Warm sunlight drifted in through the windows. It was a rare sight for the late winter season. But the room felt devoid of warmth as the Raven General looked ready to cut down the boy in front of her.

“And how do you know this?” asked Abby, her greying brows rose in suspicion. How could the Raven General recognize a random stranger when the others could spot no discernible features? The boy had a plain face that was easily forgotten and overlooked. The only other possible solution was a shared history.

The head maid's sixth sense tingled. The hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning.

The Raven General laughed coldly. It was clear she found no humor in the situation.

“Because I recognize him," the general didn't bother lowering her sword. "The boy was part of a dissenting faction in Wenge. A little branch that grew arrogant and tried to rebel against Fadye.” Staring piercingly at the boy, the general was blunt. “I was the one my father sent to deal with them.”

The boy flinched as if he had been physically struck. His face paled even further. The disheveled hair covered the boy’s face did little to mask their owner’s frightened expression.

Abby and Frederick gasped. The older woman’s curly gray hair only heightened the pale pallor of her face. “What… what does that mean?” The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

In her friendliness with the general, the old maid had forgotten one of her lord’s earliest warnings. In her cutlery and etiquette training, she had truly forgotten who it was that stood next to her. A warrior-hardened, general who had spilled blood and conquered the battlefield.

Falling to his knees, the boy began to sign frantically. Muttered words spilled out of his mouth. “Gen, Rae-, Raven, even, General!” He shrieked, covering his face. Dirt-encrusted nails smeared brown smudges on his cheeks. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Frederick's heart was beating like a caged bird. The servant wanted to slap himself as he drowned in his own fear. How could he have known that the boy was the general's enemy? Would it be punishment or reward that awaited him? Frederick shivered. Glancing at the general’s sharp stare, he berated himself again and again.

Passing guards stopped to check in, unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to intervene in the situation. They tried to catch Abby's eyes, but the older woman's stare was glued on the Raven General.

Amongst them all, only Faye remained unfazed. The hard look on her face was terrifying.

“What did you do, Faye?” asked Abby slowly, half-scared to know the answer. What did the ruthless barbarian chief do to traitors?

“What I had to,” amber eyes slid to meet the older woman’s. “The tribe was forced to drink a corrosive poison. An acid that could take away a person’s voice.” Her eyes hardened. “A punishment and promise that the traitors would spread no more lies and untruths against my father and the counsel. Every man, woman, and child was forced to ingest it… or face the blade.”

Seeing the fearsome look on the general’s face, they all wondered exactly how many had fallen to the blade that the young woman had cheerfully been polishing. To threaten even children…

Abby looked close to throwing up. “But that’s… it’s a barbaric punishment!” The older woman although never married, thought of her little nieces and nephews. “Why punish everyone? How could Fadye be so cruel?” To curse an entire tribe to such a fate. No wonder the boy could form no words!

Abby swallowed hard. To think his speechlessness was not a natural impediment but…

“This was not Fadye’s decree.” Faye shifted her gaze but not her stance. Finally, she lowered her the longsword. Its sheathed form returned to her side. The boy was an enemy, but not a threat. “It was my idea.”

The admission echoed hauntingly in the room.

The servants and the older maid stared at the young woman in shock. The punishment... was Faye's idea? They recoiled away when the young woman lifted her eyes to meet their gaze.

There was thinly veiled disgust and distrust in Abby’s raging eyes. “How could you force it on children!” Her eyes drifted to the kneeling boy. “They were innocent.”

“On the grasslands, the chief’s word is law. I could not,” Faye shook her head, clenching her fists. “I would not go against them.”

"You could," spit the older woman. "But you chose not to."

"Dissent is like a weed. It will continue to grow unless you root out the cause." The Raven General had a faraway look in her eyes. “That is how the Great War between the clans started. Wenge almost lost everything.” Brows pinching, the Raven General admitted, “We could not risk it happening again. On the grasslands, even children must carry the burden of their parent's flaws.”

Faye gasped when someone pushed roughly past her. Amber eyes stared curiously at the passing form.

Trying to keep her voice detached, Abby could not help it. Her heart ached as she looked at the boy. “You said he was a refugee. Why?” The older woman's booked no room for argument, only answers. “Was taking their voices not enough?”

Faye sighed, the first hints of regret coloring her face. “It was decided that their silence was only a temporary solution. The counsel sent men to burn their village. Those that escaped were deemed traitors, to be killed on sight.”

“You will not kill this boy,” snapped Abby. Her gray hair whipped around as she glared at the general. “No one is to touch a single hair on his head. Or you’ll answer to the lord himself,” the head maid's words trembled with fury, “By the gods, I swear it, Faye. If I see you even look at this child wrong...” She looked away, unable to finish her own words. "Swear it."

But the Raven General gave no indication of agreeing.

The servants and guards shifted uncomfortably. What other deeds and secrets was the general hiding? Perhaps they would never know.

Rising to her feet, Abby maintained a stoic expression. “I know of a hard life.” Her weary eyes glanced at Faye. “Perhaps you had no choice, but the cycle of fate will always rebalance things to be the way they should.”

Shoulders setting, the woman steeled herself. “Fate and the gods have brought you and your victim together once more.” Turning to a gaping Frederick, she ordered, “The boy will have a job here. And it’ll be your job to make sure he gets familiar with the land and his chores.”

Turning to Faye, the older woman jabbed at the young woman’s chest. “And you best get used to it. I don’t care what history the two of you may have, you’re in Eburean now. Not your grasslands.” Lowering her voice, she said pitying. “Perhaps this will be your chance to recompense for your sins.”

Abby had all intention of leaving the room right then and there but Faye’s low voice held her back.

“You have no right to judge me,” murmured the general.

“Oh,” laughed the older woman bitingly. “I think you’ll find I have plenty of reason to do so. Starting with the fact that my lord is married to such a-” Abby shook her head, unable to find the right term. The older woman was still reeling from the revelation of the past few minutes. “Married to you,” she decided.

Truly, that was insult enough.

Judging by Faye’s shut-off expression, the young woman understood.

Storming off, the guards and Frederick followed the head maid’s lead in quickly retreating. In their haste, they forgot the broomstick boy, who was still trembling on the ground where he had fallen to his knees.

As they treaded down the hall, Abby beckoned a guard close to her side. “Station more sentries by the lord’s room at night.”

Shocked, the guard exclaimed, “But the lord already has four men stationed there!”

Abby nodded sharply. “Very well. Add two more.”

She never should have doubted the lord. The head maid sighed as she thought of their lessons and the upcoming meeting with the queen.

The full space was silent once more. Only Faye and the boy remained in the room. Both stood so still that it looked like two statues had found their way inside the residence.

Silently, the general grabbed her sword and attached the weapon to her belt. If she wanted to finish the job…

Faye's eyes narrowed. Her sharp ears detected no other noise. The Raven General scoffed. They wanted to protect the boy and left him in her presence? Alone? Did they think the lord’s might was enough to stay her hand if she truly desired to do something?

Even Nikolai knew better than that.

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The boy peeked up, bright eyes shining under the curtain of hair. The tears had all but disappeared, leaving only the drying track marks running down his face. His lips curved.

Unbidden, Faye’s face broke out into a tiny smile. “Your acting has improved, Bian,” she complimented.

The boy’s entire body loosened in relief. Then, in a single motion, he scurried to his knees. The fear and desperation melted from him as Bian kneeled before Faye. Smiling cheekily, the boy signed rapidly, fingers flashing with their speed.

“What do you mean, I taught you? You're so old and you still blame me for everything.” Rolling her eyes, the Raven General knelt to the boy’s height. The two stared eye to eye. The general flicked the boy in the head. “How is your grandmother, Bian?”

The boy’s smile froze. Looking down, he shook his head sadly. The older woman had passed the winter before.

Instant regret filled the general’s face. Her voice was pained. “I am sorry to hear that. She… was a good woman.” And Faye meant it. The matriarch of a fractured tribe. Matriach Bianca was among the few the Raven General truly admired.

Bian nodded glumly. A thought struck him. Desperation clutched him as he struggled to form words. “Get, gener-Gi!” He shook his head in frustration. “You sa-v, save us!” Bian pointed in disgust to where Abby and the others had left. “Why no… tell?”

He frowned angrily. No one should have the right to disrespect the general. If it weren't for the mission, Bian would have pulled out his own dagger and punished the imbeciles. "Stu- stupid, wall-huggers." He puffed up like an angry kitten.

"We should be grateful they let you in so easily." Although it was a serious security issue, the matter had worked in their favor. Faye patted the other’s head, ruffling the scruffy hair. “When someone wants to view you in a certain light,” she smiled bitterly. “It is very hard to change their mind.”

The Raven General had learned it the hard way. It still stung to think of Abby’s betrayed expression. But it was no matter. The young woman brushed herself and those thoughts away.

Plus, such a story would take inquisitive eyes off of the boy. Abby had a good heart. Her sympathy would ensure that Bian lived comfortably while he was here. It was for the best.

The boy huffed. He signed a word angrily. Idiots.

Faye laughed out loud. “Ah, boy,” The Raven General wiped an amused tear from her eyes. “I have missed you, little bird.”

Little bird was more than a fond nickname, it was also an infamous moniker in the underground markets that spanned across all the lands. The little bird was a spy like no other.

Bian was the last male heir of the Belge chiefs. Despite his age, under his grandmother's guidance, the boy had already gained quite the reputation as an information gatherer. True to his name, he was like a little bird, everywhere and nowhere at once. While on campaigns in the grassland, Bian had been a helpful accomplice in gathering information on the enemy. Although Faye would never admit it, it felt nice to have an ally by her side once more.

Straightening, the Raven General adopted a serious expression. “Are you sure you wish to do this, Bian?”

Although the boy had followed her on the less dangerous battlefields and missions, they had all been on the other side of the border, within the familiarity of the grasslands. Often, they communicated through missives. For Bian to really be by her side in person... Faye sighed.

The boy did not spare a second thought before returning to his kneeled position. Reaching into his clothes, he flashed a dagger towards the Raven General. She recognized the small blade. It was the same knife, she had gifted him all those years ago. A little boy and the young general. A promise of strength as they ran from the burning village. To protect yourself, the young general had said, shooting arrows at her own clansmen to save them. It had been years, but the image was seared into Bian's memory. The Raven General had been like a warrior goddess of legends, heaven-sent to save them from doom. Bian lowered his head. His fingers tightened around the blade. Now, it was his turn to save the general.

Lifting his head, the boy signed, face serious and stiff.

There was a pause between them. The general sighed shakily. If that was the boy’s choice… so be it.

Nodding, the Raven General lifted the boy to his feet. “Very well, Bian. If that is what you wish.” She looked around, mind diving straight into business. Soon the guards and servants would return. “It may be a while until we can reconvene. Keep your head low and wits about you. Something big is coming. I can feel it.”

The boy nodded sharply. Ever since he was young, Bian had possessed the uncanny ability to disappear into the background, allowing him information and entrances into places inaccessible to others. The little bird had been assigned a mission. He would see it through till the end.

With a final bow, the boy headed off in the direction of the kitchens. There was confidence in his steps as he glided through the halls. Few would have guessed this was his first time in the residence.

Luckily, the floor plans he studied were accurate enough. But he would have to update them and report back to the general as soon as he got a better grasp of this enemy territory.

Watching him retreat silently, footsteps even quieter than hers, the Raven General’s amber eyes softened. Bian’s signed message echoed within her, filling her with a familiar warmth.

If ever the Raven calls, Belge will answer.

—

It was said that Belge was the home of those who sang songs of bluebirds and spoke the language of the wind and rain. Their ancestors were blessed by the same gods as the Wenge founders and while their main branch excelled at war, Belge was a people of music. There was a haunting beauty to their voices, which they prided above all else. Songs filled their every day. Even when they went to battle, their soldiers would hum an eery tune, bringing tears to the eyes of their enemies.

When the Belge chieftains had been caught colluding with the enemy in hopes of overtaking their older brother, the Wenge tribe, the damage had already been done. In a surprise attack, Wenge was caught unaware of the betrayal. Burying family and friends, the traitorous soldiers had been executed and a grief-stricken Wenge called for the death of Belge. Their shared history was forgotten in a night of betrayal.

Only one stood out in protest. The newly anointed Raven General, heir to Fadye and savior of the great clan.

But even the good general could not stop the sorrow and hate in the hearts of those thirsting for vengeance.

In the dark of night, the general snuck away and entered the traitor’s camp, warning them of what would befall their people. Most of their men had been executed and those that remained were sick and weak. It was a camp of the innocent and fragile. Great sorrow overtook the Belge tribe as they awaited death. Songs of sorrow filled their camp. Even the heavens were moved as a great rain overtook the grasslands for seven days and seven nights.

On the seventh night, the general returned, offering a solution. A loophole that would silence their songs but save their lives. The Belge matriarch quickly agreed.

The next day, the general stood in their father’s counsel. the Raven General spoke at great length of the principles of justice and poetry. Stirred by her words, the council agreed that the silence of traitors would speak louder than their deaths.

That night, every man, woman and child of Belge sang their last song but continued to draw breath.

They had believed it to be the end of the tragedy. Silently, they praised the good general.

With her work finished, the general left for a skirmish in the east.

But in the mighty warrior’s absence, an angry man whispered into the ears of Fadye’s wives who in turn poisoned the mind of their husband, the mighty chief of Wenge.

Unbeknownst to the Raven General, a group of bandits were hired. Their orders included a single command. And the men set out on their mission: to set fire to Belge tribe until all that was left was a mountain of ash.

The people cried for the raven general but the warrior, although god-like was only mortal.

Upon hearing the news, the Raven General soared into the camp with her men but it was too late, the tribe of voice-less singers had already caught flame. The fire and smoke twirled in the sky and reached the heavens.

But before the general retreated, a child of Belge left his hiding spot and led the warriors to a secret: a cave of silently weeping women and children. Blessing the child, the Raven General and her men fought off their pursuers and helped the survivors run. There were no witnesses left alive, but the danger remained. If word got out that the good general betrayed Fadye’s orders… But the warrior was not deterred.

The general and her men rode for three days, hiding the last remnants of the clan with merchants and foreigners where they could silently live on. To the rest of the grasslands, the Belge tribe was burnt to ash and no more. That was the fate of those who defied Wenge.

But unbeknownst to them, Belge was fractured but alive.

The Belge people did not give up easily. They rebuilt their networks and established themselves in their new homes. Littered across the lands, they soon found a craft that would aid them well, the art of listening and silence. Their weakness soon became their greatest strengths.

Soon, there were little information networks as powerful as the secret broken tribe of Belge. From secrets to assassinations, the Belge perfected silence into an art form and thrived where there once was only burnt soil.

But through this all, Belge never forgot about the warrior who had saved them, and instilled in every survivor the vow that if ever the Raven called… Belge would answer.—

Frederick glanced at the other boy. He had been cleaned and dressed in proper attire. “Say, what is your name?”

Looking up, the boy mouthed words silently. His hands flashed a few signs. But before Frederick could protest that he did not understand, the boy opened his mouth. He croaked out softly. “Bi, bian. Bi-an.”

The boy was trying to say his name! Frederick’s eyes widened in glee. “Bian?” he asked. "Your name is Bian?"

Seeing the sharp nod the other shot him, Frederick’s smile widened. “Bian!” He nudged the boy. “It’s nice to meet you officially… cousin.”

The two chuckled at the joke. Internally, Bian noted that the other servant, although a bit weird, was not the worst company.

Straightening, Frederick led the way towards the lord's private chambers. “From today, you’ll serve in the same area as I do.” He smirked and gestured proudly. “Right under the Lord of Feldgrau! Our second prince!”

To his surprise, Bian showed no sign of shock or joy, merely pure determination. Frederick laughed inside. He could already tell the boy would be a good addition to the lord’s household. Abby should be giving him a bonus for bringing in such a hard worker, Frederick thought.

Thinking of Abby, Frederick paused. He thought back to the tense discussion they had. The head maid pondered for a long time concerning where to place the boy. As far from the (scary) Lady Feldgrau was a must. But at the same time, the general tended to turn the other way whenever she caught sight of Bian. Thankfully. It would be a pity if the opposite was the case. Frederick was starting to grow fond of the boy.

Unknown to the servant, Abby had noticed this as well. Secretly, she hoped that having Bian near the lord’s side would make the general think twice if she ever decided to make good use of the weapons she seemed to constantly be practicing with. Hopefully.

Frederick turned away from Bian. Unsurprisingly, the lord’s chambers were massive. There was always much to be done and an extra hand would certainly be helpful.

“Follow me, I’ll show you the ropes. First, we always…” Frederick gestured to the different routines and parts of their expected duties. His voice droned on… a little too passionate about pulling back drapes and mopping the bathroom tiles.

Behind Frederick, the silent boy's lips quirked. Who knew the general’s story would work so well? Bian crossed his arms behind his back.

Belge may answer the call, but Bian would be the one to deliver it.