"We’re going to die!” shrieked the pudgy squire, clinging to the hem of Asa’s pants, his entire body trembling as his knees pressed into the dirt.

Zander clenched his fists. Everything about this simpering wimp grated on him—from corn-colored hair to the gaudy rings he flaunted like some glittery tavern maid. He looked every bit the pampered lordling, the kind who thought war was a grand adventure, a stroll in the woods with singing birds and faeries twirling around in the sunlight.

Asa’s aura, usually so radiant, dimmed as if some unseen cloud passed over her. “Calm down,” she said gently, like an older sister comforting a frightened baby brother. Zander would’ve rather employed his fists.

“The Sapphires!” he gasped.

Zander imagined how easy it would be to kick him in his round, pampered face. The lordling seemed to have a pie caught in his throat. A series of suffocated sobs parted from his lips, with no further explanation. Useless.

Sir Evan often told Zander that there were two types of male lordlings. The first type was a rough and haughty breed that was capable and responsible. This brand of lordling trained with swords as soon as he could hold a twig, believing themselves superior because they’d been molded from a young age to lord over others. In short, the Whelan Bearbreakers of Leveria.

The second type was like this dripping pool of melted butter. This breed of lordling expected everything to be sweet and easy because they’d never done a hard day’s work. They thought they were superior because they had a family name.

“What’s your name?” Asa asked with the patience of a priestess.

“Varon Von Gaelrich,” the boy stammered.

Asa smiled. “Von Gaelrich? Are you one of Archlord Heinrich’s?”

Varon shook his head. “My father is second cousin to Archlord Heinrich. I was squire to Sir Helior Brighton.”

Asa nodded, her voice warm as sunlight breaking through a rainstorm. “Varon, I’m here to help. Now, tell me what happened?”

He stood, still cowering, though some of the fear drained from his face. “On Zafrir Waxing, Sir Daven led our outpost forces in an assault on the Sapphire forces at Goddess Hill, hoping to catch them by surprise in the night. He never returned.”

“Go on,” Asa urged.

Varon swallowed hard. “The Sapphires… they taunted us. Banged their swords on their shields, just out of range, daring us to strike. Sir Unger Vinton had command, expecting Sir Daven to back him up. He was so sure of our numbers, so sure we’d crush the Sapphire between us.”

Zander scanned the encampment, taking in the disarray. Ruby soldiers milled about aimlessly, their movements sluggish and undirected. The lady medicans all wore the same hollow expression—like women who’d just learned their beloveds wouldn’t be returning home. Zander even caught sight of a priestess of Meladon, her once-proud purple regalia tattered and dull. But she wasn’t offering prayers for the dead or invoking Meladon’s justice, Gidi’s might, Celegana’s perseverance, Ovidon’s diligence, or even Balbaraq’s jackassery. She looked just as broken as the soldiers, resigned to whatever fate Zamael had prepared for them.

Asa’s hand rested lightly on the crybaby lordling’s shoulder. “What happened next?”

Varon shook, tears rushing down his cheeks. “Sir Unger charged ahead, sure of victory. But the Sapphires didn’t break. I watched from the bastion as they… they cut through our ranks like they were nothing.” His voice caught again, another sob threatening to spill over. He turned his head away from Asa.

“People are looking to me because of my name, but I’ve been waiting for help from the Impwood. We sent messengers for a Peacewatch army, but we haven’t seen them or a single reinforcement from Nash.”

“Your messengers never made it through the Impwood,” Asa told Varon. Zander inhaled, remembering the grisly sight where the sasquatch ambushed them.

Varon’s lips quivered. “Only three of you...”

Asa’s aura lost some shine, and her eyes went to her feet.

Alfread’s deep laugh broke the tension. “Only three!” he roared, his voice as mighty as a regal lion addressing a legless pig covered in its own feces. He made a sweeping gesture toward Zander. “Here stands Leveria’s strongest warrior,” he thumbed his chest with a charismatic grin, “and its finest archer,” he placed his hand on Asa’s shoulder, “and its most radiant witch.”

Asa’s eyes shot up, her aura brightened, and her face glowed with renewed confidence.

Zander beamed. This was why he came home. For glory, for battle, for the chance to make his mark. His voice rang out with conviction: “Mirrevar! We will persevere and triumph!”

The soldiers turned their heads, eyes drawn to the newcomers. Hope flickered in their weary gazes.

“Gather the others,” Asa commanded Varon. “Have them assemble by the east gate in a half angle.”

“I c-c-can do that,” he said, his voice wavering, the words half-question, half-statement.

“I know you can,” Asa said, her voice carrying enough conviction for the both of them.

Varon smiled faintly, offering a very extravagant bow that must have been part of the lordling curriculum. He turned and sprinted off through the camp, moving with newfound purpose.

Asa’s aura drew the attention of every soldier and medican as they made their way through the camp. Zander noticed people staring at him too, sizing him up. He stood tall, muscles tense and ready, letting them see power to give them faith. Let them know we’re here to win, he thought.

Asa moved gracefully through the disarray, her eyes sharp, assessing everything with silent scrutiny. Her smile remained hopeful, though she spoke little, offering only nods and brief commands to those who approached. “I’ll see you at the east gate,” she’d say, and without fail, the faces of those she passed seemed to brighten, a flicker of hope kindling in their eyes.

Most of the soldiers wore green linen uniforms embroidered with a purple grapevine and an apple tree, marking them as Hedgemen from Noraligrove, Archlord Brighton’s military. Scattered among them were a few in undyed linen bearing the emblem of a man wrestling a bear. They moved in disordered groups, and Zander noticed many of their weapons were poorly maintained. He hoped Sir Daven Brighton had prepared these troops for the night ahead, though his gut told him otherwise.

Asa paused when they reached a hedge of apple trees, the branches forming a crude wall. But it was more holes than hedge. The Sapphire forces would slip through it with ease.

Onagers and scorpions were set up by the east gate, but they sat unmanned, and only a handful of projectiles were ready. The palisade wall stood eerily empty except for four young men patrolling the battlements. They moved with purpose, their attire marking them as common soldiers. At least these few hadn’t given up hope.

Yet, one of them was anything but common. Though not as tall as Alfread, he was nearly as handsome, better groomed and with a confidence that radiated from him. He strode toward the three of them. “Welcome to Mirrevar.”

“It’s good to be home,” Zander said.

The young man smiled, nodding. “It’s my home too, and it’s worth saving.” He extended his hand. “River.”

Zander accepted his offer of friendship, gripping firmly. “Zander.”

River’s smile deepened. “Glad to meet you, Zander. You look like someone who can help us bring peace to our home again.”

Zander grinned in return, feeling seen by those stark grey eyes. There was something about River, a quiet charisma that made you want to be better. Zander recalled Sir Edward’s final lesson before he left Bear’s Crossing: heroes inspired those around him to become the best versions of themselves. Zander felt those words now, embodied in River.

“I’m glad to see not everyone here has lost hope,” Asa interjected. “I’m Master Asa of Ferrickton.” She stepped forward, removing her hand from the tower’s ladder and offering it to River.

River took her hand with the same warmth he’d shown Zander. “We haven’t lost hope, Master Asa,” he said, correcting her with a soft smile. “It’s only been misplaced. But I know your light will help us find it again.” His gaze shifted to the crowd gathering near the gate. “Many here are already finding their way back. It’s a blessing that you three arrived on the edge of such a long night.”

Asa’s aura brightened. “What have you seen from the battlements?”

“Sapphire sent a couple of scouting parties this morning. Me and the Hometown Heroes shot at them.” He frowned. “Sapphire knows we’re vulnerable. Gordan thinks they’ll attack under the full moon.”

“Hometown Heroes?” Alfread asked.

River chuckled, gesturing to himself and the three boys on the battlements. “The four of us. We’re all born in Mirrevar, though we lost our homes as sucklings. We grew up in Nash, dreaming of reclaiming our birthplace. Sir Daven called us the ‘Hometown Heroes’ as a joke, but we wear it like a sigil carved into our hearts.” He looked meaningfully at Zander. “The five of us now. You’re one of us, Zander.”

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River extended his hand to Alfread next. Alfread accepted it without hesitation. “I’m Alfread. It’s my honor to make your acquaintance, River.”

“The honor’s mine, friend,” River said. “I’ve never seen a man cast a such a long shadow. You must have some greatness burning within, just waiting to shine its light on the world.”

Three sets of eyes drew toward Alfread’s shadow. It was at least a dozen feet long, longer even than Zander’s shadow. Alfread looked both delighted and discomfited by the unique introduction. River’s face was earnest. He was either speaking with true feeling or he was particularly skilled at japing.

He was skilled. River chuckled. “Easy, friend. Have a laugh!”

Alfread’s mouth opened, then settled into a grin. River’s hearty laugh filled the air, his dark curls bouncing as he clapped Alfread on the back.

“We’ll continue our watch on the walls,” River said. “Let us know how we can help guard the realm.”

Asa bowed her head in thanks. “Your watch is invaluable.”

River bowed in return and headed back to the battlements with his companions.

Zander watched him go. The Hometown Heroes. Lost children of Mirrevar. A group where I belong. A warm happiness grew within Zander.

Asa was the first to ascend the watchtower’s ladder, with Alfread and Zander trailing behind. “This tower should never be empty,” Asa said, her aura dimming. “The Sapphires will strike at any moment!” Her voice quivered with frustration, her long hair whipping like a horse’s tail as she shook her head. Despite her small frame, the force of her anger was startling. “They’re just waiting to die… except those for boys,” she muttered, her light brown cheeks flushing with rage. “This is Leveria’s most crucial disputed territory. Zamael’s Hells! How could they let it get like this? Divinedamned Hedgemen!” She buried her face in her hands, her glow almost imperceptible.

Zander stood by, uncertain how to console her. He exhaled heavily and turned his gaze beyond the palisades, toward the distant fields of his homeland. Rolling hills, streams, and vibrant flowers stretched endlessly across the landscape. From afar, the colossal tree where he was born ruled the skies, its canopies painting the horizon in more colors than Zander knew existed. For a moment, he had no thoughts of war or death. Love and peace filtered into his soul as though he were sharing a kiss with his life’s mate. He reached his hand to his sternum, smiling that he no longer had somebody else’s locket dangling there.

“All is not lost, Asa,” Alfread said gently, stepping toward her. “The Sapphires haven’t taken the encampment yet. We may not stand a chance in the field, but we still have the fortifications. If we use them well, we can win this.”

Asa frowned at Alfread. “Did you see the soldiers? Most of them are farm boys, barely more than children. They’re the dregs of the Hedgeman, untrained and with no fight left in them. Even from behind these walls, they won’t stand a chance against trained knights and cognitive-affectomancers.”

Zander had heard enough. “You underestimate them!” he barked, stepping closer to Asa, his voice rising with passion. “They’re every bit as valiant as lordlings! They just need hope! They need you to inspire them!”

Asa recoiled, backing against the railing of the tower. She lowered her head and whispered, “How can I give them hope when I have no hope myself?”

“Asa,” Alfread said softly, smiling at her, “what are you best at? What did we talk about on the way here?”

“Poisons?” Asa’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her, and her aura flared to life again. “Of course! We can arm our best archers with poisoned arrows and use our height advantage to take out any knights or wizards that try to approach.”

Alfread nodded. “Exactly. But that alone won’t be enough. Some of their forces will still reach the palisades. Then what?”

Asa bit her lip, straining her mind. “We don’t have enough soldiers, arrows, or poison to stop all of them. They’ll break through our line and overrun our forces.”

“That’s where I come in,” Zander said, drawing his blade. “They’ll come for that gate,” he pointed to the east gate where the camp’s forces assembled below, “and they’ll find no weakness where my sword meets them.”

“Exactly!” Alfread said.

Asa scoffed. “Your plan is to have Zander hold the gate against an entire army?” She reached out and squeezed Zander’s bicep. “I’m afraid not even you are that good, Muscles.”

“No,” Alfread replied, frowning. “They will try to breach any weakness in the wall. We’ll give them another way in, a way where they’ll find no weakness.”

Asa blinked, her eyes glazing as if that was the single most stupid idea that had ever been thought and she couldn’t believe that Alfread lacked the filter to realize just how horrible the idea was. “You want to give the enemy an opening?”

“No,” Alfread said, grinning, “I think I’d like to give them two more openings.”

Asa folded her arms over her chest. She shook her head, mouth slightly ajar. A disbelieving snort escaped.

“Think of the gate as if it was your mouth,” Alfread said.

“What?” she asked.

Alfread held his fingers together and reached toward Asa’s mouth. Her lips parted and his fingers breached the opening.

Asa stepped back, her expression torn between bewilderment and anger. “Alfread!”

Zander leaned against the railing, eager to see where this gambit led.

Alfread wagged his finger. “Bear with me. If your mouth is the only opening the enemy can see to get inside of you—

“Alfread!”

Zander erupted with laughter while Asa’s frown deepened but her aura glowed fierce.

Alfread held up his hand. “If the Sapphires see the gate as their only entry point, they’ll focus all their forces there. That’ll go just like how my combined fingers did against your mouth. Their condensed attack will break through no matter how hard your teeth, or our poisoned arrows, bite down.”

Asa nodded. “Probably. I still don’t see how giving them two more openings will help beyond getting us killed three times as fast.”

“Asa Radiant,” Alfread said, tsk-tsking. “Your face isn’t just a mouth.”

Zander had to give Alfread credit for continuing undeterred, above his raucous laughter and Asa’s glowering.

“You have nostrils, eyes, even ears,” Alfread said, grinning. “All these orifices that one might use to get inside of you.”

“Get to the point,” Asa commanded, stepping toward Alfread.

Alfread held up his hand, this time his fingers were spread out. “If I try to break inside of you by sending one finger at your mouth, one to each of your nostrils, and so on—” Alfread did so. His lone finger at her mouth couldn’t breach her lips, until she opened and chomped down.

Alfread pulled his whole hand back, massaging the bit fingertip.

“Thou shalt not cross!” Asa declared, her voice as deep as she could make it.

Alfread grinned. “Master of the Amulet! I love that story!” He sized her up with his eyes, as if this was the determining factor in him fully committing to spending the rest of his life with this woman.

Asa beamed. “I see what you mean, though your metaphor wouldn’t hold up at the Leverian University. What stops them from hitting each of the three openings like a fist, and how could we create openings that aren’t easier to breach than the gate?”

“We lift the drawbridge and keep it sealed tight like a closed mouth.” Alfread pointed toward a section of wall to the north where the ground was particularly higher inside the camp than outside. “We add a nostril there, put Zander and some of the encampment’s best fighters alongside him while archers and onagers create a killing field beyond the trench. The Sapphires will either need to climb out of the trench, their heads exposed to Zander’s blade, or cross a narrow ladder single file, running straight into,” Alfread swung his arm toward Zander, “Zander’s blade.” He clapped Zander on the back. “Zander’s blades haven’t lost a battle in years, and I doubt these poor Sapphires stand a chance at changing that with such disadvantages.”

Zander grunted in approval. It wouldn’t be as glorious as he imagined his first battle, but he’d revel in the easy conquest.

Alfread pointed toward the cesspit, to the south of the gate. “There’s our other nostril. The Sapphire will be head-high in shite and unable to climb out while we slaughter them.”

Asa nodded, a smile blooming on her precious face. “We bite down on them from all three holes and they might retreat, thinking us more formidable than they assumed.”

“Yes,” Alfread said. “The Sapphire’s forceful fist becomes the fumbling fingers. The Zanders guard the breaches while our Alfreads bite down on our disjointed enemies with poisoned teeth.”

“And what would you have our Asas do?” she asked.

“Asas?” Alfread said, in mock scorn. “No, no, no. There is only one Asa. She’s the most important of all. Her spells send our enemies into disarray and turn those fists into scattered fingers. She shines a light, like the white wizard from Master of the Amulet, which promises our victory. Asa Radiant is our hope.”

Asa took in a deep breath, her aura shining brighter than the sun. “Let’s assume the Sapphire has a tactician that matches the cunning of a seventeen-year-old farmer from Bear’s Crossing. What prevents them from detecting the trap and ignoring the breaches?”

“They’ve scouted us,” Alfread said. “They know how weakly this fort is held, and how easy it should be to run right through our breaches and drive us out of Mirrevar. Their greatest military minds also have calendars. Tomorrow is Meladon’s Day, where it would be sacrilege for them to strike. But if they don’t attack now, Urzport might flood the encampment with Peacewatch knights and soldiers that actually have received competent training.”

“They need a quick victory,” Zander said, acknowledging that his friend’s talents were not wasted in the disputed territories, that he could find success beyond the confines of the Leverian University.

“Given that they need to win the camp tonight,” Asa said, “they will leave behind equipment needed for a siege and the breaches will be as irresistible as honey to an alfur.”

Alfread put his hand on Asa’s shoulder. “We can win this, Radiant. All you have to do is inspire them.” Alfread tilted his head toward the growing assembly of ramshackle forces at the gate.

“You’re either the most brilliant boy I’ve ever met,” Asa said, “or a divinedamned fool.”

Asa was descending the ladder before Alfread could respond. Zander clapped him on the back. “Nice work, general.”

Alfread grinned. “That felt so right. So easy.”

“And to think it’s all because I told you not to overthink it.”

Alfread chortled. “You’re a good friend, Zander.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Zander said, rushing to catch up with Asa.

Zander and Alfread joined the assembled troops, towering over hundreds of soldiers, medicans, and camp followers that anxiously awaited Asa’s speech. The four Hometown Heroes remained on the battlements, their gazes flitting from Asa to the flowery fields of Mirrevar.

Asa stepped onto the battlements. Her aura pulsed with light, shining brighter than a star. When she spoke, her voice boomed magically. “Brave warriors of the Ruby Kingdom! I have a plan!” She winked at Alfread, and the silence of anticipation settled over the crowd.

“We will smash them against our walls! Tear them open with a storm of arrows! They will flee like cravens once they face our light!” Rays of light beamed out of Asa’s white staff. They burst in every direction, every angle, rising to the heavens. For all their luminosity, the aura around her was the most radiant light of all.

Zander’s blood stirred. He was unstoppable. They couldn’t be defeated. Victory was theirs to seize. Tonight was the night that Zander of Mirrevar would become a legend, a true hero of Leveria.

“We are Leveria’s truest protectors!” Asa declared. “And our cause is the righteous one!”

A thunderous cheer erupted from the camp, and Zander’s own roars were loudest of all.