It's been a few days now since our shameful retreat began. Several days spent awkwardly running into Ana, and spent in mourning. Several more awkward breakfasts, in which I have to struggle not to stare longingly at Ana’s lips. I swear, I never see her actually eat anything, she simply joins us for breakfast. Xena and Ana have had a lot to talk about, as have Ana and Katarina oddly enough, with Ana being quite fluent in German as well as Avernian. Maybe I should learn some other languages. Maybe I should find an excuse to spend time with Xena so she might teach me one. Hopefully one that isn't part of our 'usual fare'. I'm not sure I could stand to hear her typical sweet affirmations mixed with cold logic if they were in German. It seems like a rather violent language from the outside. Not especially stimulating...

The awkward breakfasts stop when we encounter a river.

A vast, untamed river, which has no crossing that we can see. It is too deep to ford and too long to make a bridge in a timely manner... This is bad. Our strategy of baiting the Magyars can't survive delays like this, we'll be caught... There's nothing else for it, we'll simply have to pick a direction and follow the river that way, and pray we find a bridge or a ferry station or somewhere shallow enough to ford. I prepare to give the orders to the troops, we will be heading south along the river.

My heart almost sinks into my chest when I notice banners on the horizon. They are banners of the Stag's Head. And not especially many in number. They’re also rapidly approaching, faster than infantry are capable of. This is unsupported cavalry at full gallop. Not enough to threaten us, but they are still the enemy. Best to have our guard up. I give the order for the troops to get in formation, but not to open fire unless fired upon. I have a fair idea of what this is about. I walk forward to receive these 'guests', and find that chief among them is a familiar face... One who is begrudgingly carrying a white flag of truce.

"Hello again, Mademoiselle Siobhan." Even with her being on a horse and taller than me besides, I still feel high above her.

"Little Plain General Girl." Somehow the venom with which she spits these words blunts their impact entirely, it’s simply too petty. "Return my mistress to me. Immediately."

"It is not in my power to do so, Siobhan." I’m being smug, usually Antoine would be the smug one. "However I can relay your request to her, and if she wishes to return to you then she may do so under her own power."

Siobhan is glaring a hole right through me, perhaps thinking of forgoing her many firearms entirely to just strangle me with the white flag she’s holding. She instead dismounts her horse and gets on her knees, looking up at me.

"Please return my mistress to me. Immediately." She’s choking on her contrition.

I sigh, this isn't fun if she’s going to beg. "Like I said, that's her decision to make, not mine. I will not deny her my company if she wishes to maintain it-"

I feel a hand grasp my shoulder, and hear a voice which is trying its best to be as cheerful as it was when I first heard it. "Hehe, would it offend you if I felt a need to return to my duties, and a desire to return to my Siobhan? Do not consider it a personal slight against you, I simply cannot achieve my aims at your side."

"Hehe, I expected as much. I can't keep you forever." I stand aside, allowing Ana to slip past me.

She is immediately faced with an incredibly well-armed dragoon snatching her, holding her closely, then lifting her and spinning her around. "Mistress Anastasia! Mistress Anastasia!"

Siobhan’s countenance has almost completely inverted, and it becomes impossible to find any trace of the steel that usually dominates her face. She's... Giddy, like a child playing with her favorite toy. I catch the smallest glimpse of Anastasia's face, utterly mortified by her dragoon's behavior. And only more embarrassed when Siobhan puts her down, and starts doting upon her with a manic concern.

"My mistress, you must be starving! Please, allow me to-"

"I'm fine! ... I'm fine, Officer Siobhan, thank you." Anastasia is blushing intensely, she can't quite look Siobhan in the eye at the moment. "We can handle that later when we're not in polite company."

"Ah yes." Siobhan's eyes glare at me, but this is more the glare of an angry teenager than a cavalry officer of an enemy nation. "... I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude for not bringing harm to my Mistress Anastasia. But make no mistake, if you attempt to separate the two of us again, I will kill you. Without exception or hesitation. Do you understand?"

I try my very best not to laugh at this pathetic threat, and manage a nod that is almost free of mirth. If I open my mouth to speak I will bellow with laughter so speaking is out of the question. Anastasia herself casts her eyes over to me, her face silently apologetic for their subordinate's actions. And to think, Anastasia was so cool before... Would Pasche ever treat me like this?

Siobhan takes Anastasia's attention again, a mite of professionalism sneaking back into her. "Mistress, the Magyars are on the move heading after the Avernian scum- The Avernian army. We should withdraw before they arrive. Even though we were able to smooth over our little ‘friendly fire’ incident, I believe they are more than prepared to consider some payback if given the opportunity. We should leave-"

Siobhan is interrupted by an exhausted looking scout approaching on horseback, moving at such speed that he can barely stop his horse before it tramples me. "General! White Banners on the Horizon, bearing the Wolf's head!"

"We must leave. Now." Siobhan tries to grab Anastasia, to pull her away... But Anastasia slips out of Siobhan's grip, much to the dragoon's confusion.

"I'm not abandoning Serena, Siobhan. If the Magyars intend to harm her, they'll have to get through me."

Siobhan's face runs through a gauntlet of every kind of anger and defiance, before finally settling on resigned despair. It's honestly a little unsettling to witness, this dragoon is simply a completely different person in Anastasia's presence. A substantially more embarrassing one.

"I only have a regiment of cavalry with me. Even with our forces combined, we'll still be outnumbered more than two to one, and we're up against a river. If we don't leave now there will be no retreat-"

"Then there will be no retreat."

"... Yes, Mistress Anastasia."

Siobhan falls silent, her eyes silently plotting a kidnapping but the rest of her body remaining obedient. I meanwhile am remarkably confused, turning my attention to Anastasia with incredulous eyes.

"I don't think I can win this, Ana. I don't think I can keep you safe when those Magyars arrive. I don't think I can keep anyone safe... What point is there in dying for me, in everyone dying for me? If you take Pasche and Xena and the rest with you I can run a delaying action, buy you some time to escape, then you can all-"

Anastasia slaps me across the face. It stings, but somehow I feel like I’ve yearned for it. "What would the point of that be, Serena?"

"For you and Pasche and Xena and Katarina and Theophania to live- Oww!"

She slaps me again, and then turns her attention to Siobhan, ignoring me entirely. "In our flight from the mountain valley the Magyar cavalry was badly hurt in their pursuit as our Icenians bravely held them at bay. We have the advantage in that area, if our infantry can provoke opportunities and breaks in the line then you and the Avernian cavalry should be able to exploit them. Do you think you can cooperate with the Avernians on this?"

Siobhan is about to protest, before remembering something important. "The Avernian cavalry... They'd be under the purview of that vulgar woman, Pasche, right?"

I nod, still rubbing my pained cheek, and this gets a smile out of Siobhan.

"I will not be outdone! Little Plain General Girl, tell your cavalry officer to assemble her horses. We'll see who is a better servant to their mistress!"

Siobhan remounts her horse and sees to her cavalry, clearly ecstatic to play with Pasche again. Oh gods, oh hell, they are going to start kissing, aren't they? Presuming we don't all die here at any rate, which is very very unlikely... I should have shown her how I felt, shouldn't I? ... I promise, if I live, I will show her how I feel. Every single detail of how I feel.

Anastasia's face holds one final mite of embarrassment before she swallows it down and becomes dissonantly cold and logical. "... If we manage to split the Magyar lines and give the cavalry opportunities to punish over-extension, we might be able to provoke a rout. I've read your brother's dispatches, it's what he would do, I'm sure. We don't have much ground to lose here but if we can use it then we should, we can break up the enemy's formation by giving them successes in advantageous positions for us, which-"

"Why?"

"... Serena, this is no time for-"

"Why?"

"Serena, please, I am trying to-"

"You are trying to die just to share a mass grave with me, and I want to know why."

With this, Anastasia's countenance turns a little cruel... And she kisses me. It feels desperate; she’s struggling not to bite my lip.

"See to your troops, Serena Pollineux. I can't take command for you."

With that she leaves, and I am left dumbstruck in the middle of camp, hating that good and worthy people keep insisting on being killed for my sake... But as the banners appear on the horizon I know I can't ponder for long. I rush over to the troops, mercifully still in formation to face our Icenian intruders, and start giving them their orders. What was it that Anastasia said? Manipulate the Magyars by giving them victories advantageous to us? ... Seems to be the best strategy we have right now, our army is just about capable of giving the Magyars victories... I see Pasche has assembled her cavalry, and looks ready to go to war. Someone must have told her Siobhan is here, and is interested in a contest. I wonder if Siobhan gets shot even half as much as Pasche does.

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I order an advance, we'll need as much space to work with as possible if we are going to pull this off. The order flows through the army, the masses of men slowly coming to life and obeying my orders. Now I just have to decide who here is going to die first. I may have enough magic to hold either of the flanks or the center, but no more than that. Whoever I stand with is going to fight to the death, the rest are likely to break... If we break in the center, the enemy is likely to advance there quickly, hoping to overwhelm our flanks. It's the most dangerous place for us to break.

For both sides, they'll be vulnerable concentrating their forces there, and our cavalry might just have a perfect opportunity to punish them. It might just make us lose all the faster, but any plan that might let us win this is worth trying. I stick to the left wing of the army, this will only work if the flanks stay solid. The other side will just have to make do.

The soldiers holding those approaching banners are close enough that they can be made out with the naked eye. I call for the army to hold their position. Eventually they even obey the order, with the men who hear it last awkwardly shifting backward to present a cohesive line.

The army before us is enormous. Enormous isn't an adequate term, it's titanic. Forming its own horizon with glints of steel bayonets reflecting the light of the sun, the beast ahead of us is almost impossibly large to behold. All moving in formation, all armed and disciplined, and determined to crush us. My hand is shaking, I wish I had my own Serena.

I see Pasche getting her cavalry into formation, and Katarina and her Greenjackets joining the right flank of the army. I know Xena and Theophania are behind me, and Anastasia is... Somewhere in our humble army, doing something important no doubt. I swallow back my fear, I have my own Serena. It's them. It's always been them.

Our handful of cannons sing, and solid shot strikes true against the encroaching monster, maiming and tearing through some of the soldiers approaching. It doesn't even slow them, but that's to be expected. No amount of death stops these monsters, fear does. Our Lions are just as scared as I am, I wonder if they too are thinking of loved ones they must protect. I am tempted to throw my magic upon them now, but I have to save that for when the enemy is upon us. The tension will simply have to be survived. One of the soldiers breaks and attempts to run, but is struck by an ensign's baton roughly, and forced back into line. Maybe it's not love keeping them in line after all.

Another volley of cannon fire, another dozen or so Magyars are dead or maimed.

Another volley of cannon fire, it's like a clock ticking down to the moment the Wolves attack us.

Another volley of cannon fire, I want to see Lazierte again.

Another volley of cannon fire, the Magyars are within musket range.

The Lions are at least still professional soldiers, even in the most hopeless of circumstances. They hold their fire until the Magyars are in effective range. All across the line I hear the screams of officers, as the army comes to life once again.

"Present!"

"Make Ready!"

"Fire!"

For a moment, the entire world is nothing but smoke. It's hard to think that anything or anyone could possibly have survived such a volley, so many guns had fired all at once. But the volley that follows makes clear that they are still alive, and still eager to kill us all.

Hundreds of Lions fall in an instant, and the tension boils over into the screams and cries of the wounded and terrified. At least, it does until I throw my magic over them. Then my wing of the army is silent, a grim kind of bravery having consumed them. Usually they're louder than this, more boisterous, this is weird. But at least they are firing by rank, reloading their muskets, and dying without fear or complaint. I guess my magic doesn't necessarily make them happy about it.

Men fall before me in droves. It's hard to think any of them will live long enough for us to be able to bait the Magyars into our trap. But they still hold, even as each new wave of death crashing upon them hurts my heart. It brings with it yet another wave of fear, that I must take so the men are spared it. Mercifully the center of the army crumbles, and the Magyars flood the new hole in our lines. I can almost feel it, being outflanked again, being knowingly so. Some of the Magyars form lines parallel to our own, ready to fire into our side.

And then Pasche hits them.

The new lines dissolve quickly, the Wolves can’t flee fast enough to not be slaughtered by Pasche and her cavalry. Other Magyars attempting to form lines to counter Pasche are blasted by the cannons, disrupting their reformation and making them vulnerable. Pasche is soon joined by the Icenian cavalry, firing carbines into any hastily assembled formations before charging. Siobhan and Pasche's horses complement each other rather well, Pasche exploits chaos and Siobhan keeps it going. Maybe they do deserve one another... But I'm not going to let her keep Pasche all to herself.

Presuming I live through this in any case. Even as Pasche and Siobhan savage the Magyars who fell into our trap in the center, we are still outnumbered on the flanks, and the Wolves are holding strong. I can barely even see them through the powder smoke, but I can see the soldiers under my direct command die with each new booming volley. It doesn't look good... And then I hear cannons again, out of our timing.

The man next to me is soon beheaded by a giant lead ball, and the Lions are savaged and maimed by solid shot. The Wolves have set up their cannons, and clearly have a lot more of them than we do. There is a mighty cheer across the field, and the sound of thunderous footfalls approaching our position. They're charging, they're going to wipe us out entirely... It's hopeless, isn't it? Even the very best we could have done is not enough to survive this.

We ravaged their center, we held for so long, but reality has finally come to take us to hell. The Lions fire one last volley, try their best to brace themselves, and are pushed apart by the sheer weight of the Magyar Monster. The moment we fall, these men will be able to tear our cavalry apart.

I draw my sword, I will buy Pasche every second that I can.

Approaching me first is a decorated sergeant. I pull out my gun and shoot him dispassionately, he'll earn no medals here. The next appears to be a middle aged man with graying hair, whose uniform is somewhat more elaborate, a colonel perhaps? He stops charging right before me and gives a fencing salute... He wants a fair fight?

It'd only be fair if my heart wasn't being shared with hundreds of shell-shocked survivors right now. I sigh, and let the magic go. No one is going to be fleeing now, so what good does it do to make me useless in a fight? I return the fencing salute and take up the stance my brother taught me. This man’s stance is a little sloppy, but he looks eager. So eager in fact he draws his own pistol and shoots a Magyar regular who attempts to bayonet me from behind. A very messed up kind of honor, but I suppose I can reward it with a clean death.

He makes the first swing, one too strong for me to parry but one easily dodged. My brother moved past such openings over fifty duels ago, this man is behind on his studies, or on his practice. He tries to hit me on the backswing, a slightly pathetic effort, one which even I can deflect. This puts his arm in a rather awkward position, but I notice now that the Magyar soldiers around us are standing around and watching, maintaining the sanctity of this little duel. Some of them are cheering... I think Xena said the troopers spoke Carpathian? It's all so far away now.

I push him away, giving him the chance to regain his form. If I win this duel I'll be mobbed to death by the soldiers around and as long as it goes on, I'm at least tying these soldiers down. It seems a strange bit of sport for these Magyars to engage in, but when you're winning you can do as you like.

The Colonel charges at me again, there is a perfect opportunity to skewer him before he can bring his sword down upon me. I dodge, and punish his swing by pushing him backwards again. I almost feel sorry for the man, I'm more educating him than fighting him. A slash across my chest comes next, easily parried and punished with a push kick to his gut. He's panting now...

Am I going to exhaust him to death before he manages to kill me? Somewhere far away cannons fire again, but I can't hear their impact anywhere. Odd.

He stabs at me this time, and when it is easily deflected he stabs again and again and again. His form is getting even sloppier as he is exhausted, and eventually I take my opportunity. I grab his wrist and pull him forward onto the ground, him landing roughly on his front. He turns around to face me, and feels the tip of my sword on his chest. Just a little bit of effort would be enough to kill him. I remove my sword. The dance must continue.

Except the man does not get up. He simply smiles at me, and says something in a language I do not understand. The soldiers around us look confused, they don't seem to understand how their colonel could possibly have lost. One of them makes ready with their musket, ready to fire on me, but another shout from the colonel prompts a fellow trooper to slap that man on the back of the head, and he sheepishly returns the gun to his side...

There's music approaching. Why is there music approaching? Flutes and fifes, not instruments that the Avernian army uses. What's happening here? The colonel quickly scrambles to his feet, preparing to leave in a hurry, but before he does, he offers me his hand. I sheathe my sword and take it, shaking it respectfully. Circumstances notwithstanding, this was honestly a little vindicating. I don't usually get to have a proper fencing match with anyone other than my brother.

The colonel and his troops quickly withdraw, leaving me alone amongst the powder smoke in a field of meat that was once an army... Am I the only one left alive? ... It's so cruel a prospect to contemplate and yet it is inescapable, and fills me with unbridled horror, and before I know it I am screaming.

"Someone?! Anyone?! Please tell me I am not alone!"

My terrified screams are answered by hoofbeats, from two directions. And the first to arrive is cavalry from the Magyar lines, but as they get close I see the Lion’s head banner among them. And at the head of them is my brother, looking upon me with not quite enough concern.

"Is something the matter, sis?"

The powder clears, and only then does he notice the blanket of corpses around me, so thick and complete that I cannot see even an inch of the field below us. I want to scream all over again, Antoine has come to the rescue... Just in time to only save me.

The second set of hoofbeats is Pasche approaching with her mauled cavalry regiment. She looks haggard and bloody, and her skin is white as a sheet. Even so she practically jumps off her horse to join me on the ground, almost tripping on a corpse on impact. She holds me tightly, not to comfort me but in need of comfort. She's hurt badly this time and it shows. Yet she is alive. I weep for joy and hold her as tightly as I am able. If she wasn't still wearing her cuirass, I might have squeezed her to death.

Soon Xena and Katarina filter in, accompanied by a few dozen Leather priests, some of whom are missing limbs or clutching bullet wounds. I can already tell these are the last survivors of Katarina's former battalion of cannibals. Still, they are alive, and they are smiling. Theophania approaches on horseback as well, carrying a notepad and a pencil and writing furiously... Her writing ceases as she realizes where she's found me, and she stashes her journalistic equipment in her saddlebag before dismounting her horse and joining me... Everyone's here, everyone I love has managed to make it through- Wait.

"Where's Anastasia?"

Katarina of all people approaches and hands me a letter, before joining the big group hug. In contrast to her previous letter to me, this one is scrawled hastily, and is short.

"I will see you again."

I take the letter and stash it in my jacket, awkwardly as I am still being held by Pasche and Theophania. Eventually Xena pulls Pasche away from me, she has to see to the poor girl’s wounds. And Theophania withdraws from me, looking over me awkwardly, guilty for having put her arms around me. I immediately miss them. I don’t want to be alone here.

My brother dismounts his horse and gives me a salute, along with a very pleased smile. “Sis, that was utterly perfect! I could not have planned this action better, we’ve broken the best that the Magyar Empire has to offer! And we couldn’t have done it without you, sis! We’ve won-”

I slap him. I stare at my hand, what have I just done?

“... Sis? What was that for?!”

“... Brother…” He was celebrating our victory, our amazing victory, but… “Lazierte is dead.”

“I… That’s horrible! I am so sorry, sis. I can’t believe the Magyars-”

“You insisted she accompany me into that valley. You came up with this plan to split our forces to outflank the Magyars… This is your fault, brother! You… You killed Lazierte!” I’m screaming, everyone is staring at me but I can’t stop screaming. “I loved her, and you killed her!”

I collapse to my knees again, I’m weeping inconsolably. Antoine doesn’t seem to have moved, utterly shocked by my accusation and not being able to fully process it. He loved her too, didn’t he? … Theophania gingerly approaches me, and I roughly grab and hold her close to me as I cry… I feel Xena slip something into my mouth, and seeing as I am utterly abnormal I swallow immediately.

I am asleep in an instant, only held up by Theophania’s embrace.