One of the things that was quickly clear to me was that the real power behind an army was its cooks. Soldiers might love or fear their cooks, but they dared not make them angry, or they would be marching all day on an empty stomach.

Perhaps more shocking, I was an exception to that rule; as logistics officer, I was responsible for the food supplies, and as such, they didn't ever want to cross me. I suppose if I was mad at the cooks I could have given them fewer supplies, and they would have to deal with hordes of hungry soldiers without enough food to give them all. I wouldn't do that, but they also couldn't withhold food from me; I could just grab it off the wagons, and update my records accordingly. If anyone else tried that, I would hunt down whoever did it and haul them off for military justice.

Would, had to, and did, as it turned out.

These weren't elite troops, they were conscripts, and well, their discipline was lacking. Stealing food was not the only thing being punished, but it was my job to make sure that when someone did steal food, they got punished. So I tended to stay near or even ride on the wagons and keep an eye on things, and I did a quick count of things several times per day--this was made much easier by my ability to recall memories with perfect clarity, as I could just compare the last time I saw a wagon to how it was now, side by side, and check for anything out of place or missing.

More than a few soldiers snuck off with bits of dried meat while on guard duty, and I quickly gained a reputation for having a sixth sense about when things had been disturbed. I put, shall I say, the fear of god in crooked guards, but the honest ones and the commanders loved me. Nobody wanted to sit by and watch the crooked prosper while honest guards went hungry.

In short, by the time three days had passed and we arrived at the meeting point, I was already a myth among the Company--the demons' quartermaster, they called me, able to see while my back was turned and hunt you down by scent if you stole a single crumb of bread. And truthfully, I was cheating, but they didn't need to know that. On the third day I started to think that Bard assigned crooked people to guard the supply wagons expecting that I would find and punish them.

Either way, I think he was happy to be able to make an example of people. It honestly seemed like the Company evened out a little bit when enough bad apples got punished. I suppose it might have just been exhaustion, though; they weren't as scared, they were settling in to the rhythm and the routine. But either way, they seemed to be doing better.

If anything, actually getting to the meeting point was bad for morale. The meeting point was a plain at the base of the mountains; from certain approaches, we would have seen the camp for many miles, but we had to take a low winding path through the high rolling hills of southern Belma. I felt for the scouts, as they had to hoof it up and down the hills ahead of and behind the Company, in order to keep a good eye out on the surrounding valleys, but they seemed to have enough stamina to last.

Once we did get to the camp, we discovered at least eight companies, almost entirely Halfbreed warriors, and the atmosphere suggested nobody there respected us. The guards obviously let us through, but idle warriors lined up to jeer at us as we made our way across the camp. Apparently Bard had been told to put us near the front, because we were definitely stuck on the east side, which (according to my poor knowledge of the country) was definitely towards the enemy.

Probably not a statement of faith in us.

Once we got where we were going, Bard ran off to meet with the generals in charge and I supervised the setup of the camp. That went smoothly enough on my end, but I could tell at a glance that at least half of the guards the Company set up were to keep other soldiers from getting into our camp and causing trouble.

There was only so much they could do.

It wasn't long before a giant panther-man that seemed eight feet tall and built of muscle pushed his way through the guards and made a bee-line for our supply carts. He had two flunkies that were only slightly less tall and bulky, who reeked of yes-men. Of course I saw them coming, and as quartermaster, I ended up standing right between the three of them and our food.

Believe me, if I wasn't a god, I could not have resisted whatever battle-aura they were putting out. It was definitely magic, and I allowed myself a quick glance that told me it was silver essence pouring out of their souls--not that they necessarily knew what they were doing, since it really just felt like they were trying to intimidate us with their presence. And well, it worked, but I wasn't going to just roll over and be bullied.

So when the eight foot man came up to me (and I'm, what should I say, five-five? Something? Not tall), I just crossed my arms and stood there. Somehow, I felt like my supply of Sky Essence helped, but I couldn't describe it; I could feel my Wind Spark churning, like it wanted to strike out, but I held, and looked him in the eye defiantly.

"Give me your food," he said with a toothy snarl.

I bit back my first retort and took a moment to think of a better one. "What's the matter? You three toothless cats don't know how to hunt?"

He swung at my chest with a full hand of extended claws, but my eyes were excellent--I read him like a book and stepped left and out of the way. My wind spark churned, like it was full to bursting, but I held my ground and just watched him. "No discipline at all. Just a big dumb animal."

His next attack was both hands, but he was so mad (and not a little bit confused) that he was even slower this time, so I just moved backwards step after step to stay out of his range, while he thrashed wildly at me. By now some of our men were starting to yell, half encouragement to me and half vitriol at the panther, but I don't think he heard it. He honestly just didn't seem to understand that he wasn't missing--that I was dodging.

When I just couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed at the Wind Spark and threw Sky Essence behind me. It was kind of an instinctive thing; I understood that this was how it was supposed to work, but it never had done much before.

This time, though, it threw me into the air, and I was above and behind him before I knew it.

The downside was, that was literally all the Essence I had. It wasn't that I took the time to measure it or anything; I felt exhausted and dizzy the moment I used the ability, and basically the only thing that let me land on my feet was adrenaline. So I spun around quickly, trying to figure a way out of the mess. I didn't have anything prepared, though, when the panther made the mistake of drawing the sword at his hip.

Now, I had heard Bard telling people not to draw blades in camp. He was quite insistent on it, said the Goddess of Blades watched every war camp to make sure nobody drew sword on an ally. I didn't think much of it because I wasn't going to draw my sword for pretty much anything--certainly not until other people, who actually practiced with their swords, had drawn first.

That day was the second time I felt a Goddess turn her personal attention on me, and it felt a lot worse than the incident at the docks.

I don't know how, exactly, but the panther's sword twisted in his hand the moment it cleared his sheath, and flew straight up into the sky, ringing like it was a bell--a giant one, the kind you used to notify an entire goddamn city of an emergency. The sound of that bell--along with a flare of soulflame that nobody else could perceive--knocked every living person in two hundred feet, human and halfbreed alike, flat on their front or back and held them there.

Then the sword fell from the sky, and unless my Eyes deceived me, landed inches from the panther's neck. I should not have been able to see it at all, of course, but I had been cheating the entire fight, and wasn't intending to stop until I won.

I have no idea how much of what followed other people could perceive, but me, I immediately felt the eyes of a goddess fall on me, and I knew that (as one of the elder gods had said) she was here, in this camp. I felt her wordlessly understand what had happened and felt the approach of not just her, but several high ranking officers, all of whom were summoned by the jackass half-panther who had dared to draw his blade in the Goddess' war camp. Even though those officers were not gods themselves, I felt them, every last one. I felt their footsteps in the ground, as though they were titans among men, and every step could have shattered the earth.

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Before long, they were gathered around me. The only one I recognized was Bard, but there were eight people with the same rank markings, another half-dozen that were lower, and three people that were higher ranks--including the Goddess of Blades. I knew her at a glance, and she knew me, but none of that was important at just this moment.

"Mercy!" squealed the panther man. "It's not my fault! I swear to the Lady, I intended no wrongdoing!"

The Goddess, in her mortal form, glanced from that man to his sword. With the man's words, it had rung again, a low toll that sounded for all the world like the sound of condemnation.

"To Lie in the name of the Lady of Blades is death," said one of the other Commanders, and he reached out to take the blade. "You won't get a second chance."

"I--It was him! I swear it!"

The commander didn't even need the blade to hum in disapproval once more before he cut the panther's neck. Oddly... or perhaps not, I felt, viscerally, a sensation like my own neck being cut by that sword stroke, but harmlessly--and then the pressure released, so that I could have stood, if I had the guts to do so. A reminder of our mortality, I realized. This discipline is not a joke.

"Up." Bard was looking straight at me and speaking directly to me. Even still, it took me a moment to process it as an order, and scrambled to my feet. "What happened here?"

"That man--" I paused, not sure if there was a better noun than 'man' to use for halfbreeds, but continued quickly, "and his two buddies, they demanded our food. I refused to budge, and I mocked him ...probably should have just said no, but I knew he wouldn't listen. He didn't take it well, tried to tear me open with his claws, but I dodged him. After a bit of that, he drew his weapon, sir, and that was the end of it."

"What did you say to him?" the Goddess-General's voice was hard.

"Begging your pardon, General," I knew I could get in trouble in so many ways here, "I asked if the reason why he wanted food was he was a bad hunter, and I said he had no discipline." Probably better not to mention the overtly racist parts of it. That hadn't been wise. Two of the Commanders chuckled anyway, though, so it was probably a decent insult.

"Did you intend to harm him?" The Goddess-General pushed an instinct at me, that said I should meet her eyes.

I did. I had some guilt, but I wasn't going to lie. "I never swung at him, General. Not once. Didn't ask anyone else to, either. I didn't know ...that he would be executed if he lied. I wasn't thinking about hurting him, just protecting our supplies from someone that was going to take them by force."

She considered me for a long moment, then glanced at Bard. "He has balls. He'll make a decent soldier."

Bard grinned back at her. "Not even a soldier, ma'am. He's our quartermaster."

That got her attention, and she glanced at me with raised eyebrows, but only for a moment. "Fine. Too shrimpy for the battlefield anyway. Back to work!" As she turned, she did the voice-amplification trick that Mel was so good at. "No drawing blades in camp! Never draw your blade on anyone but an enemy! And never lie in the name of the Goddess! No more warnings!"

I was never so happy to see Bard walk away. I could have sworn that if I never saw that many high-ranking officers again, it would be too soon.

Naturally, the Goddess invited (that is to say, ordered) me to see her after dark the same day. It was quiet-like, just a hand-delivered envelope with a message... and a gold coin, which the message said was compensation for being attacked. Considering my wage in town had been half-silvers, that was a fair bit of change, but I put it in a hidden pocket and tried not to think about what was coming.

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I arrived when the message said to, able to pick my way through the camp without asking directions purely based on knowing where She was. The commanding officers were standing and talking quietly around a firepit, but they already looked like they were ready to disperse. Bard gave me a look, but didn't challenge my reasons for being there.

Of course, the guards did, since that was their job. But the letter was written in the general's own hand, and so they stepped inside to confer with her for a moment before letting me in. In the end, it was all a very subdued affair, which is what either of us would have wanted when it came to keeping secrets about godhood.

Except that inside the general's tent were four bare-chested, very attractive halfbreed men. They were attending to the general in a fashion that immediately brought to mind the term harem. That... should not have surprised me all that much, and it should probably not have entertained me quite so much, but it did.

The general herself was old. I don't think she was part of the council of elder gods, so she probably wasn't ancient as far as goddesses go, but her mortal body looked to be pushing eighty, and after the way she'd treated things before, I had to assume that she was a fairly old goddess. Older, I imagined, than Alanna, who was centuries if not millenia old, but I had never asked, and I didn't plan on asking this woman. She was also halfbreed; I hadn't cared earlier, but given the chance to stop and look, it was clear she was a half-monkey of some kind. Or maybe some kind of cat with round monkey-ish ears? I'm no good at recognizing animals, I realized. Never expected it to be a necessary skill. And... I still didn't care, honestly. Most likely, she could make her mortal body half-whatever-the-hell-she-wanted, or human, on a whim.

Never judge people who have power based on appearances. I had to wrestle with some of my day-to-day instincts, that wanted to be judge-y and rude, but I was going to have to figure out her personality based on her words and actions, not her ...race? species? Certainly not age or gender. None of those things mattered in the end.

"You asked for me, ...general." Ma'am? Sir? What was the correct honorific? I was confused.

The woman's monkey face regarded me for a long time. Like, probably a good two-three minutes of uninterrupted staring. As God of Eyes I could just kind of tell that she was looking far, far deeper than at my skin, measuring the stress lines on my face and the depth of my eyes, measuring the twitches of my nervous face and hands, drinking in everything she needed to know to understand my character. And under the circumstances, what could I do but sit there and accept it?

"You don't belong here," she said quietly, and I felt that the words were one god to another, and not general to soldier.

"Perhaps not, ma'am," I replied. "But... I would like to repay my debt, and defend ...my home, I guess."

You think you have a home? I felt the Goddess judge me for that thought. "You're too gentle. You can't do much here."

"I..." I paused. How do I discuss godly matters? I gave her a look, and she read through it in a moment, and a strange wind like I've never felt covered the tent. Blocking, I realized, any sound from escaping.

Of course, there was still the matter of her harem, and I gave them a puzzled look.

She understood, of course, and she gave me a toothy smile, one that I felt was still measured, guarded. "It's not a complete secret, you know. The people here know that I am," and she paused and gave the words peculiar emphasis, "a vicar of the Goddess of Blades. I smell the same on you. Am I wrong?"

I didn't know what the term meant. I thought 'vicar' in some parts meant a priest, but the distinction was lost on me. So I gathered my thoughts and gave my version of it. "Ma'am... general. Before I arrived in Olesport, I was lost in the wilderness, and I... was found by a God." I changed the tone of my words, hoping to make clear the next part was a cover-story. I figured that was what her emphasis had meant. "He called himself the God of Eyes, and he gave me some kind of blessing... but I must admit I don't understand what has happened to me since. I am new to this, and although the church of Alanna was kind enough to give me some guidance... that God and she had an argument, I was told, and I could not stay."

"Alanna? Feh." The general-goddess lifted a small glass of something that could have been wine or brandy--something fruity and alcoholic, from the smell. "Fine enough for peaceful folk, but she is no help out here." She paused. "God of Eyes. I have heard of that one. Xethram. A quiet god, I thought. What power does he give you?"

"The power to See, ma'am." I paused, knowing that wasn't an answer. Mostly, I was just excited that she knew my name, although that was probably the doing of the Elder Gods. Would I hear it if someone else changed their name? That seemed fun. "Sometimes things are drawn to my attention simply because I should see them. Sometimes I see things that I should not be able to. It's helped me keep thieves away from the food, and to punish those who snuck in when I wasn't looking. It helped me dodge... that man, when he attacked me. Many things."

"Perhaps useful, for scouts and guards." She leveled a look at me that seemed ...accusatory? "If people were to pray to that god, do you think he would respond?"

"I thought he was very eager to help," I had to pause and not call her Lady, because I was still thinking of her as a goddess and not a general, "madam General, but--"

"Enough with the titles. Just General, or General Murn." She snarled at me, but I was just happy to know her name.

"General Murn. I don't claim to understand gods or how this God of Eyes works. He has been helpful to me, and I think he has helped others around me, but it is hard for me to know." I gave her a look I hoped screamed out 'I have no idea what I'm doing' but she didn't seem impressed, one way or another.

"Hm. Well, your group will be part of the vanguard--you aren't much use at half strength in the real force, not that we were counting on you humans to begin with. Talk to your scouts and see if he can do anything for them." She paused and swirled her drink for a moment. "That's not an order. I don't order any of the troops to worship the Goddess of Blades, either. But it is wise to make use of every tool we have in war. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, General Murn." I stood at attention awkwardly.

"That will be all." Before I turned, I caught a thought projected at me. If you die on my battlefield I will bring you back just to kill you again. Painfully, and more than once. You, and whoever ends up with your Key.

I swallowed, but bowed. "Thank you, General." Message received.

She snorted as I left the tent.