Chapter 39

It is a matter of perspective

Cities State Alliance, Bebard

"So... I think there's a lot you want to talk to me about." Antilene took a seat on one of the leather chairs that adorned the study. The soft feel of the fabric caressed her skin, bringing relaxation to her aching muscles. "Perhaps you could begin by explaining why there was not the slightest mention in your welcome letter of the pleasant company I found myself sharing your attention with."

Kista remained standing, her gaze trying to escape that question, her attention focusing first on one of the others present, then on a shelf, then on another piece of furniture, as if those inanimate objects might have given her the solution to her problems. "Their visit came sooner than expected. I am sorry to have let such a spectacle be your greeting card." The woman finally sat down at the desk on the left side of the room. Rows of documents were placed in maniacally ordered bundles. "I did not think it would be possible for your visits to coincide, but between what one hopes and what actually happens there is always an unfortunate difference." She bit her lip, with such intensity that it seemed to be on the verge of coming off.

"It is how we react to these errors in our calculations that defines the kind of people we are," Antilene assumed a composed air, preventing her overly comfortable figure from coming across as irreverent. "Why don't you explain the current situation from the beginning, so that I can understand what your worries are? And offer a helping hand, if necessary. "

"Lady Kista. Are you sure you want to share sensitive information with what is, after all, a mere stranger?" Intervened Hatoi, doubtful. Like his companion Grape, the dwarf had followed his mistress, not leaving her alone for a second, as if to make up for lost time outside. With the exception of an elderly waiter who brought various drinks for refreshment, they were the only members of the mayoress' escort. "We don't even know if we can trust her. In fact, she may very well be interested in pivoting on our weakness to gain an advantage to our detriment."

Sensible reasoning. Antilene was pleased to see that there was no shortage of people who were comfortable expressing their thoughts. Nevertheless...

"I am currently only here on a personal whim. Other than my word, I can give you no guarantee that what Messer Dwarf accuses me of is false. If you should make such a request, I will take my entourage sitting down and remove myself from the Union territory as soon as possible." There was no uncertainty in her voice, nor annoyance. The half-elf clucked her tongue and cast a glance at Melody who sat beside her, intent on drinking some kind of strange wine, warning her to prepare to leave at any moment. "But," she continued, returning to focus on Kista. "If there's one thing I can't stand," the tone became more serious, solemn almost, with an inflection that if it wasn't furious, sounded at least irritated, "it's beasts who wear fine robes and precious jewels just for the sake of being called human. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that cattle should not mix with respectable people."

"I think... I think we can trust Queen Antilene." Grape stood up to show confidence, an imposingness that was indeed alien to him. "She who defeated the tyrant must absolutely be an exceptional person and worthy of respect! We have been given a magnificent gift in receiving her help. If we refused it, this would only make us fools!" One alone showed the praise of ten. A magnificent demonstration of the power of fame! "I mean... Mine is only the humble opinion of an ignorant guard," he fiddled with his fingers, enthusiasm replaced by more common meekness. It was inevitable that the fire that burned so fiercely would be extinguished just as quickly. "But I think it is in our best interest to follow the advice of such a heroine."

"Well done for managing to impose on yourself for a good ten seconds, boy," Hatoi passed a hand over his shoulder, as if to say 'well done'. There were subtexts not fully made explicit between the two of them. A surrogate parental figure? After all, the dark elf had said he had lost his own father. Even if that bizarre dwarf didn't quite fill the role of loving parent. "If I didn't know you, I could almost believe I was in the presence of Judge Nomoi, I say." He smoothed his hairless chin with swift strokes.

Antilene had never seen dwarves in person before, only in old coloured guides illustrating the various races for the Theocracy's military corps, but the total absence of hair not only on the face, but also on the rest of the visible body of the little guard left her dumbfounded. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it was at the same time an image that until that moment her mind had cultivated with hard work, and which was now being swept away with astounding ease.

Kista sighed, expelling so much air from her body that Antilene had the impression that the woman's spirit had also fled away, in search of peace that it could not find in that prison of flesh and bone. "I don't think I have many alternatives at the moment. Lady Antilene, may I trust in your discretion? If the other cities were to learn of the ease with which we share our affairs, they would certainly not take it well." Relations between the Union members had a few cracks in them, it seemed. Was it a vestige of an ancient past or a new state of affairs dictated by the inauspicious events that plagued them?

"You have my word," sacred oath with right hand over heart, in the manner of the temple of light. For the followers of the Six, a promise that would take precedence over life itself. To laymen, a foolish gesture devoid of meaning. Into which category did the mayoress fall?

"Well, may I trust you then." The second? "Knowing that you have taken a sacred oath by your faith puts me more at ease." No, the first. A pleasant surprise. "What do you know of our current situation?" Kista asked, continuing to tidy up the desk. Pens, pencils and papers were arranged with millimetric precision in an arrangement that must have been a source of comfort to their owner.

"I've only heard a few bits of news scattered here and there," replied the half-elf, careful not to reveal too much. They both knew where what she knew came from, but it was appropriate to keep up appearances. "Of course, your war with the Great Plains is common knowledge even to us outsiders. But besides the title by which your enemy calls himself, The Equestrian King, if I am not mistaken, what I am aware of is sparse and confusing. For example, totally obscure to me are the causes from which this conflict originates."

Of course, there was only one cause. Beneath the refinements and philosophies of war there was always a common denominator. The rest was enrichment posed as mirrors for the larks. Make-up, precious clothes and jewelry might make an individual more glamorous, but what lay underneath remained the same, no matter how hard they tried.

"The official reason is a territorial dispute. According to the Great Plains Nation, what is now much of the Union's territory once belonged to the old empire that controlled much of the east." The mayoress herself recited those notions mechanically, a performance she did not believe in but had repeated so many times that it now seemed almost natural. "For years the lands of the centaurs were divided into petty internal conflicts and under the control of various warlords, so that these proclamations were just empty words in the wind. At least until a decade ago, when their current ruler took power."

"And now that they no longer have internal problems, they are ready to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs." Something already seen. Chaos and then order that needed to be maintained. How else but by creating conflict with the outside. "Just out of curiosity, is there any evidence to back up their statements?"

"Much of the documents of the time were destroyed during the conflict with the Evil Deities. All that's left from that time is this," Kista pulled out a small, bound booklet from the desk's scullery, handing it to the half-elf.

"What is it about?" Antilene inquired, leafing through it slowly. Various articles were repeated again and again, causing her a great headache just glimpsing them.

"It is a replica of the Mother Law of the Union. One of the cornerstones of our alliance, written and ratified by the founding fathers at the dawn of the defeat of the Evil Deities." Indeed, it recalled some of the texts the half-elf had already glimpsed listlessly during her time in the Theocracy, though the writing style was less concise and orderly than those to which she was accustomed. Baroque and full of digressions, it seemed more like a literal text than a legislative one. "It is the minimum content to which every city must hold itself. As long as the rules stated there are adhered to, each of our cities is allowed to govern itself. If you read the introduction, you will see that the preface speaks of an enlightened age of union and cooperation followed by one of darkness and division, advocating a return to the former and abandonment of the latter."

"And the former would also be the age to which the Equestrian King would like to return. Cooperation and union. Under his leadership, of course." Far too generous. A ruler willing to do anything for the welfare of all. And all was such a broad definition that for sure included himself.

"So we believe. But as you too can see, the claims are weak, to put it mildly." The woman raised her head, with an unnatural sense of peace, perhaps because she had accepted the current situation. "Not that it makes much difference. First you make sure you can make a law effective, then you worry about writing it. When the conquest is over, the reasons will appear far more convincing."

"Bullshit, I say," Hatoi most of all was still burning with the desire to fight. The marks under his eyes emitted a dull light as the dwarf asserted his objections. "Even if that were true, these are matters that go back more than two centuries. These are our lands now, not those malformed horses. If they think they can act like masters and take what is ours, we will respond with iron, I say."

Grape raised his arm in support. Perhaps that was not the right way to put it. He raised it up to the height of his long ears, then left it hanging in midair questioningly.

"You know I feel the same way as you Hatoi. The prospect of coming under their rule does not make me any happier than it makes you," Kista found herself agreeing, her lips curving slightly in a dejected expression. "But our military strength is currently lacking to be able to continue resisting their assaults."

"Is the disparity between your forces really that great?" Antilene was used to the common human experience, where each race became predatory by virtue of the mere physical advantages they had. But in the Union, humans were only one of several species that made up the social fabric. "Or were there other problems that caused difficulties?"

"The Union army has no definite hierarchy," the mayoress began to explain, carefully calibrating her words. There was doubt in her about what she was saying, one part divided by a trust that wanted to be well placed, another that could not keep skepticism quiet. Being reluctant to share sensitive information was quite normal. Antilene would have been offended if the opposite had happened. "Currently, Prince Alexander of Karnassus is the one who leads our military forces. But that does not mean that the other generals are always inclined to listen to his orders, as he is the only human in the chain of command. Besides..." the woman paused, drumming her fingers on the wood of the desk. Small chimes, slower and slower, drilled into the half-elf's ears. "I can't find the best way to explain it..."

"Is something bothering you?" Antilene was used to demonstrations of uncertainty, especially when people were talking to her. There was a time when she would have externalized her disturbance, but she made an effort to be more understanding. "If I may ask, why did you specifically choose the Prince of Karnassus as your general-in-chief? Is there any particular reason? Or is it mere custom?"

"For the same reason that any government with any salt in its noggin chooses a commander," Hatoi blurted out, one hand hastily tousling his short silver hair. "Results. Of the several pitched battles we had with the centaurs, only one resulted in a victory, and Prince Alexander was in command. By the skin of his teeth, I say. But still a victory."

"Unfortunately, that was over a year ago," Kista added, letting herself sink further into the chair, as if expecting to be absorbed into the wood. "He managed to train the grip on our necks, but not to stop it completely. The most pessimistic would say it has done nothing but prolong our agony."

It was not difficult to see which category the mayoress of Bebard fell into.

The dwarf nimbly moved his small legs to find himself a few paces away from the half-elf, their gazes touching. "Now, a small victory in a war counts for nothing, if subsequent conflicts have resulted in defeat after defeat, I say."

"And what state is this Prince currently in?" Melody's question was fitting. Although Antilene already had a clear idea in her mind.

"No one knows," Grape lowered his head despondently. The tips of his ears also seemed to follow the motion of the main part. "Karnassus was besieged a few months ago. It held out for a long time, but finally succumbed just a couple of weeks before your arrival." A dull light could be glimpsed in his green eyes, giving his gray connotation an even more depressing mood. If he still harbored hopes for the Prince's possible survival, these were rapidly going downhill.

"And since then these 'peace talks' with the other cities have begun. If you can call negotiations the rapacious wings of a vulture swooping down on an enemy carcass." Hatoi snorted with as much breath as he had in his body. Honestly, an impressive amount for such a small physique. "If they were not so attached to the ground they tread, I would swear our enemies were harpies, I say."

"If the Prince was so important to your strategy, why did no one go to help him during the siege?" A figure pulling the soldiers along was essential, leaving aside any doubts about his actual abilities. Antilene refused to believe that possible disagreements could have led to such a poor choice on the part of the remaining Union generals.

"It wasn't that we didn't want to. What was lacking was resources. The number of our soldiers is definitely less when compared to our opponents." The mayor shrugged a lock of hair that fell back on her forehead with a peremptory hand gesture. "And now all that's left is for us to try and patch a ship with hundreds of holes in it, as the water has invaded the hold and the crew begin to abandon it." There was still a shred of determination underneath all that desperation. But so deep that almost eluded the eye.

In short, the classic case of dwarf versus giant. Had she had to evaluate the situation, Antilene could have described it with one word: impossible.

Fortunately, she was an expert at making the impossible possible. Someone would have called it her talent.

"And what are your plans for the future? Yours and all the other members of the alliance, I mean." Now all that remained was to study the further twists and turns of the story, to determine what the best plan of action for the future might be.

"In a week's time there will be a council meeting in Great Wythes, where each of the cities' spokesmen will make their case for the future. Well, Your Highness can imagine what the most common opinion is at the moment." Surrender when one was still able to fight. Was that a decision to condemn or to praise? Antilene leaned towards the former, but she wasn't so sure. After all, she had never really needed to make such a choice. "Would you like me to summarize the main points of each argument for you? Every leader has different opinions, born of their experience against the Great Plains." The mayoress quickly scribbled, perhaps too quickly, a couple of notes on a sheet of paper.

"Thank you. I'll read it later, now would just confuse me further than necessary," Antilene handed it to Melody, who in turn slipped it carefully into her bag. "I think the time for chit-chat is over," she said, getting up from the chair. The half-elf had the feeling that she had been in that place for ages. "At the moment only one thing interests me to know. Lady Cabelia, what are your intentions? To fight or to lay down your arms? Depending on what you will say, I too will know what my future will be."

"Humpf," Kista smiled in a manner that left no other doubt. "If they want our lands, they will have to work hard for them. This was the beloved city of my ancestors, founded before my grandfather's grandfather was even born. No matter if we have to fight alone, we will not surrender!" The woman also followed Antilene's example, rising from her chair. She had recovered a little of her vitality, and was finally showing the pride of a great leader.

"Well said," Hatoi shared that enthusiasm, restraining himself from unsheathing one of the sharp axes he carried at his side. "Do not worry, Lady Cabelia. This dwarf is ready to follow the traditions of his people and erect a new mountain for the Great Artisans. Made of horse bodies, this time, I say."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant," Melody commented, intimidated. The prospect of war was not supposed to be appealing to her. Was it for Antilene not to share that sentiment?

But bizarre costumes aside, the half-elf was undoubtedly happy with what she heard. "Perfect. Then I will be inclined to lend you my help."

Grape brightened at those words. "With the tyrant slayer at our side, not even the Equestrian King could be a problem." Then, turning to his mistress with unusual confidence, he proclaimed, "My Lady! Hope lives once more. We will not have to abandon our homes or break our bonds!"

"So be it. And if we must perish, that we may do so wield swords, not flags of surrender," an unexpected warrior spirit. Was Kista hiding some surprise or was it a mere shadow the woman projected to convince herself before others? "Lady Antilene," the woman's dark irises began to glow with new vitality, a rekindled flame that had never left, it just needed a little spark. "I have been an indecent hostess. Let me treat you and your attendants to dinner. I cannot guarantee you a sumptuous feast such as you will surely be accustomed to, but I will certainly be able to satiate your hunger and rest your limbs."

"I accept with much pleasure. After a long journey, it would be nice to get something under the teeth other than the usual rations," it was since she had left the Empire that Antilene had not tasted anything other than the rations Jircniv had given her before leaving. Excellent for sure, but even the most sumptuous of dishes gets boring if eaten over and over again. "Let me go and call the remaining members of my group left in the inn."

"There will be no need. Grape will arrange for them to be summoned right away."

The dark elf stepped forward, already about to embark on what in his mind was sure to be a feat worth remembering. Some were content with little.

"Let me accompany him," said Melody. Voice soft and gaze low, eyes begging to be of service. "I would not feel comfortable knowing I was not performing a duty that would normally fall to me."

"Sure, go ahead." The maid brightened, a precious gift would not have made her as joyful. Antilene was only glad she could finally enjoy a moment of rest. Alone. "Private Grape, I entrust you with my adorable attendant. Can I trust you?"

The dark elf became the crimson elf. "I will place my sword at Lady Melody's service," and he gripped the long spear. Well, he was almost there. "And my life!" He added with all too much conviction. A simple yes would have sufficed.

"I am sure that should you come across a legendary evil creature or a powerful undead sorcerer in the middle of the town square, Melody will be safe under your protection."

"Yes, ma'am!" Not a trace of uncertainty. Absolute seriousness in a pose that desperately tried to appear proud. Commendable, in a way.

"There was some phrase in that sarcasm, I say," commented Hatoi, when the two elves had left the room. "The slayer of tyrants is also the slayer of comedy?" The dwarf shot his arrow, though unbowed.

The half-elf shrugged, cashing in on the blow. "I have been blessed with at least one of these two qualities. I will leave it to you to discover which one."A minimum of mystery had to be maintained if one wanted to remain charming. Those who revealed all their tricks in an instant were condemned to a life of platitudes. "That is, unless you want to gratify your curiosity right now."

The dwarf prepared to fight. Was it him as an individual who irritated her, or was there some truth to those rumors of rivalry between elves and dwarves? Antilene had always thought them baseless nonsense, but it was still true that before today she had never had the pleasure -or displeasure- of meeting one. Certainly not the most pleasant way to reconnect with her non-human heritage. Not that she actually intended to, of course.

"Hatoi, why don't you take your leave?" Kista's question had the answer implied. "Your shift is long over. You don't want to worry your husband, do you?" Heaven Gods, who could have married such a gruff man? Should that union have been a blessing for the dwarf, or a curse for such an unfortunate... dwarf? Or another race?

Antilene had shortly ascertained that both marriages between different races and between members of the same sex were permitted in the Union. But what about both members of different species and of the same sex at the same time?

Bizarre. It was amazing how a nation so close could also be so culturally distant. Perhaps some zealous preachers were right. The further away one got from the Gods... the more unnatural things became.

"I just wanted to wait for someone else to arrive before you were left alone, My Lady. If anything should happen to you while I was relaxing..." unexpected kindness and apprehension buried beneath a bark that did not always appear as tough as it wanted to be. "And with the staff down to the bone, I don't feel like leaving you with strangers, I say."

Indeed, now that she paid attention, Antilene noticed how few servants she had come across in the municipal building. There were provincial churches in the Theocracy with more personnel at hand.

"Now that Lady Antilene is with me, you have nothing to worry about," the mayor cast her a look in search of complicity. The half-elf replied with a nod. "I know how much you care about doing your job to the utmost, Hatoi. But if you were to be exhausted, there would be little you could do in a sudden dangerous situation."

The dwarf snorted, but accepted defeat. "Please," he pleaded, addressing Antilene, "do not let anything bad happen to my lady. I owe her everything."

"As long as she's in my company, she'll be in a barrel," the half-elf reassured him, raising her thumb confidently. From the way she was looked at by the other two that position did not look as she had pictured it in her mind. But it was too late to change. She had no choice but to pull straight to the end. Curse Rufus and his stories about the habits of the Gods. Wasn't that the pose that reassured even the most scattered minds?

Never could she have thought her father capable of making fun of her.

Nevertheless, Hatoi finally cracked a smile. "I can leave without any worries in this case, I say." To be honest, it was not the way she would have preferred to alleviate the hostilities, but at least it was a start.

When the dwarf was gone, only the two women remained in the room.

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"If I may take you into my confidence, you are not as I had imagined, Lady Antilene."

"I hear that from many."

Kista rubbed the muscles of her forehead, the weariness on her face evident. "It will not be easy to convince the other members of the Union to continue the war." She settled a red shawl over her shoulders, which undoubtedly made her look graceful. "You will have to persuade many different people, each with different ways of thinking. I do not know what your oratorical skills are, but even after all my years as a diplomat I would be in trouble."

"Don't worry. My oratorical skills are absolutely disastrous." The mayor looked at her questioningly, perhaps thinking she had not heard correctly. Unfortunately, heroines who excelled at everything existed only in fables. "But there will be no need to speak."

"And what are you going to do?"

"A demonstration."

Aunt Nazaire used to say, "If you want to make a good omelet, you have to break a few eggs."

Antilene wondered if she would be able to compare to her old nanny.

South of the Slaine Theocracy, Tel-Hoorusan

The day began with a prayer, as always.

Some might have called it boring. Aeneas preferred to define it as a habit. Repeating the same gestures, the same words every morning, day after day gave him a feeling of control, a way to reduce the unpredictability in his life. It reminded the young captain of the Black Scripture that there were things in life that it was possible to lead, to command.

And so, in the small, dark room, where the dawn light had not yet given its warmth, in one of the rare moments when one could feel the sweet and above all rare desert breeze, Aeneas went over the sermons and litanies, the songs and invocations he had been taught since he had memories. In a low voice, so that no one could hear him. Not that there was anyone who could. His quarters were secluded in the eastern wing of the palace, once a bustle of life judging by the many furnishings that still decorated the flats. Now only grim corridors where noises were distant memories.

"Captain, may I come in?" There was a knock at the door. A faint but firm voice made its way through the religious silence. Aeneas did not even realize how much time had passed, immersed in that ritual.

"Just a moment." He dressed quickly. Wearing armor in the impending sultriness would have been a foolhardy choice. But letting that sacred relic be left at the mercy of anyone would have been even worse. Not that he didn't trust the men of the Theocracy. Not that he didn't trust his comrades. Not that he didn't trust anyone in particular.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting." Aeneas opened the door. Quaiesse was standing in front of him, waiting unconcernedly. He was not alone. Two furballs, similar to common striped cats but with longer claws and two tails wagging boredly, looked at the young captain as one looked at a prey to munch on slowly. They reminded him of something, but he could not say what. Where the hell Quaiesse had found them, he didn't even want to know.

"It's not a problem. We're way ahead of schedule. Besides, like you, I'm not itching to get to our tasks." Aeneas had remained quiet, but it was evident that his eyes had spoken far too much. "The heroes of humanity reduced to babysitting a bored, sassy girl. There is something ironic about this. A macabre joke, which I, however, cannot understand." If Quaiesse had been allowed, he would have huffed with conviction, starting to rattle off the chain of infinitives of his grievances just to make the point. But, fortunately, the Quintia heir could not do that. When they train you from an early age to be perfect, you can almost convince yourself it's true.

"The preparations are almost over. It's not long until the agreed date before the clash against the Sword Saint." Aeneas would have liked some more information, but the Tel-Hoorusan princess was not of many words. Not with him, at least. "If I'm honest," and he hardly ever was, "I don't mind this quietness. There are few opportunities we are given to rest. Take it as an unscheduled holiday." And the Gods only knew how much they needed it. How much he needed it. If for once he didn't have to spend days in abandoned forests or dark caves, where every being that dwelt there would try to kill them, eat them, torture them or worse, he certainly wouldn't be the one to complain about it.

"I suppose that's one way to look at it. I don't share it, but I understand it." One of the non-cats began rubbing on Quaiesse's leg, getting an affectionate cuddle as a reward, filled with love and affection that the fifth seat rarely showed to friends, let alone strangers. If the creature had started walking on two legs and talking, not even its corpse would have remained intact for that affront. "What are the plans for today? You haven't had breakfast yet, have you? Do you want to keep me company or would you rather join your little princess, like the other days?"

"What I want doesn't matter," though he would have much preferred the opposite. There were those who could choose and those who could not. He fell into the latter. "General Bulgari has given me the duty of protecting her and I intend to do so." If he could also get some information out of it, so much the better.

Quaiesse laughed slightly. "But who will protect you from her? I heard that the first time you tried to eat at the same table, she threw a plate at you as a welcoming gesture."

"Absurd stories without foundation. Apart from absolute silence, I received nothing from Princess Shaimaa." Whether she had then wanted to make those rumors reality was quite another matter. "Try to put yourself in her shoes. Half of her population is captive, the other half is under the rule of a foreign power. From several sides. I don't know if in her place I could have shown the same firmness of spirit." Certainly, he could have shown less contempt.

"Understanding is never to be condemned. But remember..." Quaiesse's face became grave and unexpectedly serious. "Being indulgent at the decisive moment could prove fatal." The eyes became even more scarlet, resembling small, bloodshot moons. The calm timbre of his voice, however, remained unchanged. "One must not confuse pity with carelessness. Knives can hide everywhere. It is therefore good to remain alert," he said, placing special emphasis on those last words.

"You have nothing to worry about. As long as there are trusted comrades to have my back and give me support, I will take no risks." He would have liked to add something else. An inspiring commander's speech, a leader's speech! But nothing came to mind. "By the way, how are Cassandra and Rinaldo? We don't know when we will have to leave, so it would be good if they are ready at all times."

Aeneas had not seen the two for days now. He knew they were certainly doing better than he was, but it was still his job as their captain to keep himself informed. Besides, anything was better than silence. He was getting so used to it that he felt like going mad sometimes.

"Cassandra is helping the operational reconnaissance teams. She seems to be making herself at home." Fancy way of saying she had already taken command. Oracle was like that. Aeneas did not envy her new subordinates. "Rinaldo on the other hand," the Fifth Seat continued, overthinking. "I think he's giving the priests a helping hand. Mainly with treatment and disease monitoring, but if I'm not mistaken he also told me he helps with confessions once in a while."

A responsibility not usually entrusted to the paladins, but when there was a shortage of personnel they made do with the few means available.

"It's been a long time since my last confession." The last time was more than a few months earlier, if he remembered correctly. Time always passed far too quickly for his liking. "What about you, Quaiesse?"

His companion, unlike him, did not appear too troubled. "I have no idea. It must have been six months ago? Maybe seven? When we get home, I won't miss the opportunities." Quaiesse shrugged the question off as easily as one shakes off a speck of dust. "The Cardinals are already far too busy, and I do not find it appropriate to disturb them on such frivolous matters." Obviously, a lower-level prelate would not have been fit for the task.

"You are right," Aeneas found himself agreeing. But part of him had to admit that he wouldn't mind finding someone to confide in. Not that all Cardinals were on the same level. Berenice was far too understanding. Dominic too inquisitorial. Zenedine too philosophical. Yvon and Maximilian too distant.

But Raymond... Perhaps it was because as an old member of the Black Scriptures he had felt the same doubts that Aeneas sometimes heard whispered in the darkness of his thoughts, but had found in him more than once a suitable listener.

By the Gods, perhaps he was just too soft. He could not continue to appear meek in that cloying way, or everyone would start calling him names like 'little lamb' or the 'spineless warrior'. In him ran the blood of the Six, so it was necessary to prove to the world that the cardinal virtues had found a worthy successor. If not for others, at least for himself.

"We have arrived." Quaiesse stopped in front of their prisoner's door. It was evident that the man compared to an army would not have entered there even for all the gold in the world. With the roles reversed, Aeneas would probably have done the same. "I will be aiding General Bulgari's lieutenants, should you need anything."

"Thank you. Should you be the one to seek my help instead, please do not seek me out." They laughed together at the joke, said a quick goodbye, and then finally parted. Quaiesse's figure was long gone before Aeneas decided to knock on the door. A single firm touch was enough.

"Captain Aeneas. It is an honor to welcome you, as always." A demi-human with feline features greeted him with as much deference as possible. Before entering, she handed him a bowl of water, which the young captain used to refresh himself. It was amazing how just a few minutes' walk was enough to make him drenched in sweat. Desert life, with that asphyxiating heat that clung to his body and would never let go, was not at all in his line. "My mistress awaits you. She has decided to wait for your arrival before starting with breakfast."

Unusual. Not that it was entirely unwelcome though. "I thank you..." Aeneas tried to remember the handmaiden's name. Showing friendliness to her would perhaps also soften her mistress. "... Silmi." He prayed that Alah Alaf would listen to his pleas.

The demi-human's black eyes widened, taken aback by what must have been a simple display of decency, but was evidently not so obvious. The whiskers on her feline muzzle swayed gently in contentment. The stoic expression she had was replaced by a more relaxed and friendly one. The lips joined in a subtle smile. The tail sticking out of the tunic could not hold back a satisfied rustle.

Aeneas felt nothing.

"Come," she led him to a table near the terrace of the room, from where it was possible to see the whole city.

Shaimaaa looked outwards, in total silence. If they had surrounded her with the frame of a painting, it would have been the perfect image of an artistic work. 'The lady waiting for her beloved' or 'the princess locked in the tower'. "Good morning, Captain Aeneas." She broke that tranquility when she saw him coming, with a smile so bright that could blind. "Please take a seat."

On the princess's lap was the same animal with feline features that Aeneas had seen earlier. That was who Quaiesse's pets reminded him of. Shaimaaa stroked hers gently, getting a few purrs of recognition, while the animal was not even aware of his existence.

"Good morning to you, princess," the young man returned the greeting as he took his position. In front of him, the table was set with exotic fruits and buttered bread. He grabbed a carafe and poured reddish juice into his and the woman's glasses.

"Very kind," Shaimaaa's attention was divided between him and the window, "I hope you had a pleasant night."

"I'm still not used to the heat." A dry reply.

The woman grabbed a piece of fig, to eat it slowly, her small brown eyes now focused on him. "I guess it's hard for you northerners to get used to it. Although I think wearing more suitable clothes might help." And she made no secret that she found the armor Aeneas wore in that moment rather bizarre.

"What I wear is a sacred legacy, enchanted with the magic of a lost time. No matter the temperature, it makes my body impervious to any change in climate." He opted for a piece of bread, accompanied by apricot jam. "It is when I am forced to take it off to sleep that I feel this suffocating heat."

"Why not sleep with it then?" An apparently sensible question.

"It would be unbecoming," but it was such only to those ignorant of the Scriptures. "Only when I am on mission, in the performance of my sacred duties am I allowed to wear it. To do so at a different time would be an outrage." There was no anger in his words, nor any other negative emotion. It was a simple statement of fact.

"And you are on a mission now?"

"Certainly."

"You are..." She was on the verge of saying something unflattering, he was sure. "Particular." A more diplomatic reply came instead.

"Maybe I am, or maybe you are." Or maybe they both were. "This morning I find you more talkative than usual." Not that he had preferred the quiet of the past few days. "Is something perhaps troubling you?"

"It would be strange if there wasn't." A laugh with a bitter aftertaste. A warm wind moved her long dark hair, enclosed in thick braids. "May I make a request, from the bottom of my heart?"

Aeneas' experience with the fairer sex was limited to his sisters and companions. The former, seen from too far away. The latter, observed from too close. Shaimaaa fell into the first group, but perhaps she was trying to get into the second?

"Sure." He mentally prepared himself to reject it.

"Let me take a tour of the city." All too predictable. Indeed, it was unusual that that request had come so late. It was expected days ago. "I want to see how my citizens are getting used to the occupation. And hear their demands in case of trouble. Locked up here, like a bird in a gilded cage, I feel magnificently useless."

Impossible. "Impossible." Thought and word, strangely enough, agreed. Aeneas was ready for the scene that was sure to come.

"Why?" That barely whispered question made him feel like the worst of scavengers.

"General Bulgari has given me orders to protect you. And it would not be so easy for me to do so in a place unknown to me, where the crowd could hide you from my sight at any moment."

"Who should harm me?"

"That is for you to tell me." Was he finally going to get some answers?

"The only ones who can cause me harm are you."

Each individual handled anger in their own way, it was something Aeneas had learned to notice. Knowing when the opponent was beginning to lose patience was part of the Black Scripture training.

But Shaimaa was indecipherable. She continued to watch him impassively, without externalizing that whirlwind of emotions he was sure was now dominating her. Strange. Was it all an act or was he the one who wasn't as good as he thought?

"If we had wanted to kill you or otherwise procure you harm, we would have done so already." A sad truth they were both aware of. "Even if I wanted to comply with your request, I would not have the authority to do so." That morning, Aeneas was particularly hungry, so he allowed himself a second piece of bread. "Of course, things might be different if you were more... helpful."

Shaimaaa did not touch food. She must have been indisposed.

"I am willing to tell you anything you wish to know."

"Not only that." Neither of them was a merchant. Haggling was not their speciality. So why bother? "You will also have to push your people to be more cooperative. Now, and when the time comes."

The princess bit her lip nervously. "If I comply," she hesitated, at last. "Do you promise that my subjects will not be endangered?"

"The Theocracy has as its main mission the salvation and prosperity of the Diarchy. What we do is only for the flourishing of mankind." Of the remaining races, it was not for him to decide. Although he had an idea about that.

"Selmi's husband is in prison," at those words the handmaiden, who had remained aloof until that instant, gasped. Concerns stained her face. "And like him, countless other non-humans. How can I trust your words?"

Aeneas could not understand that apprehension. Sometimes he had the impression that there was a wall preventing them from communicating, no matter how hard he tried.

"Our prisoners are treated with the utmost consideration." The one accorded to non-humans, anyway. "So? If you accept my terms, I will arrange to speak with the General to fulfill your wish."

"Do I have a choice?" She asked, continuing to caress her pet. The little cat was indifferent to the struggles of its owner, resting blissfully on her lap.

"We all do. But it is not easy to live with." Who was he referring to? "Especially when there may be consequences from them for those we care about."

Shaimaaa sighed, the same slender bequest of breath the captain had heard countless times when honoring the Gods by fulfilling his sacred mission.

"I accept."

Now it was up to him to smile, but unlike hers, his grin did not appear insincere.

"Be ready in an hour. It will just be the two of us." Better to avoid any accomplices acting as bait for her to escape. "And be sure to make yourself unrecognizable."

Aeneas didn't even wait for a reply that he was already outside the room.

Convincing General Bulgari would have been all too easy.

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"Captain Aeneas, you look different." Aeneas could have said the same about her. Much of the princess' face was covered by a veil that left only her forehead and eyes uncovered, the hazel color of these altered to a clear teal. A color that suited her, he found himself admitting reluctantly. "Maybe it's because I haven't been paying attention to you these days. In fact, I gave you very little attention," did she really need to specify? "With that long face you look like a malnourished horse."

"I don't think I heard you right." Different traditions had different speech patterns. It was easy to be fooled by a misconception.

"Really? I thought I spoke out loud."

The deference from before was gone. Having gotten what she wanted, or perhaps because she realized she had nothing left to lose, Shaimaaa had shown her true face. Or perhaps her mask. With many people, it was hard to tell them apart.

"Have you decided to make this walk of ours as unpleasant as possible?"

They started to walk away from the palace, to take their discussion to the streets. Shaimaaa moved her eyes from corner to corner, inspecting men and women, buildings and squares without delay. Hers was the diligence of a mother checking that the fancy suit her son wore for the marriage meeting did not have a single piece of cloth out of place, combined with the toughness of a sergeant making sure that the uniform did not have even the slightest sign of wear. Aeneas had tasted both of those things, and couldn't decide which was worse.

"A lady must enjoy herself, especially after whole days spent bored." She shrugged, freed of a burden that had long since enslaved her. Tirelessly. Indomitable. Proud. Why did he think that about her? "Of course, if it bothers you, we can return to my quarters. However, I do not need to specify that our agreement from before would be invalid in that case."

Even though he could not see her mouth, Aeneas had not the slightest doubt that a smile of mockery and victory was on her lips.

"I suppose I can't complain." He thought victory was his just before, but had to reconsider. Only twice in his life had the Black Scripture Captain not achieved absolutely perfect victories. And both times it had been because of women. Could it be that the Gods were trying to tell him something? "To answer your curiosity from earlier," in situations like this, the only sensible thing to do was to accept defeat and move on, convincing yourself that you would not make the same mistake again. ''Every member of my unit has certain magic items at their disposal that can significantly alter their features. The earrings I'm wearing right now," he pointed to two small golden beads dangling from his earlobes, "cast a small illusion spell, which makes it harder for passers-by to remember my face."

"Ohhh," an exclamation of surprise. The magical tools the Theocracy was equipped with were among the best in the world! No wonder he had made an impression. "Yes, yes, it all makes sense." Muttered Shaimaaa, with the same satisfaction as a scholar who has managed to solve a problem that had been plaguing him for a long time. "Perhaps I had misjudged you people from the Theocracy. To prevent your faces from being etched in others' memories, how generous of you!"

"A trivial insult." Worthy of a child.

She took it as a compliment, her nose rising slightly under the veil. "When they take away your swords, you have no choice but to fight with your claws. When they chop off your hands, you're left with nothing but kicks. When they cut off your legs, you are left with nothing but words."

"My people have done none of these things to you." Except the first one, perhaps. Totally justified, though. Treating enemies well is wise, treating them too well is idiotic. "I have seen far too many times how prisoners of war have been treated. Believe me when I tell you that the treatment meted out to your people is far better than they could have received anywhere else."

The benevolence of his nation also lay in this. Recognising that there was nothing dishonorable in defeat and that it was still possible to start again. In friendship, this time. The citizens of Tel-Hoorusan had been given this wonderful opportunity. Would they be able to seize it?

Shaimaaa stopped a few steps away from the entrance to a small square. "Are you so sure?" At one time that spot had certainly been a vibrant marketplace of life and hope. "Look at all this! What do you see?" Now, however, the remnants of battle, ruthless in their indifference, left little room for dreams, except those of incurable romantics who could still see something in that rubble. And Aeneas liked to think he was one of them.

"Future," he replied bluntly. "Certainly much pain and suffering has touched this place. But in this lies the potential of humanity. It is sad, but to build one must first destroy."

"It's funny," but in Shaimaaa's tone there was not the slightest trace of amusement. "How can two human beings see the same thing and have two completely different perspectives?" She walked towards the center of the square. A few guards from the security corps noticed her, but did not give her more than a second glance. "This was once a place where different cultures and races came to meet and exchange ideas and dreams. Where differences lost their meaning. You speak to me of reconstruction," a few fallen stones on one of the still recognisable stalls were moved with a firm hand motion, the sand and dust sliding into her sleeves. "But here I see only a past that will never return."

"Yes," they strangely agreed. But probably not for the same reason. "For what will replace it will be far better, but only if your people want it. If you want it." He offered her help, expecting a refusal. But it did not come. "I understand your point of view. You are afraid that what you cherish may disappear. Believe me, it is a feeling I live with every day. We humans are fragile, so fragile that a gust of wind is enough to take us away. For this reason, we must work together. For us, and for those to come."

It was amazing how much expressiveness Shaimaaa's face communicated with just that tiny part of her face uncovered. "I am no fool," her eyelids opened and closed, as if lulled by the sultriness. "I am aware of what you can offer me. I know that if I were to accept your hand, prosperity would come knocking at my door. But how can I do that, knowing that only a few of my subjects will know happiness?"

The same guards from before conversed amiably with some locals, all human. The princess watched with relief but it was clear from the slant of her gaze that part of her was directed not at them, but at the other races, or at least the members who did not march in the dungeons, who were careful not to be seen in public, as their presence hidden in the oxen of the surrounding houses was clearly visible.

"You cannot win without us. The Golden King is marching, and will soon reach Musaaid Al-Lodi. When the time comes, you must convince the Diarchy to follow our orders." He did not wish to be cruel to her, but hiding the truth would have been even more ruthless. At least this way, it gave her time to prepare for what was to happen. "You can save some, or let all perish."

"A heartless choice." They resumed their path, wandering into the darkest alleys of the city, where the sunlight seemed too afraid to enter. "The price of my position, I guess." Whenever they encountered someone in need of help, Shaimaaa stopped to listen, regardless of the feasibility of possible help. All the requests and lamentations were recorded on a scroll she had brought with her. "No one prepared me for this. When my parents and brothers died, I found myself alone."

"It is impossible to prepare oneself for all the hardships that are to come," something Aeneas knew all too well. "I am sorry for your family." Perhaps he had come across as too awkward, but his condolences were sincere. "Was it a long time ago?"

"More than ten years have passed. I was just a child at the time." There was... acceptance. If she had felt sorrow for the loss, that had long since been processed.

"How did it happen?"

"A dragon." A single word that held countless meanings. "The Diarchy was once much greater. But then... we managed to repel our assailant, but the losses were high."

"I'm sorry." Aeneas didn't know what else to say.

"There is no need. No one could have changed things anyway." Aeneas had slain seven adult dragons since he had assumed his position, but he preferred to remain silent. "I... understand what the Theocracy professes. I really understand it." They were back in the main street. Sweat now covered most of Aeneas' skin. "For that very reason, I cannot accept it. Silmi and the others took care of me when I needed it. How could I not repay them? We humans are not the only fragile beings in this world."

"Perhaps not. But would you really be willing to risk it? The future of the humans that live here? That live in the Theocracy and other parts of the world?"

Shaimaaa thought for a while before answering. "Yes." And she added no more.

The sun's rays became more intense. The time had come to return. Aeneas escorted Shaimaa back to her rooms. He would have expected protests, but instead the princess was strangely cooperative.

"I will fulfill my debt," she said, just before they took their leave. By the time they had returned to the palace once again the camouflage was useless, and both had returned to their natural appearance. Hazel was a more suited color for her eyes, after all. "I will give you all the information you require. Send whoever you want when you see it fit."

"Will do," Aeneas paused on the doorframe, uncertain. "I will make sure your handmaid's husband is in good condition."

Shaimaaa thanked him with a tired smile. "I expect you tomorrow, Captain." The door closed behind her, almost soundlessly. "Don't let me wait." Was the last feeble sound he heard.

Aeneas turned, his gaze still lost on her, and returned to his quarters. With his surprise Quaiesse was there, waiting for him.

"I heard from the General that you went for a little walk today." The morning's felines no longer accompanied him, but on the other hand a little bird that resembled a strange cross between eagle and hawk was perched on his right shoulder. "Was it fun?" The bird pecked some food from his hand, while Quaiesse watched him boredly.

"It could have been worse," Aeneas replied without giving it much thought. "Who's your new friend?"

"I haven't given him a name yet," for a moment, the animal's large eyes focused on Aeneas in a puzzled look, except to quickly return to focusing on the food as he wasn't even there. Maybe animals just didn't like him. "He is a desert eagle. There's not much information on this little guy's species, so I'm trying to conduct some experiments to see if he might be useful to us in the future."

"Did you also conduct experiments on the cats this morning?"

"Oh those? No, they are just simple pets. Totally useless, unless one is feeling lonely. In that case, they easily attach themselves to their owners, and are a mood booster. But their abilities stop there." He arched his eyebrows. "Are you lonely, Captain?"

"I'm fine. No need to worry."

Quaiesse reacted with that usual smug expression of his, somewhere between a earnest smile and mockery.

"Well, I didn't come here for mere pleasantries." Aeneas had not doubted that for even a fraction of a second. "It's time. Our friends in Musaaid have told us the date of the fated fight." He paused, like the announcer of a show who wants to gauge the reaction of the audience. "One week exactly. Are you ready?"

"I am." Was he? Facing that Sword Saint should have been interesting. Maybe he could learn some new tricks, and if his opponent was a human, convince him to join the Theocracy.

He was sure that battle would dispel all his uncertainties.

"I'll be off then," Quaiesse took a few steps, before stopping so close for Aeneas to feel his breath. Even far from home, in a hostile place and away from the usual comforts, it was absolutely spotless and fresh as a newly bloomed rose. "Ah, Captain. I need not remind you, but once this war with the Golden King is over, you are aware of what is required of you, are you not?"

"Yes." How could he forget? "If Princess Shaimaaa El-Aziz has second thoughts about the policies to be adopted for the project of cooperation," she would not, "to ensure the supremacy of the human race in this region," it was by now already assured, "and for the eternal prosperity of the Theocracy of Slaine," for centuries and centuries, "I will kill her." Amen.

His companion patted his arm, the timbre of his voice unusually friendly and sympathetic. "We cannot afford another disaster like Re-Estize. Orders are orders." They always were. "My heart aches. But when you bring filth into the house, you have to expect someone to clean it up sooner or later. And to be grateful for that is common decency."

There was no need to say more. Aeneas could finally return to his room, to begin the preparations.

The day ended with a prayer, as always.

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