“Uh, ‘scuze me? I got a question.”

“Yes, Nekko?”

The goblin winced, averting his eyes for a moment, and Velaven took note of the need to train him on poise. A shadow scout’s arts were not and could not be restricted to the field; the kind of self-control that enabled one to manage the perceptions of others also manifested in overall emotional control. Still, it was his first day.

“I, uh… Actually, boss lady, while I am uncertain about what we’re doin’ here, it was a question at least partly for these two. Cos, like, I straight up do not understand why learnin’ spy craft involves sitting in a room meditating. But you ladies seem like you caught on to the point of it fast, so…what do you know that I don’t?”

Jessak and Drun Kadora glanced at each other, furry eyebrows rising. Velaven was pleased that they continued to get along. The tension of their clans’ long-standing rivalry was there, but both beastwomen were making an active effort to avoid provoking one another. It showed good social instincts and a capacity for guile, qualities a shadow scout very much needed.

“I guess it’s not fair to criticize any goblin for knowing very little about hunting,” Jessak allowed after that uncertain pause, “not when all three tribes drive them out of our hunting grounds. But yes, we are accustomed to cultivating stillness as a practice. You need that ability to stalk prey. It makes sense to me that it only becomes more important when the prey is sapient.”

“The way she goes about it seems to me more like a spiritual practice than hunting, but it’s like Jessak said,” Drun Kadora added. “Besides, Velaven clearly knows what she’s about, so I’m willing to be patient with the parts I don’t understand.”

“Very good,” Velaven said, nodding. In truth, the wolf woman’s comment contributed little and had clearly been made to prevent the cat woman from gaining a social leg up on her by being the only one to answer, but it was early yet in their training to address such nuances. Too much information dumped on a novice only hindered them in absorbing it. “Their answer is correct, Nekko, but it is also the case that this squad is in the very earliest stages of being built, and while I don’t intend to dawdle with your training, in the interest of keeping everyone at a similar pace we will focus extensively on the very basics until our roster is closer to complete.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense, all of it. Thanks!” The goblin nodded, grinning.

She did not wince. This…was something she would have to get used to. Obviously some manner of protocol was necessary, and it was difficult to nail down exactly what the Dark Crusade’s formal procedures were—mostly because they were still developing. What was certain was that Lord Seiji would not take kindly to her instilling Shylver military demeanor in her troops. So this would be a…absurd as it sounded…casual unit, at least in terms of interpersonal conduct.

If only that madness were the least of her concerns.

“Then we shall resume tomorrow as scheduled,” Velaven declared. “Dismissed.”

----------------------------------------

This wasn’t working.

“What, me?” Nierit raised her eyebrows in apparent surprise, turning to face Velaven fully. That at least was a positive sign, the young woman having tried to brush her off upon first being approached. “Little old Ni Ni from the Cat, part of your fancy super squad? Wow, you must be running low on prospects.”

“Not even slightly,” Velaven said smoothly. “There is an extraordinary amount of untapped talent in this organization; if anything, it is frustrating that I can only reach out to one at a time. Your speed and light step have been noted by both Goose and Aster, and are exactly what I need. I can teach you to turn those natural aptitudes into a truly devastating package of skills.”

“Wow, that sounds like a great deal,” the young woman said with a bright smile, and after her previous attempts Velaven already knew what was coming next. “At least, until the next time you need to get somebody murdered once you start playing politics again, huh?”

“I realize you know little about me,” she answered in carefully maintained calm, “so I can only offer my own assurances that I have never left anyone under my command to die.”

“Right, it’s just everybody else who can go fuck themselves. Guess you don’t know a whole lot about me, either.” The veneer of cordiality vanished, revealing the cold glare beneath. “I was pretty close to Marnit. Since before all this, even; we watched each other’s backs in Cat Alley. Guess where she died, Velaven. Guess where, when, and why.”

Velaven drew in a deep breath. “I am—”

“Do you honestly think anything you could finish that sentence with won’t result in me punching you?”

No, not really. To her ongoing frustrating, she still had trouble reacting to overt threats delivered right to her face. In Shylverrael, imprecations were more oblique, and if you were going to attack someone you didn’t warn them. This just wasn’t done.

“Actually, never mind,” Nierit continued immediately, sparing her having to resolve this quandry. “Word from the top is we’re not allowed to actually beat on you. Eh, it’s probably for the best. Bet you’d kick my ass, anyway.”

A person could only be so poised, for so long. Velaven could feel herself cracking. This time, it began to peek through to the surface. She looked the young human up and down, nodded, and spoke the plain truth for once.

“Yes. I would.”

Nierit smiled again—and while the expression was far from friendly, it looked strangely genuine. There was, after all, an odd sort of comfort in hatred, and rage could be its own kind of bliss.

“Good luck with your little project, your highness. You’re going to fail, and Lord Seiji will toss you out of here on your ass. That’ll be a good day.”

She turned on her heel and strode away down the corridor with a dramatic swish of her black cloak. A lot of these people were starting to display rather melodramatic affectations; Velaven wondered how much Lord Seiji understood about the implications of the example he was setting. Mostly, she just reflected that it was a good thing she’d approached this one in a relatively quiet hallway, rather than the mess hall. That had been one of her first lessons. Every embarrassing public rejection only made the next approach less likely to succeed.

It hadn’t been long at all, but she could see the pattern. Goblins and the wolf tribe were fine, relatively speaking; it had been like this with the cats at first, for much the same reason, but once Jessak had signed on her example had calmed some of the feline glares she received. Once she got a few humans to join—even one, to start—she knew it would increase her chances with the others.

Unfortunately… There was something going on here she didn’t grasp. The hostility toward her, while understandable, shouldn’t be this deep, or this universal. Some nuance of Fflyr culture, or some detail of this organization’s brief history that she didn’t know? Whatever it was, they had formed a wall against her. This wasn’t working.

Velaven proceeded up the hall in the opposite direction, toward her intended next prospect. Up ahead, two more women in cloaks rounded a corner, laughing about something. On seeing her, the jovial noise cut off instantly. Both stopped, turned around, and went back the way they had come.

She just kept on her way, showing no outward reaction. It didn’t matter that no one was here to see. Her self-control was just about all she still had to cling to, and even that was becoming frayed.

How did Lord Seiji do it? Well, he was the Dark Lord, after all; that had to count for a lot. But it was so clear the man had barely any idea what he was doing; he was making this up as he went and blundering into all the errors one would expect from such an approach and more besides. All told he’d probably gotten more of his own people killed than she had. And not only was he firmly in control, he was in fact incredibly popular here.

From a side door she emerged into the courtyard, in a discreet corner next to the goblin engineering works. Even with the truck absent, this was lively with the sounds of hammering—at the moment because the goblin engineers were installing actual walls on their workspace against the descending cold.

Farther out from the wall, a team was drilling in spear forms under Goose’s supervision, as usual—with the new addition of Nazralind, to the clear amusement of many onlookers. That was what brought this particular crowd of her highborn friends to watch the practice, just as Velaven had planned on.

She approached them slowly and at an angle, taking in the scene and selecting a target. Frankly it didn’t matter which; they were all basically competent, had some experience in outdoor craft, and above all were slightly aloof from the rest of the human population. Velaven picked her next recruit purely on the basis that she was standing somewhat apart from the others, and was thus more convenient to approach.

“Good afternoon, Iloryn,” she said smoothly, coming to a stop beside her.

Iloryn actually jumped, turning to blink at her. “Oh! Goodness, that was… Wait, did you just stealth at me?”

“Not magically,” Velaven said with a reassuring smile. “Stepping silently is merely a matter of knowing how. I would be glad to teach you.”

“Ah. Yes, I’ve heard you are forming a stealth unit. That sounds like an exciting opportunity, but I’m afraid I am fully committed at the moment. Nazralind would be quite cross if I were to abandon her at this stage.”

“Don’t worry, I would never dream of poaching talent without showing the proper respects first. Nazralind gave me express permission to approach any of you.”

Two of the other highborn standing nearby gave her sidelong glances at that.

Iloryn’s own polite smile faded slightly as she turned her eyes toward Nazralind’s efforts to learn the spear. “Did she.”

The barely-suppressed annoyance wasn’t even directed at Velaven, but it told her that she was wasting her time here. She indulged in a shallow but steadying breath.

“Well, the offer stands.”

“May I offer a word of advice?” Iloryn actually leaned toward her, lowering her voice. “I apologize for the presumption, but it might spare you some wasted effort.”

“I fear if I ceased wasting effort I would find myself with nothing to do.” The young woman actually gave her a look of sympathy, and somehow that was even worse than all the insults. “But of course, I am always glad to learn.”

“We—that is, the girls and I who came here with Naz and Elemyn—are in a slightly precarious position with regard to the rest of the Crusade. We get along fairly well with all the lowborn, but that has never ceased to require effort. The entire organization is motivated chiefly to topple the existing power structure in this country, a structure we visibly represent no matter how humble and approachable we make ourselves.”

She hesitated, and Velaven kept quiet for her to finish, although she had already recognized what was coming next.

“None of us can afford to join your group, I’m afraid. Most of the people here would not have much in the way of public problems as a result of associating with you, but we—and, I imagine, the cat tribe—risk a great deal. I’m truly sorry to have to say it.”

“Not at all. Your candor is appreciated, and the courtesy especially so.”

Iloryn gave her another smile. Small, polite, meaningless. “I do wish you good fortune. With Lord Seiji’s backing, I’m sure you will succeed.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Pointless social noise. The rising frustration was becoming a physical sensation in her throat. “Thank you for the well wishes. Good afternoon, then.”

She lingered barely long enough for Iloryn to nod politely in farewell before returning to the fortress.

Velaven missed working with the goblins. Even having to teach untrained laypeople how to run a counter-insurgency on the fly, while keeping her existence hidden, had been easier than this. Maybe she ought to just build a stealth unit of goblins and beastfolk, if the humans were all going to turn up their nose at her. Yes, that would certainly please the goblins and cats and wolves, having a decisive upper hand over their historical oppressors. And it would serve the snub-eared dirt apes right, not just for the oppression in question but for treating her—

That was blithering nonsense and she forcibly turned her mind away from it. She could not allow frustration to start making her decisions. Besides, Velaven understood very well why Lord Seiji had assigned her this task in this manner, and it wasn’t even mostly to gain a unit of shadow scouts. It was impossible not to understand him, Goddess knew, the man had all the subtlety of a truck to the face. She was meant to prove she could mend bridges and build connections with his people.

How?!

“Oi! There you are. C’mere, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Well, that was a change. Velaven came to a stop, turning to blink at the goblin who had just scampered up behind her.

“Oh… Hello, Zui, welcome back. I didn’t realize you’d returned.”

“A while ago, in fact. Lord Seiji has gone off and done some vintage Lord Seiji nonsense that’s put all other plans on hold for the time being, so I’m taking the opportunity to take care of some work that’s been piling up. Starting with you!”

“Wait—what has he—”

“He’s fine, don’t worry. The man is always a walking disaster and currently…well, not in any more danger than usual. Look, just come with me, okay? I’m all set up for you.”

“For…me?”

Velaven suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

----------------------------------------

Zui had claimed an unused storage chamber and set up all the necessities to practice her craft. Her pre-Seiji, pre-Sneppit profession, specifically. Velaven found herself in a chair in front of a mirror with a blanket around her throat covering her from the neck down before she fully understood what was happening.

“Wait a moment—”

“Don’t you worry, hon, you are in the most expert hands possible. Zui’s gonna make it all right again.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I really don’t require—”

“I’m gonna level with you, Vel,” Zui said in a lecturing tone from her perch atop a stepstool behind her. “As many people as need my help in this damn place, it’s the sight of you that has been driving me to distraction. You cannot dangle a disaster like this in front of me any longer or I’m gonna go fuckin’ nuts. Look at this! I can tell when something’s been hacked at with a dull knife.”

The knife hadn’t been dull, just wielded by—

Velaven started to stand and found a pair of green hands on her shoulders pushing her back down. There it was; goblins really were uncannily strong for her size.

“Then why is Nazralind not getting this treatment?” she demanded, increasingly nettled. “You cannot have failed to notice the girl saunters about looking as if she just cleaned a drain with her head.”

“Hah! Nice, that’s a good one. I’m gonna have to remember that. So, I don’t suppose you know much about highborn hair culture?”

“Why would I ever—” Velaven caught herself and switched to a more diplomatic tone. “That particular bit of cultural nuance has not been part of my education, no.”

“No shame in that, I’m probably the only local goblin who does, now that Maugro and his team are gone. Unless you’re Fflyr or have a particular interest, it’s not exactly relevant to your life. See, light elves and highborn each have a hairstyle. One hairstyle. They settle on a way to do their hair, and then that is the way they do it, forever. It’s a whole event on the fifteenth birthday when they have a stylist come and set it up for ‘em. Way I understand it, the goal is to be able to identify the individual by the silhouette of their head from any angle.”

Velaven narrowed her eyes. “Is that why they all have it so…spiky? I thought that was just the texture.”

“Oh, the texture helps, definitely.” Zui’s face in the mirror was downright mirthful. “Nice and stiff, must make that a lot easier to maintain. But the point is, adult highborn only ever change their hair in response to a life event of great importance. I’m talkin’ entering some cloistered sect of their clergy, or the death of a child, things of that magnitude. Have you noticed how the other girls with Naz all have theirs done pretty simply? Lots of ponytails and pixie cuts, totally unlike how highborn usually have it. That’s why. Them bein’ out here with us is a huge life transition, and that’s how they symbolize it.”

“I…see. But Nazralind…”

“Nazralind did not change her hairstyle.” Zui had become more solemn in both tone and expression, even as she now began experimentally smoothing and fluffing Velaven’s hair with her deft fingers. “She completely ceased to have one. It’s a choice of immense personal magnitude to her, symbolic of her rejection of her entire culture and everything it entails. So yes, while the sight of that magnificent golden mane slowly tangling itself into feathers and dreadlocks causes me physical fucking pain, I leave her alone about it. Because I know what a big deal it is, and why.”

Zui stopped her gentle exploration of Velaven’s ragged hair and rested her hands on her shoulders again, gazing at her in the mirror. Velaven noted, for the first time, that their eyes were very nearly the same shade of reddish violet. At least for right now, in this lighting; her own tended to scintillate and even shift color when she’d been using her stealth a lot.

“What I don’t know,” Zui said in a gentler tone, “is why you are keeping yours like this. Doll, I say this with love: you look fucking awful. And that seems really out of character for somebody who puts as much importance on personal presentation as you clearly do. So…why?”

Slowly, she drew in a breath. Held it. Let it out, just as slowly. The goblin just gazed at her, patient and without judgment. Opening up about this…about anything…was not any part of Velaven’s plans. She could just leave. Zui might be strong for someone half her size, but she was not stronger than Velaven and definitely not more skilled at grappling; her height utterly deprived her of leverage. Yes, she could walk out of here no matter how insistent the goblin decided to be. That was what she should do.

“It grows…very slowly,” Velaven said quietly. “We don’t cut it. The cultural practice is to keep it long… Usually braided and in up a style that keeps it out of the way, but loose for certain…ceremonial events. It won’t stop growing until it reaches ankle length or so, but that…you’ll never see that on an elf less than fifty years old. It’s a point of great pride. Mine is… Mine was just barely to my waist, at my age. No blade had ever touched it until—”

She stopped talking. There was no point in talking about this. There was no point in any of this.

“She did this to you,” Zui said quietly. “What’s-her-fuckin’-face, the usurper.”

“Lyvien.” She did not trouble to disguise the venom in her voice. “This is a ceremonial humiliation, not inflicted lightly. Not even on criminals. Certainly not on political opponents, which is the worst I ever was to her. There is nothing inside that woman except envy and lust for power, that she would be so cruel to… The thought of what she must be doing to my people plagues my nightmares. Don’t cut any more, Zui, please. I’ll probably never have it long enough to… It will be decades before I even have it where it was.”

She should be leaving. Should have left already. Why wasn’t she getting up?

Zui sighed, still holding Velaven’s gaze via the mirror. The simple compassion on her face was much worse than everyone else’s overt hatred. Velaven had to drop her own eyes.

“Oh, sweetie. You’re too big a girl for me to need to sugarcoat this, so I’m just gonna spit it out: you look like a bleached patch of cave moss. This is not the style of a queen—or a squad leader, or anyone who deserves to be taken seriously. This is the hairstyle of a stumbling idiot who can’t be arsed to take proper care of herself. Which means it isn’t you.”

Green fingers moved again, neatly touching each section as she pointed them out.

“So, what we gotta do is avoid taking off any more serious length. The good news is I can see a shape in here—we just gotta snip it free. It’ll be like a sculptor bringin’ the art out of a chunk o’ rock. I’m envisioning a modified pixie cut. See, the back here is shorter in the middle than on the sides, so what we’re gonna do is trim and even it up, then coax the ends to curl up, around and under your ears. Yours isn’t as stiff as a goblin’s or light elf’s, but you’ve got good body and volume, so it shouldn’t take much product to make it behave. Just a little dab, nothing you can’t do yourself once I show you how. That’ll work out gorgeously—you’ve got exactly the style and bearing to make what’d be adorable on anyone else look badass. It’ll be helped by what we’re gonna do up front. You’ve still got some length over here, so what I’ll do is comb in a part here on the left side, see? Then we’re gonna turn this long forelock into asymmetrical bangs. Right down here over the right eye. Oh, yeah, that’ll be sexy. Hmm, yeah, and that’ll be long enough that with some proper combing I can arrange the rest on top to give you a bit of shape up there. Give you a nice, roguish look to go with this stealth huntress vibe you’ve got. For the rest, it’s just gonna be trimming. You’re all ragged and uneven everywhere, this was obviously done to destroy rather than create. We’ll have to cut it shorter on the sides to pull off the look, but most of the rest is just snipping these ragged ends into a smooth shape.”

“No cutting!” Velaven burst out, starting to rise from the chair. “Have you not been listening? I can’t lose any—”

Zui clamped both hands against the sides of her head, physically holding her in place, and that grip was a lot harder to push past than the one on her shoulders had been. The goblin leaned forward until Velaven could feel that prodigious bust of hers pressing against her skull. Again, their eyes locked in the mirror.

“Velaven,” Zui said in a solemnly emphatic tone, “you are not the queen anymore.”

“What on—do you think I don’t know that?!”

“Yes, that is exactly what I think.” Slowly, oddly gently but still inexorably, she pushed the elf back down into her seat. “I see the way you act, and don’t think everybody else doesn’t. You walk around here like royalty. When you talk to anyone except Seiji, it’s like a gift you’re giving them. No matter how polite you are about it, believe me, that comes across. You’re a momentarily inconvenienced queen, currently putting up with your disreputable surroundings until you can put this whole unfortunate episode behind you and go back to your own life.”

Zui released her, leaned back, and then—to Velaven’s utter incredulity—slapped the back of her head.

“Well, stop it.”

“Ow! How dare—”

“Time only flows one way, doll,” the goblin said, holding her shoulders again. Her grip was still gentle, but no less insistent. “There’s no going back. Maybe you will be a queen again someday. Hell, I’ll even say probably. But that won’t be your old life restored. It’ll be a new reign, by a new woman, one who’s been shaped by her experiences. You need to be where you actually are, and pay attention to what you’re actually supposed to be doing. Find the opportunities here, embrace them, and build something new of yourself outta what you’ve got left, and what’s available to you now that never was before. Get your shit together, woman. Clinging to the past isn’t gonna do anything but cost you opportunities. People can tell when someone’s just tolerating them for the moment, even if you can’t tell you’re doing it. It starts with recognizing what you’ve gotta cut loose. Right now? You are a ragged mess right down to your core, Vel. Because you’ve let yourself be defined by what others have done to you. What they took from you, and the shape they left you in.”

Slowly, Zui removed the hands from her shoulders, and reached down to her own tool belt. Those green hands arose again, now holding a comb and a pair of scissors.

“Remember this: the queen gets to decide what’s fashionable. They wanna hack you apart? Fuck ‘em. Someday you’ll be able to make them all cut their hair to match yours. Getting there starts with making a new shape for yourself. And that, Velaven, has to start with letting go of shit you don’t need anymore.”

Velaven sat there, utterly still. Staring. Thinking, and…

Once, jerkily, she nodded.

Then clenched her fists together under the blanket as the scissors began their quietly musical work, and locks of severed white hair began to fall.

----------------------------------------

She crossed the crowded mess hall during the dinner hour, moving in long strides that gave her no opportunity to second-guess herself. Velaven reached her targeted table and slid acrobatically into a seat between two shocked-looking women before anyone could tell her to fuck off. Leaning forward, she stared the startled Khadret in the eyes.

“I can’t just turn it off, you know.”

Khadret blinked at her twice. “Your hair looks really nice.”

“Thank you very much. I was uncertain at first, but it’s growing on me. Pardon the pun.”

“Heh. Zui’s work?”

“Indeed. I highly recommend her if you’re thinking of making a change.”

“Dunno about that. Most of the gobs we’ve brought on are nice, down-to-earth folks, except maybe that Sneppit, but it ain’t like I can just walk up to one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle and ask her to cut my damn hair.”

“I really think it would depend on how polite you are about it. Zui seems to very much enjoy working with hair. Even if she doesn’t have time I believe she would take the request as a compliment.”

“Hm…well, that’s something to think about, anyway. What is it you can’t turn off?”

“You told me once you don’t care to see me being smooth.” Velaven shrugged. “How different a woman are you from the one who grew up…wherever you did? What lessons did you learn, what demeanor have you developed, and how much of it have you had to compromise in your new life here?”

Slowly, Khadret set down her table knife and leaned backward slightly, folding her arms and staring at Velaven. The other women surrounding them watched in silence, fortunately—so far—seeming more bemused than annoyed at her presence.

“I am doing my best,” Velaven said, and it took a deliberate effort to allow the frustration she genuinely felt to seep into her voice. Years of meticulously maintained self-control did not want to release her. “This? All this, that you’ve seen me doing for the last week? This is my best effort, and I’ll leave it to you to decide exactly how sad that is, because I honestly can’t tell. I am not trying to insult anyone, or cover up the past, just to… Well, I don’t even know what amends can be made. But I am not looking down on any of you. I just… This is how I act. It has nothing to do with anyone but me.

“I am asking for your help, Khadret. Not just with joining my squad, but because I obviously have no idea how to talk with humans in a way that doesn’t…piss them off. Frankly, I don’t think you joining the squad would be an outright favor to either of us, because you stand to gain as much in training as I do from your presence. What I’m talking about is… Well, you’re here because you’re fed up with highborn and want to get a little of your own back, right? So how would you like to be in charge of telling a queen when she needs to pull the stick out of her ass?”

Khadret’s lips twisted as she fought momentarily to prevent them from quivering, then gave up and grinned.

“Okay, that was absolutely incredible. I have never heard anyone enunciate the words ‘pull the stick out of her ass’ like they were reciting court poetry. Have you just never cussed in your life before?”

“Not in this language,” Velaven said, shrugging in exasperation. “So you see what I mean, right?”

“Hm.” The human’s pale blue eyes flicked over her face, lingering on her hair, before she finally dipped her head momentarily to one side in a kind of quasi-shrug. “Well, I gotta talk to Goose about transferring, but if it’s an authorized venture with Lord Seiji’s authority, that won’t be a big deal. You mind if I speak with a few prospects to bring in? Cos, no offense, lady, but we’re never gonna get anywhere if you try to do the recruiting.”

The elated relief very nearly made her collapse on the bench. She hated that fact a little bit, and yet embraced it. Velaven had the sudden thought that she truly didn’t know where any of this was taking her, but that she was getting somewhere for the first time she could remember.

“You have my blessing. Not just humans, mind, Lord Seiji wants representatives from all parts of the Crusade.”

“Oh, the gobs are great, it’s been like a week and I already know half a dozen. I bet at least a couple would be good prospects. Dunno if I’m a better choice than you to talk to the furries, though.”

“Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

And so they would.