Little: 2

Later, I eased the door shut behind me, backing away from it. Picking my way through snoring, drink-addled Conscripted soldiers without waking them up had been a tad difficult for me, considering sneaking and nimble feet had never been my specialty. Those tasks were more suited for Ring or Pointer, but somehow, I’d managed it tonight.

Besides that annoyance, my skill set had almost fortuitously matched up with this infiltration’s challenges. Reading a room or a client and becoming the person needed in the moment were skills that I’d mastered long ago, and those had helped with my chosen task.

One of the reasons I’d picked the Birthing Grounds to infiltrate was because it had been the most difficult of the options laid before the Hand. I’d thought the challenge of it would be a welcome change from the boredom of sailing and the monotony of fighting. I wasn’t a soldier, damnit! I was a spy.

So, when the choices presented to me had been investigating Doldimar’s workshop of Kiraak or an extensive list of trading towns, I’d jumped on the one interesting task on the list. I hadn’t thought about what might happen if I successfully infiltrated the place.

For one thing, I’d realized that the soldiers that I’d killed during the battle two months ago might have been like the people in the squad I’d left behind, and that made my stomach hurt. Middle and Pointer would laugh at my naivety, but they’d fought in battles before, many of them. I’d joined the Hand in a time of peace, a time when little killing had been required of me. If I was called to fight once more, could I bury the knowledge that each enemy soldier I would face had a life outside of the battlefield, especially given my reaction to the beach battle now?

Softly laughing, I shook my head, not sure why I was worrying about that. I doubted it would be a problem, considering how many other things I’d had to mentally shove to the side in the past.

When I eventually reached the house at the center of the Birthing Grounds, the gate for the fence around it was locked, something that shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The captain of the squad I’d joined had claimed that the Birthing Grounds was open to all, so I’d assumed that would mean no locks. Apparently, I’d been wrong.

On testing how much space I could coax from in between the gate and its fence, I made a face. The fit would be tight, but I’d rather thread through this opening than climb over the fence or pick its lock. Again, that was a specialty for another member of the Hand, Thumb in this case, and if I hadn’t gained any weight in the last month…

I squeezed through the gap by the barest of margins, ripping my tunic on the way. Sucking on a finger, I ran my eyes over the yard around the house, unsurprised by how little I could see in the dim light.

Even still, when clothing rustled somewhere nearby, I skipped away from the noise.

From out of the shadows, a woman asked, “Are you… you’re not one of Doldimar’s, are you? Can you help me?”

“Please, help me!” I cry at the woman who’s come to retrieve her husband.

Snarling, she kicks at me, calling me…

“…a bad boy! How dare you! How dare you! How dare-!”

“I’m sorry,” I sharply said. “I can’t help. Not now. I’ve got a job to do.”

Wincing, I turned away from the woman, and as I raced across the grass, her sobs chased me. I reminded myself that I’d spoken the truth, stopping the shudder that wanted to race across my skin. I couldn’t help her, but maybe Raimie could. The sooner I finished with scouting this place, the sooner I could report to the king, and the sooner the army could free this place… if the king chose to take it.

That reasoning did nothing to banish a deep well of guilt inside.

While skirting the house, I looked for points of ingress. If I wanted to keep my presence here undetected, I couldn’t waltz through the front door as if I belonged. Fortunately, this house had been poorly constructed. Given enough pressure, its daub walls crumbled beneath my fingers, and after making my way to a second-story window, I slipped inside.

The smell hit me first. The stink of sweat and fear were so familiar that they brought tears to my eyes, setting my stomach roiling. A metallic scent of spilled blood delicately intertwined with the other two, and on noting it, I gagged, fighting against a long-buried memory…

My first client of the day leaves, and I let myself relax. So far, I'm not too badly hurt. I can keep going, maybe earn enough coin for two meals today instead of one. Please, let it be so.

When my next client knocks, it pulls me out of bed with silent complaints, but still, I get up. Unfortunately, when I open the door, I know I’ve gotten unlucky. The big man on the other side is one of my regulars—

“…survived your first night.”

—so I know EXACTLY what to expect.

No, no, no, no, NO! I… wasn’t there anymore. I wasn’t…

With difficulty, I pushed that Alouin damned memory away before it could get to the worst parts. Spitting the remnants of vomit out of my mouth, I winced at the pile of it at my feet, wiping my fingers on my tunic. So much for staying undetected.

It was fine, though. I could… do this. I could.

So.

With my eyes having adjusted to the dark, I scanned my surroundings. I was in a child’s room, complete with a toy wooden sword and rocking horse, and this peaceful setting created a strange sense of disconnect with the memory that a smell had just provoked.

Retreating into the hall, I searched the top floor on shaky legs, growing steadily more confused as I did. So far, this house seemed like just that: a home. From the way the captain had reacted to it, I’d expected something more than this.

When I reached the foyer downstairs, its normal state—populated with traditional decorations and furniture—finished my climb back into a fully rational state. Two doors flanked the staircase in the center of this room. Perhaps what had everyone in the Birthing Ground so afraid lay behind them.

When I slipped through one of the doors, what sense of normalcy the rest of the house had exuded was shattered on the other side, nearly ruining my own regained rationality. Here, the first floor had been hollowed out to make room for lines of people, hanging from the ceiling by their wrists. Blood was pooling beneath their feet, dripping from the lacerations that coated their bodies, and so much of it puddled beneath them that it had stained the floor red.

On the far side of the room, a man was standing in front of a prisoner, humming. The blue tinge in his blonde hair glistened in the firelight while black armor tightly encased his body, and while I watched, checking whether he’d noticed me, shadows gathered around his burn-scarred hand. He needled those shadows into a cut on the prisoner’s stomach, and she moaned, weakly struggling against her chains.

Holding my breath, I reached for the latch behind me. This room and the scene I’d found in it? I needed to escape from it now, before the other man saw me, but before I could get out, the same shadows from earlier darted for my face. I dove to the side, barely dodging that bolt, and when I sprang back to my feet, the other man was standing nearby with his gray eyes narrowed. Eselan, then.

He was much too close, so I stumbled backward until a wall halted my retreat. Fuck. How was I getting out of this now?

“What are you?” the Eselan asked. “Not a Kiraak. I don’t sense Corruption in you. I suppose you could be sworn to me, but that’s unlikely. You’re not cowering enough to be one of those weaklings.”

With his head cocked, he paused, as if listening to someone.

“Corruption says you have Ele’s stench on you, but you’re obviously not a primeancer,” he eventually continued. “What are you?”

He stepped toe-to-toe with me, leaving me plastered against the wall, and as a hungry look overtook the Eselan, I forcibly stopped a scream from emerging, leaving it unsung against the block in my throat.

“Are you from him?” the Eselan asked. “Are you a gift of entertainment?”

He narrowed his gray eyes again.

“Your name,” he demanded.

And coughing, I was helpless to say anything but, “Lornilen.”

Deep in the past, a witch of a woman snaps at me.

“Names hold power, young wretch!”

As the voice faded, I snapped my eyes wide with a gasp. I hadn’t used that name since Middle had recruited me, so many years ago. It carried too much… history. Why the hell would I speak it now? Sure, this Eselan might remind me of clients from long ago, but that shouldn’t be enough to drag such a reluctant truth from me.

Frowning, the Eselan retreated half a step, running his eyes over me.

“Hmm,” he said. “You’ve experienced devastation of the soul, haven’t you?”

But he hadn’t asked it like a true question. Still, I couldn’t let him be the one to speak my own damn story, so I gritted my teeth and forced myself to admit a most unwelcome truth.

“I have a pretty face. It hasn't helped me over the years.”

Something shifted behind the Eselan’s eyes while he distractedly nodded.

“I understand. More than you can know,” he said.

But then, he stepped back into my personal space with his head cocked.

“Do you know an Ele primeancer, Lornilen?” he asked. “He’d try to fade into the background, only revealing his power as a last resort.”

Oh, thank Alouin. I had an answer for this question. Something about our interaction was screaming mortal danger to me, something more than the bodies hanging nearby or the way this man was looking at me, and I wasn’t keen on finding out what that meant.

“There was an Eselan, Rhylix, who matched your description,” I said, “but I’m sorry to say that he’s dead. Several people attacked him last week. He succumbed to his injuries shortly after that.”

The Eselan mouthed the name ‘Rhylix’, but then, he shook his head.

“He’s not dead, can’t be,” he said. “No, he’ll be the newest person attached to your leader, whoever that happens to be.”

Strangely, I believed this claim. In the short time I’d known the man, Rhylix had pulled off many unbelievable feats. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he'd somehow faked his death.

As if to draw my attention back to my peril, the Eselan flinched before turning aside.

“I don’t want to kill him yet,” he growled. “I’m trying to… hell, I hate you.”

Shit. How would I escape from this catastrophe?

No. That was the wrong question, always had been. The right one was: who did I need to become so that this crazy Eselan let me live?

Best to start with the most commonly desired ‘victim demeanor’.

With my lip trembling, I hesitantly said, “Please, sir. I- I’ll do anything you…”

Trailing off, I frowned. Given the way the Eselan was now looking at me, that role didn’t seem right.

“You’ll never get me to talk, though!” I said, trying again.

And… no. That wasn’t right either.

Peeling myself off of the wall, I forcibly brushed past the Eselan, striding to where I could poke at a hanging prisoner. That hapless man swung back and forth with each pass blocking my view of the Eselan, thank Alouin.

“Fuck if I know how you want me to act,” I said. “You’re impossible to read.”

Which was disconcerting. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d failed with this simplest of tasks.

When the Eselan burst into laughter, slapping at his knee, I tensed, watching him as I distractedly swung the prisoner once more. Eventually, the Eselan calmed down.

Wiping his eyes, he said, “You know what? I’ll make you a deal. I’m going to ruin your pretty face—”

A knife materialized in the Eselan’s hand.

“—and if you can keep from flinching while I do that, then maybe, I’ll let you go. If not, I’ll kill you.”

Oh, Alouin. No. Please, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck-!

STOP IT!

Slowly, I forced myself to take a steadying breath. Right now, I couldn’t be emotional. I must look at this situation as if it were a transaction, as so much of my life had been. If I did that, then there was only one way to answer this unhinged man.

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Shrugging, I waved at the ground.

“Can I at least sit while you’re working, though? A man can only take so much pain before his legs give out.”

Fleeing or fighting hadn’t even crossed my mind. If that earlier display of shadows was any indication, then this Eselan was a Daevetch primeancer. I wouldn’t make it to the door before a bolt of that energy tore a hole through me, and I knew from past experience that I could handle any pain that this man might choose to inflict. So, which would I rather keep? My looks or my life?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

As said, it was a relatively simple transaction.

Grinning, the Eselan gestured to a spot in front of him.

“Please, sit.”

I did as I was told, shifting on the floor until I was comfortable. Once I’d gotten settled, the Eselan joined me so that our knees were touching. Perched so close together, we might have looked like children playing a game, if not for our ages and the knife between us.

That brightly flashing knife.

Clasping my hands in my lap, I said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

So, the Eselan lifted the thin blade, resting it on my skin. He hummed a strange tune as he cut and mangled my flesh.

For my part, I sat motionless. Sure, there was pain here, but pain was a friend. It was a reminder that I was alive. That I hadn’t wasted away in my former home.

Still, while the mind might be strong, the body was weak, and I had to clench my hands to keep them from shaking.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Eselan finished with one side of my face, and while he worked on the other, I retreated to the one happy place in my mind.

My final client of the day is due at any moment, and I’m scrambling to get this room straightened up. Before I'm finished, a knock comes, and I answer it, as I must. The man behind the door doesn’t look like the type to visit a place like this, but I learned long ago how deceiving appearances could be.

Stepping to the side, I wave him inside.

“Please, come in.”

Reluctantly crossing the threshold, the man stops short on fully seeing the room. Squeezing around my client, I lie on the bed with my arms behind my head. This man seems uncomfortable, shifting in place, and I internally groan. I prefer it when the client knows what they want because then, I don’t have to think. I only need to react, letting me send my mind elsewhere.

“What’s your name?” I ask, innocently blinking.

The wide-eyed routine usually works well with these types.

“Oswin,” my client says.

Ah. If he decided to go with a name like that, maybe the man does know what he wants. He isn’t Eselan, if his features are anything to go by. Therefore, choosing a name that’s typical for the world’s second race must have been deliberate. I can work with this.

Sitting up, I fold my hands into my lap.

“Forgive me, sir. My magic is quite rusty.”

Glancing down, I force a blush into my cheeks.

“I can’t make it any bigger than it already-”

“No!”

Shooting his hand up, the client clutches at his forehead, wincing.

“It’s not like that,” he says. “Oswin’s really my name, a cruel joke on my parent’s part.”

Now I’m thoroughly confused. Relaxing my pose, I sprawl across the bed, looking my client up and down.

“Why are you here, then?” I ask. “You’re obviously not interested in my body, and I don’t own anything else of value.”

Oswin makes a funny noise in the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes closed.

“I’m here because of your parents,” he chokes out. “We were well acquainted before they moved to the Southern Kingdoms. Grew up together in Daira’s Audish slums, in fact. Even after they moved, we wrote to one another.

“They always joked about how I’d be their kid’s godparent, if they had one. When I learned they’d passed, I used up my resources looking for you. Finding you took longer than I’d have liked, and I’m sorry for that.”

I’ve decided this client is speaking gibberish or… something. That or this is an incredibly elaborate fantasy on his part.

“I may have a job for you,” Oswin continues. “I’ve heard you’re quite good at reading your… client’s moods. It’s probably why you’ve lasted this long without gaining a disfigurement. The Queen of Ada’ir could use someone like you in her Hand.”

Oh… I get it now. This is a scenario I’m familiar with.

Rising from the bed, I say, “Well, master spy, I’m not terribly exceptional at blending into a crowd or finding things, but I’m sure I can manage tonight.”

I reach for the man, but he snatches my hands before I can get anywhere close to my goal.

“Lornilen, I’m serious!” he shouts.

For a moment, time stops for me, leaving the room spinning, and I drop onto the bed. Heavily.

Clients aren’t supposed to know my name—

“NAMES HAVE POWER!”

—and the house madam had always been diligent when it comes to withholding them. A client learning my true name can impinge upon my safety, and I make the house too much money for its owners to take the risk.

“You’re… telling the truth?” I hesitantly ask.

“I am. I knew your parents, and I can give you a job. A much more wholesome one,” Oswin says. “I can take you away from this place. Is that what you want?”

Is that what I want? What sort of question is-?

My body’s shaking. Why is it shaking? What’s going-?

Bursting into tears, I wail my answer into this hell-like room.

“YES!”

The knife was pulled away from my face for a final time, and reluctantly, I returned to the present. In front of me, the Eselan grunted with his brow furrowed.

“No flinching,” he said.

Why had he sounded so surprised?

“Does that mean I can go?” I asked.

Fuck, that had hurt. With each word, fire had lanced through my open wounds, cracking them ever wider, and I fought to keep from swiping at the blood seeping over my mouth and chin.

Turning to the side, the Eselan grimaced.

“No! That was impressive,” he hissed. “I’m not killing him! So, shut up, pest.”

Odd that he was still speaking with something that wasn’t there. Then again… maybe it was best not to focus on that. Maybe it was best to listen to the helpful part.

The Eselan meant to let me go.

“I’ll leave you with your playthings, then,” I said with difficulty.

Rapidly blinking, the Eselan fixed his eyes on me before roughly jerking away.

“What-?!”

I held still, praying no further horror was coming, while the Eselan’s face morphed from confusion to something… unexpected.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “What did I…?”

Falling forward, he collapsed on himself, hiding his face in his hands.

“You should get out. Now,” he said. “I don’t know when Corruption’s coming back. I don’t know if I can… Just get out. Please.”

I didn’t know what to make of this, but then again, I didn’t care about understanding right now. Instead, I focused on leaving the room.

Getting to my feet took almost all of the energy I had, making me trudge if I wanted to move. I’d almost made it to the door before the Eselan’s voice stopped me short.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said through his hands, “but if you see that Rhylix person again, could you give him a message? Tell him Arivor received his letter and says hello.”

It took me a moment to process what the Eselan had said. That man had ruined my face, and now, he was asking for something else? What the hell?

But… on the other hand, his request was relatively simple. Given that it involved Raimie’s friend, maybe it could help the king in some way, and that was the primary purpose of a spy from a Hand.

So, I tiredly nodded before leaving through the front door. I shuffled through the yard, and when I reached the gate, the woman from before burst into laughter.

“I see you completed your work with regaling success,” she sarcastically said.

Actually, yes, I had, and in more ways than that woman could know. I knew where the Kiraak were made in the Birthing Grounds, a location of prime importance in my king’s revolt. When we eventually took this place, Raimie would be able to more quickly finish his work here if he knew exactly which building to target first, and if my looks had been the price needed for that knowledge, so be it.

Given that, it was relatively easy to ignore the woman’s cackling as I left the house with its fence behind.

Fortunately for me, the Birthing Grounds seemed to follow a day-night cycle. As I dazedly wandered between barracks, weaving all the while, no one was outside to mock my stumble or notice my wounds. I was grateful for the silence all around me, a respite I needed if I was going to box up my pain yet again.

“Private! Where do you think you’re going?”

Or maybe that pain had been distracting me. How had I not noticed the only person outside right now? As I stopped short, trying to figure out where the voice had come from, the captain from the Conscripted squad I’d ‘joined’ glided in front of me, sucking in a breath when he saw my face.

Digging through his pockets, he said, “I told you to stay away from the center of the Birthing Grounds! Hell. Seems you’ve met our Dark Lord, huh?”

Despite how much it hurt, I squeaked, “That was Doldimar? He’s insane!”

Which only made the captain quirk an eyebrow.

“Why does that surprise you?” he said before handing me a capped jar and several clean strips of cloth. “That’s a salve and some bandaging for when the bleeding stops. Always good to keep those on hand when you’re Conscripted. Anyway, they should keep infection from setting in while you travel. I’d tell you to see a healer before you go anywhere, but I’d guess from your hurried pace that you need to reach Tiro as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” I numbly said. “I’m sure I’ll-”

But then, what he’d said sank in, and I took a step back.

“Tiro?!”

“Sure,” the captain said with a grin. “You work for Ky, right?”

Oh, I couldn’t handle this right now, not with everything else on my plate. I needed… I needed to leave, damnit.

So, I snapped, “Who the fuck is Ky?”

I’d never heard that name before, but given how often it had come up today, perhaps I should learn who it belonged to.

“Oh, cut the bull, Private. I knew you were a spy from the moment you slunk into our column ,” the captain said. “Thought it was strange that you didn’t reach out when I gave you an opening earlier, so I wasn’t sure who your master was until I saw your face. Only those of us who work for Kylorian are crazy enough to endure something like that.”

As he waved at my face, I fought to keep it still instead of grimacing as I might like. This was not good.

“I don’t work for a ‘Kylorian’,” I said. “You’ve mistaken me.”

Gingerly, I tried to step around the captain, but a hand on my shoulder kept me from striding away.

“Then, who do you serve?” the captain said. “You are a spy, right?”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Discovery was not an option!

…Or was that the early days of my training creeping up on me again? I… I was having a hard time with focusing right now.

“Let me leave without a fuss, Captain, and maybe I won’t report you to Enforcer Adrinosk,” I said, keeping my voice as cold as possible.

Please, for Alouin’s sake, say the captain would be scared off by my threat.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have only made the captain chuckle.

“You are!” he once again insisted. “If you were Doldimar’s creature, you’d have run for the nearest Overseer long before now.”

Ho.ly. fuck. Why was this man so persistent?

“Maybe I’m just returning the favor you paid me,” I hissed.

But the captain shook his head.

“Even someone as new as you has had loyalty driven in deep,” he said. “Fear of him would have had you reporting my behavior as soon as possible, regardless of the favor you owe or any danger I might present.”

I could say nothing more. I’d run out of protests, but I also couldn’t agree with the captain, could I? What if this was a trap? What if this was…?

Hell, I was getting dizzy.

Sighing, the captain shook his head, staring at the ground.

“Look,” he said. “I may have found myself leading one of Doldimar’s best Conscripted squads, but I didn’t start here. I come from Tiro. Kylorian, Tanwadur’s eldest son, recruited me for his resistance soon after my hometown’s Harvest drove me to their refuge. He sent me and my partner, Ibilfer, to this place so we could serve as an early warning system for other towns’ Harvests.”

Crossing my arms, I pursed my lips, which I immediately regretted. Damn these cuts.

This man hadn’t given me enough proof of his association with Tiro. The enemy could have gleaned the information he'd shared through intelligence work. Even Overseer Raelinov had known Kylorian’s name. So, why should I trust this man?

“For Alouin’s sake!” the captain said. “Ibilfer and I sent the warning to Ren about Lindow’s Harvest. I know it got to her late, but we did the best we could!”

Now, Ren’s forewarned information on Lindow was something the enemy probably didn’t know about, not with how little time had passed between then and now, but I couldn’t be sure about that. The captain seemed genuine, but my confrontation with Doldimar had left me shaken.

That Eselan had read as dangerous and bloodthirsty in one moment and confused and compassionate in the next. It had been the first time I couldn’t read someone in a while, and the temporary loss of my greatest ability had made me antsy. So, could I trust the captain?

I’d have to take a chance with it. If I didn’t get past this man sometime in the next few minutes, I might end up collapsing on him instead.

“Yes, I’ve come from Tiro as well, but I don’t serve your master,” I said. “I’ve never met a Kylorian, but me and mine only recently reached Auden. I might have missed him in the chaos of our arrival.”

“Does that mean you’re from the Matvai Homeland?” the captain asked. “Why would the clans suddenly join the resistance? That would be… surprising.”

Matvai… Homeland? Alouin, there was so much my people don’t know about this place.

“No, we’re not part of any… clan,” I said. “We’re from Ada’ir.”

That just made the captain look confused.

“It’s a kingdom across the sea?” I made myself continue.

“Across the sea…” the captain said before trailing off.

It took him a moment to process that, and as he did, I wondered if I could leave now. I… needed to rest. Soon.

“But… we haven’t heard from those kingdoms in years,” the captain eventually continued. “They have no stake in our fight, not since Doldimar closed the border to trade. Unless-”

Disquiet captured his face, and I clicked my tongue.

“Look, I have to go. Now,” I said. “I need to get some rest somewhere safe, and then, I should return to my king as soon as possible. This salve might help with keeping these cuts from festering, but I can't get them sutured until after I’ve delivered my report.”

The captain, however, seemed to be too caught up in realization to listen.

“You said king,” he said. “Could it be true? Will those ridiculous, old foretellings actually be fulfilled?”

And finally, I’d had enough.

“Captain!” I loudly hissed. “I need to leave the Birthing Grounds! Now.”

“Alouin, I…”

With a hand in his hair, the captain roughly shook his head before turning aside.

“My people and I have a secret escape route here,” he said. “I’ll take you to it.”

When he strode off in a daze, I reluctantly followed. Tempting as an easy escape was, I wasn’t sure if I should follow this man. If he'd figured out that his foretold king had returned, he might become hostile. Over the last few months, it had happened enough in Tiro to make me cautious.

As if attuned to my suspicions, the captain said, “So, the Audish royal family has returned. What’s the heir like? Is he a monster like everyone thought he’d be?”

Snorting, I said, “Hardly.”

It was difficult to contain the chuckle that wanted to emerge, but if talking was agony for me, how would laughter feel?

When I could continue, I said, “Raimie’s everything the commoners would want from their king. He’s smart, honorable, and fair. Sure, he has flaws as well, but unlike most people, he’s aware of them. He’s a bit too modest for me, perhaps a bit too self-deprecating for the average person, but those are my only complaints about him.”

While waiting for the captain’s response, I cautiously explored my wounds. Blood was congealed into thick lines around each cut while a thin veneer coated everything else. They’d be ready for my gifted salve as soon as I’d escaped from this place.

As he led me into a cave, the captain said, “The foretelling insists that your king is destined to overthrow Doldimar, and while seer magic may have its strengths, it’s notoriously fickle at times too. It would reassure me to know if this Raimie has some semblance of a plan.”

Much as it hurt, I had to laugh at that.

“Well, a few months ago, his army destroyed Teron’s Kiraak, and he recently captured Da’kul as well,” I said. “I’m not sure what the next phase of the plan is, but my compatriots and I have been dispatched to observe and evaluate several high-value targets. I gather that Raimie will make his decision about where to attack next based on our reports.”

“I’d wondered if the rumors about the loss of so many Conscripted squads were true,” the captain said. “How strong is his army if he’s already made such progress?”

I was hesitant to answer this question, but in the end, what harm was there in sharing?

Wincing, I sourly said, “Middle’s better at the numbers, and there hasn’t been a head count since the battle at the beach. If I were to guess, though, I’d say we stand at about thirty-five hundred, not counting any soldiers that Tiro might lend us.”

Stopping short, the captain stared at me.

“Alouin above, that’s-”

“More people than your resistance has ever had?” I guessed.

The captain nodded with a funny look taking hold of his face. This soon changed to resolve.

“Tell your king that he should attack the Birthing Grounds next,” he said. “Doldimar’s leaving for the capital in the next few days. A better time for an assault won’t come again soon.”

“Ok…” I said. “I can see how seizing this place could be helpful. But how are we supposed to counter that cliff face? Getting into this pit to secure it would be a logistical nightmare!”

Maybe someone who’d been living here would have an answer to that question.

Grim-faced, the captain said, “Taking the Birthing Grounds might be a long and costly slog, but your losses would be worth it. Cut off Doldimar’s supply of Kiraak, and you’ll break his army.”

I could follow that logic but…

“How would that break the army?” I asked. “I thought Doldimar made the Kiraak. How would losing this place stop him from changing humans into monsters?”

At that, the captain laughed, long and loud.

“Really?” he gasped when he could. “You think people volunteer for that change? Ha!”

While he broke into another laughing fit, I forced myself not to roll my eyes, beyond grateful when the captain got around to explaining himself.

“Doldimar needs infrastructure to keep his Harvested populace contained until he’s finished with processing them. If destroyed or captured, he’d need time to rebuild that infrastructure.”

Oh.

“And by then, Raimie may have taken the throne,” I whispered.

“Indeed,” the captain said with a grin.

He stopped beside a narrow crevasse with a ladder leading to the cave’s celling, far above.

“Your way out,” the captain said with a wave. “There’s a hatch that’ll let you out at the top, don’t worry.”

Much as I was grateful to finally be here and done with this conversation, I still took the time to clasp the captain’s shoulder before he could leave. If I had to lean a little heavily on him, the man was gracious enough not to mention it.

“Thank you for everything,” I said. “I’ll pass your suggestion along to Raimie. Let him know he has a friendly face here-”

“Don’t!”

With his shout ringing in the cave, the captain backed away from me with his hands raised.

“I’ve done terrible things for the Dark Lord while maintaining my cover here. At this point, I’m not sure who I’ve served better: the bastard who oppresses Auden or the people trying to overthrow him. I don’t deserve to go home.

“So… so, when your king’s army comes, I won’t fight. I’ll stay with my squad in the barracks, but if someone attacks us, we’ll defend ourselves, to the last if need be. And if we’re left alone, I’ll turn myself over to your king for his justice, although if he’s as fair as you say, he won’t let us live.”

That was… harsh.

“He’s also not one to waste resources…”

But I trailed off at the captain’s stern stare.

Sighing, I said, “I’ll do as you’ve asked.”

I grabbed one of the ladder’s rungs, wondering if I could handle a long climb to the surface, but before I could get started, the captain spoke up once more.

“Can you…?”

When he fell silent, I glared over my shoulder until the captain finished his thought.

“Tell Ky that I said I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep Ibilfer safe.”

That was a task I could happily accept.

“Will do, Captain,” I say. “Stay safe now.”

Chuckling, the other man said, “Safe travels, Private.”

Hopefully, that was what I’d get.