That castle looked smaller on the map I found it on. Much, much smaller.

In person, its walls reach higher than any building in Kerska and look almost long enough to form their own gray horizon. And upon each of the walls, upon the ramparts, upon the keep of the castle itself is that damned Magyar standard, flying the wolf's head proudly for all to see. The irony of a castle built to stop the Magyar expansion into Western La'an being occupied by the Empire's troops is not lost on me, I would laugh if it wasn't my job to assault the thing.

On the bright side, Malmo has managed to do his one job right. There is a ring around the city, preventing resupply and cutting off communications. His forces have even seized some supply convoys, they’re all eating well. Still, the castle garrison aren’t motivated to sally out and break the siege... They must be confident they can last until reinforcement arrives. Or maybe they just think we'll run out of food before they do.

Either way, this castle isn't going to be taken by eating Magyar supplies and standing around. We are going to have to assault these walls... And we are going to have to lose people. And once again, I am going to have to convince Malmo of something. I make my way to his command tent with Pasche by my side and Xena following behind, less because I invited her to come along and more because I couldn't stop her. She wants to see the inside of an Avernian command tent for some reason, and that’s that.

The inside of said tent contains a surprising number of chests full of looted Magyar treasure, along with a happily dining Malmo... A formerly happily dining Malmo. "Ah, General Pollineux and... Company. You have a habit of coming in right when I'm having dinner."

Xena takes one look at Malmo and whispers gently into Pasche's ear, just a little too loud to not be heard by all. "Boring."

Which Malmo takes obvious exception to, even if he can’t let it slip into his words. "... So, what brings you to my tent, Serena? If you want a meal, we have plenty of traditional Magyar dishes. The Pelmeni are simply to die for. Or raid a convoy for in this instance."

I can't help but think that in a sane world this man wouldn't be a general, he would be a food critic. "I wanted to know what preparations had been made towards an assault on the castle."

The man looks back down to his food, he always knew this line of inquiry was coming and he clearly doesn't much care for it. "... Is our supply road secure? Will we be able to receive reinforcements?"

I wince, thinking back to just how clean the manor house was after whatever Xena did to it. "Theoretically yes, we have occupied the manor house and left a garrison. It's well fortified against assault and should be able to keep the road open. Are we expecting reinforcements?"

"I've sent one of my publicists to Alesia to sing the praises of two brave generals who, when their backs were against the wall, bravely charged forward to take the fight to The Coalition. The public will eat it up, we'll be voted more troops by the end of next month."

"You have a publicist?!"

Pasche raises an eyebrow, apparently having her own questions. "... You have more than one?"

Malmo cocks his head, acting as if someone asked him if he had between one and three eyes. "You don't?"

This conversation could have gone on forever, mercifully however I remember the important question raised by Malmo. "... End of next month?"

"The Convention still has to vote on things, Serena. And then needs to find a way to fund things, find new recruits, march them here… Be patient-"

"We have no idea where the rest of the Coalition forces are!"

"As I understand it, the Coalition's forces aren't as... Coalesced as it might appear on the outside. They likely won't come to the aid of the Magyars."

"What if there are other Magyar armies?! We're eating their supplies as we speak, they have to know that something is happening here!"

"And how long would it take them to mobilize a force?"

"Less than a month and a half! They don't vote on things, they do them!"

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"What a barbaric way of doing things... Very Woolly of them."

"I'm not here to discuss politics, I'm here to discuss realities. And the reality is that we can't wait for reinforcements on this one, we need to take this castle now."

"Because of the mere possibility that there might be Magyar armies out there that we don't know about?"

"... Have you sent scouts? Spies? You have at least two publicists, do you have anyone gathering intelligence?"

"... I have three publicists, and admittedly I have not. We only finished the siege camp yesterday, and today we've been raiding Magyar supply convoys."

"Did you take any prisoners? Anyone we can interrogate?"

"I don't know anyone who can speak Magyar... And only a handful of them survived the sacrifices to Steel, and none of them entirely intact."

I am about to slam my head on the big map on the desk, but Xena interrupts me by saying something in a language I do not understand. And then another language I do not understand. And then another language I do not understand. And then-

General Malmo cuts her off, not nearly as excited by this development as he should be. "You speak Magyar?"

Xena pinches the bridge of her nose, as if explaining basic mathematics to a toddler. "There is no language called 'Magyar', the officers and nobility tend to speak Dacian, the troopers tend to speak Carpathian, and the conscripts speak a number of Slavic dialects. Their Empire is something of a mess, it must be said. Mercifully, I speak both Dacian and Carpathian, and have a grasp on most of the Slavic sublanguages."

"Exactly! ..." I make a mental note to remember that spiel, as Xena steps over and flicks my forehead for daring to pretend I already knew that. "So, we have someone who can speak to those prisoners!"

"Then go speak to them... They're in the medical tent. I'd hurry if I were you, that handful got some nasty injuries during their sacrifices… I’m not sure they’ll live long."

"I'll leave you to your meal, Malmo."

"I appreciate that... Serena."

... There’s a sincerity there that takes me off guard. I’m beginning to think that if Malmo genuinely loves anything upon the surface of Lutice, it is a fine meal with no interruptions.

Still, I take my officer and my apparent translator over to the medical tent, taking a deep breath and preparing for screams. But it is not as cacophonous as I expected, and I soon realize most of the beds are empty. There really weren't many survivors from the sacrifices...

They always seem like cruel things, sacrifices to Steel. When neither side is particularly skilled or otherwise advantaged, typically both sides kill each other, and no one goes free. Steel is fast becoming my least favorite God... Well, second least favorite, after Wool and his trolls.

Still, there are prisoners who are still serviceably alive, attended to by a pair of tired-looking priestesses of Cotton, changing bandages and applying disinfectant and trying not to yawn. Thankfully we’ll be giving them a break by taking these prisoners off their hands. We approach, the priestesses salute, and Xena utterly ignores them on her way to speak to the prisoners. I silently mouth a 'sorry' to the two tired girls, Xena has a way of making ignoring someone feel sharp as a knife and twice as lethal.

... I feel tired, being in this room. I suppose it makes sense, there's been a lot of marching lately and a lot of stress. Maybe it would do me some good to get some proper, actual rest. Still, this is a hospital, surely it’d be against protocol for a healthy person to sleep here. I turn to ask Pasche's opinion, but she's already taken a bed and fallen asleep, armor and everything. She looks so peaceful like that, even before one of the priestesses grabs a blanket and throws it over the poor girl. I join her soon after for just a short nap, while Xena interrogates the Magyars in a language I will probably never understand.

One of the priestesses looks at me quizzically, clearly confused by my actions. "... There are plenty of beds, surely you could have one all your own."

I don't answer, I’m simply too tired. And while she isn't Lazierte, Pasche did look and feel rather similar... I did miss this, more than I missed home, more than I missed my brother.

Almost as much as I miss Her Majesty.