I blanched as Roxina prowled toward me. She raised her twin scimitars—one vertical, one horizontal—and, her lip curling dangerously, tensed her shoulders.

If she wasn’t about to kill me, I might have taken a moment to appreciate the sheer grace of her movements, the precision of each muscle twitch, and the ease with which she seemed to glide across the floor. She was an experienced fighter, and it showed.

Not a single movement was wasted. With that coming at me, all I could do was stagger back, the emptiness of my stomach rivalled only by the racing of my thoughts.

Was this how it ended? Not with a bang, but the most pathetic of whimpers? There was still so much I had to learn about this world, so much left I could do. Together with the experts of Larheim, I’d started on the path toward progress—did it have to stop here?

Hana. Shia. Cannara. Duke Kalvin. All around, they lay on the floor, some stirring, but mostly out of the picture. They couldn’t save me, and I’d no longer be able to help them.

Each of them had carved a mark into my heart that would never come out, and now, that heart would cease its beating. The engravings would cease their movements. A tumult of emotions swirled in my gut, from fury to terror to pure despair, and a single urge overtook me.

I wanted to cry.

Flipping one of the swords, Roxina proffered the hilt to me.

“Take it,” she said, her tone thick with sultry command.

I blinked. “You… what?”

“The light of Ezraoui, and my own honour, command I not slice an unarmed opponent.” She jammed the hilt forward, insisting.

Squinting, I edged my hand upward, but stopped. I’d heard that name enough times now to make an educated guess, so maybe I could use theology to stall her.

It was a better option than certain death.

“Your god of war,” I said, breathless, “talks about shit like ‘light’ and ‘honour’? Do you really see any of that in watching the blood pour from your enemy’s neck while they die? In the cries of people too wounded to even think straight? In the screams of children who’ve lost their parents?

“There is no honour in war. Only death and despair.” I snarled, surprising myself, and she returned with a flat stare.

“I don’t make the rules,” she said. “I just follow them. Now, take it and fight me!”

Rubbernecking, I surveyed my companions. Hana had risen to all fours, and Duke Kalvin was struggling up. Cannara twitched, her shoulder bleeding profusely, but the other two were down for the count.

I crossed my arms, my heart battering my ribcage. “I refuse.”

“What?” she asked, incredulous.

“You heard me,” I replied. “You won’t fight me if I’m unarmed? Then I just won’t arm myself. Try and fight me now, bitch.”

Her eye twitched. “Bitch? A weakling like you dares call me a bitch?” She tossed her blades away and cracked her knuckles. “I never said I couldn’t fight you, only that I couldn’t slice you. While I’d rather feel the pleasure of rending your flesh, I doubt I need to.

“Why don’t I show you who the real bitch is?”

She punched me in the gut.

I retched, the pain exploding through my torso enough to blind me, and dropped to all fours. How could one person hit so hard?

A throaty chuckle drifted into my ears.

“Honestly,” she said, “I’d rather torment one like you slowly, hear your screams and your begging for mercy, so this way fits better.”

A boot planted itself in my cheek, and my neck cracked as my head snapped sideways, a tooth flying out my mouth. The taste of copper flooded my tongue as I slumped down.

Come on, guys! I’d paved the way, made things easier on them, so for the love of all the gods I didn’t believe in, help me!

She stomped on my head, grinding my face into the floor. With a giggle, she pressed harder, and I felt the bones cracking. After a second, I heard them.

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Then I heard a yelp, and the pressure subsided.

I raised my head glacially to find Hana standing in front of me. Panting, she brandished her longsword, facing down Roxina with a determined glare. Roxina clicked her tongue.

Behind her, the man-mountain that was Duke Kalvin struggled to his feet, growling. He too brandished his weapon, pincering the warrior between them.

“Oh my,” she said, grinning. “Have I been manipulated?”

They descended on her in a flash.

Their two swords clashed into each other as Roxina danced aside, her grin growing wider. She lashed out, kicking Duke Kalvin in the leg before elbowing Hana in the temple. Both staggered away.

I clambered up, agony lancing through my entire body, but I had to ignore it. I had to help them any way I could.

A few feet away, I spotted a discarded bow, a quiver attached to a corpse next to it. I’d never fired one before, but how hard could it be?

Edging over, I picked it up, almost passing out from the pain of bending over. Then—after a moment of wondering what went where—I nocked the arrow.

Pulling the string back was no joke, and my muscles strained to manage, but I did it. I aimed at Roxina.

She was a blur of movement, weaving between Hana and Duke Kalvin’s strikes like they came in slow-motion. The pair were visibly frustrated, bruises and welts appearing all over them.

I needed a moment. Just one moment where she was still, and I could put an end to it.

I waited.

And waited.

There. As Hana ducked away from a blow, and Duke Kalvin reset himself, I fired.

A colossal sting erupted from my fingers. Blood flowed freely, and I realised I’d skinned them.

My ammunition clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Roxina turned to me. “I see you’ve armed yourself after all…”

I swallowed my stomach. She surged at me, lowering her hand to retrieve a discarded scimitar between us.

It slid away.

Smirking, Shia—still prone—held her arm aloft, almost catching the weapon but instead grunting when it collided with a hearty thunk!

Roxina gawked, then Cannara struck.

Her expression halfway between a snarl and a grimace, she rose from behind the warrior and plunged a dagger into her shoulder.

Howling, Roxina whipped around, aiming a roundhouse at her cheek. Cannara managed to duck underneath, slashing at her torso, and scored a thin line across her abdomen, despite Roxina’s step backward.

Duke Kalvin grabbed her arms from behind, wrestling her. Roxina refused to succumb, struggling and writhing against the elf’s superior strength, but when Hana joined in, it was too much, and they pulled her to the ground.

Dog-piling atop her, they all relaxed, if only slightly.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I strode over, staring deep into Roxina’s defiant amber eyes.

“Let me guess,” I said, “you want an honourable death, right?”

She growled. “Yes. I’ve lost, so the only conclusion is—”

“Sorry,” I said, exhaling, “no dice. Tell me, where in this stupidly gaudy manor is Duke Ribera?”

“You think I’ll betray him?” she said, snorting. “Because of my Prince’s patronage, I’ve been able to experience all kinds of battles, and wet my blade with all kinds of blood. There is no way in the Pits I could throw away what I owe him for that.”

“I see.” Her defiance was expected, but it hadn’t hurt to ask. I turned to Cannara, who gripped her wounded shoulder and glared at the fallen enemy. “Cannara, did you find him?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she replied, hissing. “But I found the next best thing.”

***

After tying Roxina up with woven hemp rope, we entrusted her to the waking Captain Maxwell. He’d taken a hard blow, but was lucid, and didn’t show a sign of concussion, at least to my untrained eye.

It was a risk to leave him alone, but I figured if a group of Aleister loyalists happened upon them, seeing Roxina bound in apparent defeat to him would dent their morale. She was supposed to be their ace, after all.

I wanted to leave Shia, too, but she insisted on accompanying us, supported by her father’s broad shoulder as they both limped on.

They shared soft smiles, but Shia still looked unsure. A near-death experience did wonders for bonding, but baby steps, I supposed.

We tracked up the stairs after Cannara, who led us down a wide corridor into the depths of the manor, leaving a trail of blood spatter behind us. Hana was covered in bruises, but seemed to have avoided the worst of Roxina’s sword strikes.

Duke Kalvin had more cuts on his face to add to the already extensive collection, and his jacket hung open, torn, displaying a gaping wound across his ribs. He ignored it, though.

“Relas,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “are you sure you’re all right?”

“It’s merely a flesh wound,” he replied. “Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

I shrugged, still unsure but willing to trust his judgement, then Cannara stopped before an innocuous wooden door carved from something expensive. I could smell the gloss.

Pushing it open, she forced her way into a lavish sitting room full of plush armchairs and small round tables, a few bookcases lining the walls. A crystal chandelier—smaller than the one in the foyer, but still large—hung from the ceiling.

In a chair facing the door, a woman stared at me, her wrinkled face pale. She held the poise of a highborn lady, straight-backed and refusing to quiver, despite her obvious fear.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone rigid and tense, “I had thought you’d be coming. Please be assured, my sons have already been evacuated, despite my husband’s orders.”

I furrowed my brow. Aleister’s family hadn’t been high on my list of priorities, but now I thought about it, couldn’t legitimate heirs be a danger to my rule over Ribera?

“To defy a Prince,” said Hana, “you disagree with his actions? Or did your love for your children overshadow your loyalty to him?”

“Loyalty?” She gave a derisive laugh. “My only loyalty is to myself, my children, and the power and wealth Aleister gave me. Alas, it seems he can no longer offer anything.

“With that in mind, I have an offer for you.”