Devalosfang fell silent for a moment. "Your sister... was she 'The Girl on the Pike'?" he mused. 'The Girl on the Pike' was what Godma soldiers called her - a girl who, on the day Monowe fell, was impaled naked upon a pike and paraded through the streets by their troops.

"'The Girl on the Pike?' Is that what you called her?" Tyler's spittle flew with his rage. "Was it 'cause she tried to grab your spears to defend herself? Or 'cause you stuck her on one? I saw that beast hoist her up with one hand, dangle her over the pike, then ram that steel right through her!" Tears frosted the tip of his nose. "You know what they said, the bastards? One asks, 'Why'd you kill her so fast? She's a bloody noble - we could've had a few goes first.' The other laughs, 'She didn't want my cock, tried to grab our spears instead. So I gave the stuck-up bitch what she wanted - a real spear up her cunt!'" Tears struck earth. "There's your knightly honor! Your precious principles!"

Devalosfang listened in silence, then whispered, "I am truly sorry about your sister. But I must be clear - those weren't my men. They were all with me in the palace then." He rose, pointing his steel sword beneath a tree. "Look there. You'll see who's responsible."

Tyler's words died in his throat. Five naked corpses lay jumbled beneath the tree, all young women in their prime. Three with slit throats, one with entrails dragged across the ground, the last separated from her head. A massive wolfhound strained at its leash on the opposite tree, just close enough to savor the scent of death.

"The work of the three Friez shits. Luda Friez, the oldest, was the softest - just slit their throats while he fucked 'em. Wenloff Friez, the second, liked to chop off their heads and see if he could ram his cock through the neck hole. If it didn't fit, he'd kill the whore in a rage. Then there was Margo Friez - 'Mad Margo' - the worst of the lot. He'd rip their guts out while he was at it. If they lived, he'd strangle them with their own entrails. As for the dog? It doesn't get to eat 'til it's good and hungry."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Tyler fought down bile rising in his throat. "And the Duke had a fourth son, of course. But that's another tale."

"Let me tell you what comes next. You have two choices. First: take up arms against House Friez. Those who killed your sister are dead, true. Though Friez men stand seven feet tall like bulls, you're skilled enough - with surprise, you might kill two before falling. Carl loses his dearest friend. Second: bottle that rage. Save it for battle. In war's chaos, who notices a blade in the back?" Devalosfang's lips curled.

"You mean... kill fellow soldiers on the battlefield?!" Tyler gaped in horror.

"Oh? You still call those monsters comrades?" The captain sneered. "I've done it myself. Days after taking Monowe, I caught a Friez man about to rape a washerwoman. His throat opened before his breeches fell. No witnesses - save her."

"Killing allies... is the gravest sin. In any age, those who murder their own are cursed." Tyler weighted each word.

"I never pretended to be a hero. We're all damned." He leveled his blade at Tyler. "Walk onto a battlefield, you walk into a corner of hell. Every life we steal, their blood and tears seep into our steel. Their souls latch onto our blades, weighing us down with each swing. Before you strike, ask yourself: 'Can I carry the weight of another soul?' Take a life, bear its burden. Once steel drinks blood, we're all caught in this curse of blood and tears."

"I... I never..." Tyler drew his sword, dried blood staining the steel. "I never thought of it that way."

"Most don't. That's why they revel in killing. By the time they understand, it's far too late." Dawn's first light crept over the horizon. "When I saw 'Tyler Wynlers' on the expedition roster, I knew you - the young duke from before. You and Carl weren't meant to be chosen. Two useless Offick boys were slated instead - good only for eating and farting. But I chose you both. You know why." His hand fell heavy on Tyler's shoulder. "Watch over Carl. He lacks your cunning. Both of you - survive. Return to wives and children with gold, land, and glory."

Devalosfang turned away, leaving Tyler rooted in place.

"About that 'one exception' you asked after?" He spoke without turning. "My wife. Josephine Dear." His steps halted. "I killed her myself."

The sun blazed proud in crimson robes.