"That would be even worse," Teresa said firmly. "Half-elves may serve as camp whores, but to be someone's mistress - that crosses a line. Though I appreciate your concern, my lord, such an arrangement would only stain your reputation."

"Who said anything about mistresses?" Carl mumbled in his sleep, making Teresa start. "Keep being camp whores, just serve us exclusively..." His words dissolved into snores.

"That's still a no-go, Lord Carl," Treni insisted. "It'd ruin us in the trade. This life's a snake pit, and gossip spreads like wildfire. If word gets out we're sweet on high-ranking officers, we're dead meat. No one would touch us with a ten-foot pole. And how do we explain that to the madam?"

The captain stood with folded arms, weighing matters. "There's something you should know," he said gravely. "Lord Milankai harbors a deep hatred for elves and half-elves. I don't know why. I cannot predict what he might do to you both. But tonight he ordered a gallows built, with two nooses already hanging." Fear flickered in her water-blue eyes.

"Give them time to consider, my lord," Tyler said. "Let them think until dawn. Whatever they choose then, we'll honor it."

Treni pondered this solemnly, answering with a nod.

"Very well, we'll give the ladies some space. You had something to discuss with me?" With that, he and Devalosfang departed.

After they left, Treni plopped down, chin on her knees, looking at her sister. "So, life or death, huh?"

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

They reached the river again. "I've never liked rivers," Devalosfang said, studying his reflection in the dark water. "But the view here is pleasant, and we'll have no unwanted ears."

With their long hair and similar builds, the two men might have been brothers in the darkness. Tyler's hand found his sword hilt unbidden.

"No need to draw steel again," the captain said, flexing his hands. "My blade only seeks enemies, save once. I've no wish to cross swords with you. Besides, I know your question. Yes, I defeated Sir Reid ten years past. That great axe of his - I remember it well. As I remember you, Tyler Wynlers."

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(I despise this answer. Every word of it.) Tyler remained silent.

"I saw you from the start. A fine hiding place, that cabinet, but shadows betrayed you."

"Yet you didn't kill me. Didn't even alert your men," Tyler said, ice in his voice.

"How old were you then? Fourteen? Fifteen?" Devalosfang sighed. "What honor in killing a child? The Bridge Battle was my first true fight. Before that, I was like all young men - proud, reckless, thirsting for glory. We dreamed of being heroes from the ballads, returning triumphant to waiting lovers. After Kolova, those dreaming boys died, leaving only shells. I was one, but kept one rule: spare the unarmed, the young, the women where possible. Others mock such principles, my old comrades most of all. Though I couldn't always keep it, my conscience is clearer for trying."

(What's the point of these words?) Tyler contained his rage. "Or did my value as the Wynlers heir buy my life?"

Devalosfang laughed sharply. "Tyler, perhaps you truly have a lord's mind. Pity my foolish men never thought so. They wanted only blood and tears. As we marched on Fulloren, they grew restless at my 'weakness.' Worse, we fought alongside House Friez against Monowe, and their savagery infected my troops."

The captain drew suddenly, Tyler matching him. But Devalosfang merely knelt by the water, cleaning his blade. "They planned to slaughter your family, then burn the palace. Thus the killing began, with House Friez - the 'Savage Slaughterers' - leading the charge. I'd ordered my men to spare the unarmed, but their discontent grew. I barely convinced them to let me duel Sir Reid. Had they found you then, I couldn't have held them back. Blood would have flowed freely."

"You think that stopped the blood from flowing?" Tyler sheathed his sword. (That blood's still trapped in those stones, burned in by the flames.)

"At least Sir Reid's guards lived. As did you." He polished his blue-gleaming steel. "Truth be told, I meant to find you, negotiate privately, secure your fealty. That might have spared lives. But you fled at Sir Reid's fall. Friez's men were in the garden then. Had they caught you..."

"Yet I surrendered anyway." When Tyler escaped the palace, enemy forces had ringed the garden. Men fought through flower beds, none noticing their new-made duke. Then he saw three Godma soldiers try to force his sister in a gazebo. When she fought back, they butchered her. Terror-stricken Tyler, courage fled, wandered the maze-like gardens until colliding with a retreating Godma soldier who took him captive.

"Fortune favored you - he was one of mine. Otherwise..." Devalosfang cut the air with his blade.

"Speared through, wasn't it?" Tyler's tone froze the captain mid-swing. "You said your sword seeks only enemies, save once. Your rule to spare the innocent, though imperfect." His body coiled tight, grip threatening to snap his sword hilt. "Your 'one exception' - or should I say 'countless exceptions' - was your men murdering my sister. Isn't that right?"