On our march back to Victory, I learn many things about our captives. That includes the estrazi and Khan. Couldn’t go separating such good friends so they all get to share a wagon. That includes the dead estrazi. Making the poor bastards ride home alongside their dead friends or family seems a little cruel in hindsight but no one was feeling charitable toward them when the decision was made.

No one died in their ambush. Even the poison they used wasn’t lethal. The quick onset of symptoms and the pain it caused were meant to be a distraction. I guess the estrazi thought we’d be too concerned with our injured to bother chasing after them. A plan that might have worked for any other army.

They couldn’t have known we would have Kierra, who intuited the nature of the poison in moments, and could detect the invisible estrazi. Not only was her hearing strong enough to hear their breaths and heartbeats, she tracked them through their heat, a highly effective method in such a cold environment. I know there’s a spell that can allow a caster to see heat but I had no idea there were creatures that could do so naturally. A perfect demonstration of the classic capabilities of a shapeshifter, rather than the body-crafting I’ve been using my talents for.

Though what keeps bothering me about the whole mess is that while their actions say they had no idea about our capabilities, they should have known. The estrazi have a seer. Khan had a general idea of our abilities so why not the group tasked to ambush us? And why use such weak adversaries for an attack against a northern army? Without their invisibility, the attacking estrazi are more useless than the acolytes. The whole thing makes little sense.

Our interrogations didn’t reveal much. Alana didn’t hesitate to give my succubi permission to raid their minds. However, even with Geneva digging through their memories, there wasn’t much to learn. The minds of our attackers are incredibly simple. On the level of very young children. Smart enough to learn some concepts and follow complicated orders but not much else.

They appear to be servants, which explains their lack of combat prowess. Perhaps the most valuable intelligence gleamed from them is the knowledge of their home, a vast network of tunnels and caverns, both under and above ground, carved out of stone and ice.

Our attackers are fisher…men? Women? Lizards? Their job was to dive into icy waters and bring back dinner for colony. Day in and day out, they did the same job, never tiring or questioning it. The estrazi colonies do not appear to celebrate individuality or ambition. The poor bastards would have died doing the same thing they’d been doing from the moment they matured into fully grown lizards and that was the norm.

What was completely out of the norm was being ordered to attack our army and retrieve Khan but as it was an order from their leader, who they have never seen or spoken with, leaving their identity shrouded in mystery, they didn’t question it.

Not even when they were sent out with a minimum of supplies and no weapons. The bows and arrows don’t count. They were confiscated from fallen Victory knights from previous campaigns and are considered worthless by the estrazi. Makes one question what they do consider weapons.

That was it for the information they could offer.

Khan offered a little more. While his memories are still scrambled, interacting with the estrazi has revealed subconscious memories. Ingrained habits and reflexes that only reveal themselves when the estrazi are near. Things buried too deep for Bell to have discovered in the cursory dip into his mind Alana allowed. Things that clarify his relationship with these people.

Like the fact that he can speak their language, a mix of hissing, screeching, and movement. That’s not something one can learn in a day and not something the estrazi would bother to teach a simple ally. They were quite close. Or, at the very least, they wanted Khan to think so.

More importantly, the captured estrazi defer to Khan. When food or water are offered, they don’t eat until he has taken a bite or sip. At night, they make sure he has at least three blankets, even if it means one or two go without adequate cover. They even groom him, though I didn’t understand that’s what they meant by combing through his hair with their four-fingered hands until Bell clarified their intentions.

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Khan is valued. More so than the servants. Normally, not surprising, as servants aren’t normally valued much, but that is a human standard.

From what little my succubi could gleam from them, the estrazi do not think much of humans. It isn’t the hatred I would imagine from a group that has been slaughtering the armies of the north for centuries. More of a general disdain. The closest comparison I could make is to the view most nobles have of peasants. A strong sense of superiority, whether it’s deserved or not.

Yet, despite this view, whoever sent this group after Khan told them to prioritize his life over theirs. Strange. And very telling.

Dragons, a new intelligent race, and family drama. It’s all very exciting but, at the end of the day, a little more than I bargained for. More than anyone bargained for. Not even Alana wants to be any more involved. Once the initial interrogations are complete, she does her best to pretend her brother and our reptilian captives don’t exist.

The situation persists over the two weeks it takes us to return to Victory. Alana was serious when she said we were picking up the pace. I laugh at the Squiddies’ protests when they tire after the third day of the rapid pace and are put on the shoulders of some of the knights. Probably the worst part of the campaign for some of them. Though the leader, I think his name is Will, took the arrangements in stride, pacifying the others’ irritation through example.

We encounter threats, a few days more than long enough for the copious number of monsters in the north to move into the recently cleared territory we passed through, but nothing as terrible as the goliath and the reapers. Just a few random manabeasts. Some of them choose to run off rather than fight us, mostly a fluffy fox-looking creature we find chewing on the remains we left behind.

There’s a moment of tension as we skirt the body of the goliath. We left most of the giant beast behind and something had decided to make a meal of it. Something that is still eating weeks later, defending the meat from multiple scavengers. Kierra seems unnerved as she comes back from scouting the area to report it. She says it’s a wyvern, which are close relatives to dragons. A ridiculously large one. That breathes lightning.

Not something anyone fights for fun, even my crazy elf.

Despite it all, we manage to return to Victory without any problems. Unlike the first time I rode up to the walls, there is no delay in the door being opened. The moment we pass the barrier representing the territory of humanity, we are met by cheers. Loud, joyous congratulations and battle cries. The people of Victory celebrating the return of their warriors.

I’m startled alongside the acolytes, this being my first time experiencing such raw adulation. The more experienced hunters are unbothered. The knights are unexpectedly excited by the cheers. They roar back, raising their weapons and throwing random bouts of weak magic into the air. The group walking next to the wagon with the goliath’s head, our trophy for the campaign, are particularly vocal, as they draw the most attention.

And Alana…she’s smiling. She’s startled at first, also being unused to the attention, but then her lips curl and her eyes soften. It’s another expression I’ve never seen from her and far too profound to describe with simple words. Every time I look at her, I find my voice deserting me. I can’t bring myself to intrude on what has to be an important moment.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last. As we near her family home, her smile fades. Five people are waiting by the gate of sculpted. The duke, his wives, his daughter, and the odd one out, Alana’s mother. It would be quite the picturesque scene, a powerful lord surrounded by beauties, if not for their grim expressions. Despite the cheering following in our wake, the James family is not in a celebratory mood. Likely because they are expecting Alana to share a horrific casualty count.

Except there isn’t one. Something Alana was quite happy about. I can imagine her proudly walking up to her father, presenting her trophy, and declaring she’d managed it without losing a single life. I wonder if it’d be enough to break his stern mask. It would have been a beautiful moment. One we won’t get to see now.

While there hasn’t been any loss of life, she does have bad news to share. The betrayal of her brother, the duke’s son. No matter how cold he is on the outside, I can’t imagine him not being hurt. Worse, it’s a pain he doesn’t see coming. The duke is already accustomed to the pain of losing loved ones but, from what I can gather, betrayal doesn’t happen here. They’re too busy fighting the monsters to plot against each other. On the rare occasion there is trouble, they handle it in straightforward duels. Never through deception.

The poor bastard can’t even defend himself. When his father asks Khan why he sided with the estrazi, he won’t be able to remember because he surrendered his mind to a mental caster. All he can spout is nonsense about a seer telling him to save the world. If I was the duke, it wouldn’t stop me from beating him half to death and northerners make me look nice.

I wonder if mentioning the dragon scale is overkill? It’d be horrible if our vacation ends with Alana’s father having a heart attack. Thankfully, my wife is a very capable healer.