King Lemings slouched on his throne, rereading the letter Lady Reece sent him. His hand was trembling, and he kept rubbing his thumb over the paper as if to convince himself it was real. I’m the woman who will defeat Agronus, the Demon King. Compared to him, your armies are irrelevant. That statement bothered him more than any other. King Lemings planned to be at the forefront of the battle against Agronus when the rontum walls encasing the demon king finally saturated—but Lady Reece proved how delusional he was. That night, he had seen General Tronan in his medical bed. He was physically healed but paralyzed. A good man like that—paralyzed for life. This world is cruel, “ King Lemings thought when he saw the general, must be. To have spent one’s whole life pursuing power only to be decimated so thoroughly toward the end—after fighting on equal footing.

Did she use the sword? King Lemings had asked the general.

No…. General Tronan chuckled, looking down at his hand and letting his face crash into the pillow. King Lemings imagined the general wanted to rub his forehead as customary but found his body unresponsive. It made King Lemings wish that she had killed him. She never used the sword, General Tronan said, breaking the king from his nightmarish reverie. None of them did. They were fighting with one, two-layered spells tops. If they wanted to….

If they wanted to, what? King Lemings asked patiently.

I’m not sure…. Those kids…. General Tronan took a sharp breath, were green, Helscam. Green. They didn’t have any kill in ‘em. If they did….

King Lemings didn’t like that General Tronan used his first name—that was a sign that what was said was candid. Even Lady Reece? he asked.

General Tronan looked King Lemings in the eyes and shook his head. No. She was different. Do you remember General Losom?

Yes. What of him?

She was like that. Scarred veteran—always does what needs done, but… tired. General Tronan chuckled, eyes moist and bloodshot. I remember this one time…. I was young. Green myself. I woke up in camp one day, and there were enemies surrounding us. Every side. Two hundred of them, and I remember how scared I was. And so, I ran into General Losom’s tent, heart pounding, and said: “We’re surrounded!” And this guy... heh. He says to me, “How many?” So I say… “I dunno. Two hundred? Three?” And he grabs this bottle of wine off the nightstand, doesn’t even sit up, just… grabs it, the cheapest swill we had, and shakes the bottle. There must’ve been two swallows left—if that. A mistake that there was any at all. And then he sighs and crashes back down on the bed and says, “Wake me up when there’s five.” General Tronan smiled, but it quickly faded. “I don’t dirty my hands for less than five.” That's what he said. General Tronan paused and looked King Lemings in the eye. That was what she reminded me of. Someone who’s tired and wouldn't dirty her hands for less than an emergency.

King Lemings swallowed hard and leaned back in the chair, sharing the silence—soaking up that story. Then he said, She’s offered an alliance.

Oh?

King Lemings just nodded.

Terms?

Reparations. Whatever that means.

Are you considering it?

King Lemings opened his mouth but nodded instead, sharing the solemn silence for a few more minutes before steadying his shaking legs and walking back home. Only his home was this castle, and his life was in his audience chamber, so that’s where he sat at present, contemplating his life before looking at the pen and paper beside him.

2

King Quell was speaking to his advisors in his war council chambers when he got a letter from King Lemings. He heated the wax, opened it, and read its contents. After finishing it, he read it again—and then a third time before picking up a water glass and throwing it against the wall. “What is this?” he yelled, throwing the letter on the table for his advisors as if he were throwing meat to wolves. “And he calls himself the ‘Grand Army.’ Unbelievable.”

An advisor frowned as he read. “It seems they’ve had the same problems." He passed it over to a general. “At least we can rule out hyperbole.”

The general reading the letter shook her head. “No….” She looked at the advisor and then the king. “This is very different, My Liege.”

King Quell stopped tapping his fingers against the table and looked at her. “A group of children roaming by silver glider, releasing devastating spells. Pray tell, Molan. What about that is different?”

General Westa Molan, a white-haired woman who was as stoic as a man and twice as manly, put the letter back onto the table. “They’ve killed and captured his forces. They’re not just pushing them back.”

“How many?” an advisor asked.

“It doesn’t say,” King Quell said, feeling a headache coming on. It was already nerve-wracking dealing with the “summonees'' pushing back his army and forcing them to take back routes. There was no doubt if Lady Reece’s forces were aiming to kill, Quell would’ve suffered thousands of casualties. Yet they didn’t. They pushed soldiers halfway through his territory and then turned back without killing anyone. That was the only saving grace of the summonees: they were gentle. Yet if they actually started attacking—King Quell needed to know. But—

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“It doesn’t say!” King Quell repeated, “But it’s obviously a lot!” He snatched the letter off the table and read aloud. “We believe Lady Reece sent us summonees with broken cores to lower our guard. It worked. We were woefully unprepared when she led a small team of her troops into our territory, capturing, killing, and disarming platoons on silver gliders. We have still yet to obtain estimates of her true power, as she has yet to show it. According to her, she was summoned to kill Agronus—and I believe her. I advise that we call an armistice to establish communication and determine whether we’ve mistakenly attacked an ally in the Thousand-Year—bah!” He threw the letter across the table and turned to General Molan. “He’s been devastated! Where are our troops?”

“We have eight thousand waiting in Teeter, a six-hour march from Lemora,” she said. “We can have fifteen there with another moon.”

“How long would it take to make it back from the Lemings Kingdom by silver glider?” He wanted to know about Lady Reece.

“Two days minimum,” she replied.

“And the summons on this side?” he asked, speaking about who he’d later come to know as Lord Martinez.

“They have at least another day’s flight.”

“Markon?” His allied kingdom in the south.

“Ahead of schedule,” General Molan said. “Their entire force will reach Lemora by tomorrow morning.”

“How?”

“There’s been no resistance. The duke and baron territories they passed through were abandoned.”

“So they’re making a stand in Lemora…” King Quell said, stroking his beard.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Can we do it?”

“Do what?”

“Take the city, woman!” King Quell yelled. “What else would we be talking about? Take. The. City. Alecov is there; if we capture him, it doesn’t matter how strong they are.”

“My Liege, I beg you to reconsider. If we capture Alecov, Lady Reece will just take the throne.”

“So what? They’ll just abandon their city?”

“Perhaps.”

King Quell scoffed. “Now, why in the fuck would they do that?”

General Molan closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and locking gazes with her king. “To seize a larger one.”

King Quell trembled and looked around. Then he paced back and forth, kicking the shattered glass on the floor from when he broke the cup. After a few moments, he tapped his forearms, nodded a few times, picked up the letter, and ripped it up. “You’re to take this very seriously,” he said. “We just made enemies with some people this shit pile didn’t research. Now, over half our troops are in their territory, and according to this….” He opened his hands and let the ripped-up letter float to the ground like snow. “Lady Reece is on her way back to her territory. We’ve got two days. If we don’t want her shoving her sword up our asses, we need something to bring to the bargaining table, and by tomorrow, we’ll have 30,000 troops outside Lemora. I want Alecov and any other hostage you can manage. Get me something!”

General Molan nodded. “I’ll send the letters and then set out at once.” She walked to the door, but King Quell stopped her.

“Molan.”

“Yes?”

“If you fuck this up…,” King Quell said chillingly, “don’t come back.”

“Yes, My Liege,” she said and left, leaving King Quell and the advisors in the room, stuck in the balance, fearing for their kingdom, people, and lives.

3

Edico walked along the embattlements, watching earth mages building walls and creating ditches. It made Lemora’s beautiful lands look hideous, but they had created a labyrinth of walls that forced enemy soldiers to run into his traps—or to spend time destroying the reinforced walls. It was psychologically devastating, a tactic that Lady Reece had suggested before she left—which was a joke since it was his strategy. He knew because she gave him this creepy smirk that said, I know your darkest secrets whenever she suggested his tactics or called him out on his bullshit. It was vexing.

They’re coming, he thought, looking toward Teeter. Reports flooded in that Quell’s army had been flooding in from the north and southwest—just not west, which meant that soldiers had just gone around Lord Martinez’s team. Once Edico saw the pattern, he placed a letter in the spatial ring Lady Reece used for letters, and she took it and replaced another, stating that she was already heading back but would not be back for three days. Likewise, he sent the same letter to Lord Martinez, and Edico learned—after a dozen apologies—that he was a day and a half away. That meant that he’d have to face Markon and Quell’s forces—on two fronts—for half a day or more before the heroes arrived.

Well, not exactly. Emma, Tim, Elizabeth, Will, and the non-combatants had returned the night before, but most of them locked themselves away in their rooms in a state of deep trauma. Aside from Emma, who was preparing to medic for the soldiers, Will was the only one doing relatively okay, and he was out reinforcing walls with the enthusiasm of dying monta. Edico and Emma might be able to rouse them to at least do their non-combat jobs, fortifying objects, putting out fires, doing communications work, and the like—but it would only happen if they were desperate. It was just too soon. It was just him and Emma against the world, and Edico was instructed—quite excessively—not to let Emma go into the hot zone. Otherwise, Lady Reece would rain hellfire upon the battlefield—without distinction. Something must’ve happened because she originally meant to leave her, Lord Martinez, and the heroes to defend Lemora alone—but now, she exacted a brutal no-death policy for the heroes.

Edico rubbed his face and turned to one of his majors. “How long do we have?” he asked.

The woman looked to the west, then to the south from the embattlements, watching the sun setting over the horizon, painting the sky with magma and the ground with golden hues. There was a light wind that felt good beneath the armor, and they both looked strangely comfortable despite the anxiety. “Tomorrow morning,” she said.

“You too, huh?” Edico closed his eyes. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

“It’s hard to think they would after what Lady Reece did,” she said.

“I think they will—because of what she did,” Edico said. “I know I would.” Lady Reece was terrifying—absolutely terrifying. Quell and Markon had already made a grave mistake by marching on Lemora—obtaining anything to bargain with was a lot better than waiting around to die.

4

Sara was two and a half days from Lemora, even at top speed, and Raul was over a day from the city. She didn’t give him any instructions on where to go because she didn’t expect him to push so far ahead. In and out: create some demonstrations and leave. She never would’ve believed that he would spend two weeks away from Lemora, barely delaying the Quell army for a couple of days. Now, Emma was all but alone in Lemora, Edico not included, and the first battle (if there was one) would be at morning’s light. Edico could handle it. Sieges were counted in days—not hours. There would be time for Sara to make it back. Still, Emma would fight alone, then Raul’s team would enter the fray, and everyone would fight for an entire day before she arrived. Gripping her reins tightly, she turned to the others: “War’s coming, and we have to protect our people!” she yelled. They expressed their consent, and then they soared through the air at high speed, flying into the dead of night—unwilling to slow down until they were too tired to move on.