Up till then, the commanders around the table hadn’t spared him a second glance, but at Gūla's excited cry, one of the men turned around. Unlike Nas̆ru, whose height had nearly rivaled that of the Seraphs, Turzu was not a physically imposing man. If anything, the general was a bit shorter than the average Djinn and his body leaned toward a thin, athletic build rather than bulky muscles that many of the warriors sported. His hair had greyed with age and, much to Jasper’s surprise, his horns were also near ashen in color as well, though his skin still glowed a ruddy red that indicated he had reached a reasonably high level. Do their horns grey with age, or is it some sort of mutation?

The general might not have been physically imposing, but Jasper got the distinct sense that it would be foolish to judge this book by its cover. The Djinn’s face darkened with anger as he spied the red canister Gūla was examining. “Is that what those bastards used?” he asked. Storming over to their table, Turzu came to a stop beside her, his nostrils flaring with rage.

Gūla seemed unperturbed as she answered. “Yes, sir - that’s exactly what this appears to be. Commander Yas̆peh’s men were fortunate enough to stop the saboteurs before they could start the fire.”

The general’s eyes flicked over to him. “I see your men were vigilant. Good job, Commander.”

Jasper accepted the praise half-heartedly, knowing it was more due to luck than any virtue on his part. If Tsia hadn’t been crying, they probably wouldn’t have ever seen the saboteurs. It was a chilling thought, especially when he considered the possibility that Ihra and Tsia might have died in the magically altered fire.

If the general noted his ambivalence, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, his eyes remained glued to the canister. “Has Selēmuq returned from his leave yet?”

She shook her head. “No sir, he should have been back two days ago from his visit to Ya’aqir, but I suspect the recent eruption of Har Aqullu has delayed him.”

Turzu grimaced. “Yes, I had heard of that. They say the town was mostly spared but a large chunk of the northern route was destroyed. It likely forced him to detour to the south. What about Marḫasis?”

Gūla hesitated. “I don’t know about bringing Marḫasis into the investigation, General. He’s childhood friends with one of our suspects.”

“Who?” Turzu asked.

“Nas̆ru.”

“Then I fail to see the problem,” Turzu dismissed her concerns. “I know you have your reasons for disliking the man, but surely he’s been cleared after the events of last night. His own camp was one of those nearly destroyed.”

Jasper had been content to watch in silence up till then, suspecting his input was neither wanted nor valued, but he knew he had to speak up - even if it didn’t mean admitting Gūla had been right. “Actually, sir, I think Nas̆ru might be involved.”

A thundercloud passed across the general's face. “Did I ask your opinion? I am aware of your…entanglement with Captain Gūla, but that does not make you a member of my council. Now, as I was saying, send the canister to Marḫasis. Perhaps he can figure out how it works,” he added to Gūla.

Back on Earth, Jasper would have held his peace, bit his tongue, and let the resentment fester. But now, he was not so easily cowed. The general might be a bit more powerful than him, but he sure as hell was no match for Yas̆gah.

“I'm sorry, sir, but that would be a mistake,” he interrupted the general. Though Turzu didn’t bother turning in his direction, the general's fist blurred toward Jasper’s face with an unerring aim. But Jasper had half-expected such a response and his hand intercepted the blow flawlessly. Strength strained against strength as the fist came to a stop two inches from his face, much to the general's surprise.

For a moment, the two locked eyes, and despite the obvious anger in the man's face, he saw a smidge of begrudging respect. e released the general’s hand immediately after, but his heart jumped into his throat as the metallic clank of swords sliding out of their scabbards filled the room. Gūla stood frozen as the other soldiers in the tent advanced toward him, but the general waved them off with his other hand. “Relax,” he ordered them curtly.

Turzu’s visage was inscrutable as he turned to face Jasper. “You’re quite a bit stronger than your file would indicate,” he observed.

Jasper’s blood was pumping so wildly he could practically hear it, but he managed to reply calmly. “That’s what killing a demigod does for you.”

“Oh?” Turzu raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t in your file either. Now tell, Commander Yas̆peh, what was so important that you felt the need to interrupt me? It better be good,” he added with a slight growl.

“I was skeptical of Nas̆ru’s involvement myself - Gūla can vouch for me,” he added, turning to the woman who bobbed her chin.

“It’s true. He tried to convince me Nas̆ru was innocent several times. I’m curious what changed your mind.”

“After the General summoned you,” Jasper continued. “I had the chance to have a brief conversation with Nas̆ru. With you out of the picture, Nas̆ru proved willing to talk. Mostly, I think, because it gave him another opportunity to bash you,” he added with an apologetic glance at Gūla.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Get to the point, commander,” Turzu growled.

“During the conversation, I told him that Gūla was convinced he was guilty, but I thought he was innocent.”

“What? Why?!” she hissed themselves.

Jasper raised his hands for silence. “You know, good cop-bad cop?”

The blank stares told him all he needed to know, and he explained. “I figured if he thought I was on his side, he’d let down his guard - and he did. I explained that Gūla’s skill told her he was plotting something, but that I figured it was probably something minor, like gambling, and he took the bait.”

“Nas̆ru told me that’s exactly what it was, just a gambling ring, and if he’d stopped there, maybe he would’ve tricked me. But he continued to say that he had nothing to do with the fires - and he was definitely lying.”

The general’s eyes narrowed. “How reliable is his truth spell,” he asked Gūla.

“More sensitive than most. If he says Nas̆ru was lying, I believe it.”

“Of course you do,” Turzu said with a grimace. “You’ve been focused on him from the start. Still, if the commander is correct, perhaps it's best to be cautious. Very well, I will not order you to turn the canister over to Marḫasis, but I do not want to be forced to wait until whenever Selēmuq returns. Who else has the skills needed to examine it?”

“Weelll,” she stretched the word out, “you probably won’t like this suggestion, but we could ask Sels̆arrat.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Turzu responded drily. “Is there really no one better than that Moon-kissed to ask?”

“There are other mages who have some expertise in devices like this, sir, but almost all of them are from the southern tribes. The Moon-kissed have no such ties.”

“Fine,” the general sighed grumpily. “Take the canister to her, and take the commander with you.”

“Sir,” Gūla objected, “don’t you want him to interrogate the other prisoners? His truth spell is more precise than Kas̆ūd’s-”

She fell silent as Turzu's expression visibly hardened. “Take the commander with you,” he repeated stiffly.

Jasper wasn’t keen to leave the captured mage in the general’s hands. One look at the other prisoners gave him few doubts as to the fate the man could expect, yet he knew there was no point in refusing. He wasn’t prepared to go to war with the entire army over a traitor.

He followed Gūla through the villa’s opulent halls in silence, barely noticing this time the magnificent artwork. Retrieving Dapplegrim from the guards, he waited until Gūla had saddled her tsussîm and then the two departed. They didn’t speak until they’d left the barricade behind.

“Thank you.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. “For what?”

The firebird captain shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “For speaking up. If you hadn’t persisted, Turzu would have ordered me to hand over the canister to Marḫasis. And I don’t know if he’s in on it or not, but I’d say there’s a 50/50 chance the mage is the one who made the canister in the first place.”

“Is the General always that much of an ass?”

Gūla tried to hold back her chuckle and ended up emitting an awkward snort. “I wouldn’t let him hear you call him that.”

“Or what? He’ll try to slap me? Pretty sure that didn’t work out how he imagined.”

“He must have been holding back,” she replied dismissively.

Jasper had felt the strength of the blow and seriously doubted that, but he didn't feel the need to argue.

“But he has been a bit on edge lately," she continued. "Turzu is supposed to be in charge of the army, but it’s a tough job in the best of times. The northern and southern tribes are barely speaking to each other at this point, plus, aside from the royal forces, the remainder of the army is recruited and provisioned by the nobles. Thus, they tend to view orders more as suggestions than commands. Even without the sabotage, it would be a difficult task, but now…” she shrugged. “Half the camp’s in ruin and who do you think the fingers are pointing at?”

“He’s still a dick,” Jasper repeated stubbornly. “Any chance he’s in on it,” he changed the subject abruptly.

“I don’t think so,” Gūla was not as quick to deny the possibility as he expected.

“So the thought crossed your mind,” he probed.

“Only because he’s been so resistant to the idea Nas̆ru might be guilty. But truthfully, I think it’s because of me,” she said, hanging her head.

“Is he related to Nas̆ru?”

“No, Turzu’s no relation of Nas̆ru. He’s from Appara, so he doesn’t really belong to the northern or the southern tribes - it’s one of the reasons he was appointed. But he is a distant relative of the family I was originally betrothed to. For the most part, he’s behaved professionally enough, but he’s got it in his head that, when it comes to Nas̆ru, I’m just a woman scorned. He doesn’t take me seriously."

Jasper opened his mouth to criticize him, but the words fell unspoken. I guess I kind of thought the same thing, didn’t I? “Well, I believe you now,” he offered lamely.

Gūla rolled her eyes. “Such great faith,” she replied drily. “But it’s okay. I understand why people think that.”

Feeling the weight of the awkward silence, Jasper changed the subject. “Turzu didn’t seem to like the mage you recommended either. What’s up with that?”

“Turzu is a very pious man,” she replied briefly.

“And that explains it why?” Jasper fished.

Gūla clucked her tongue. “I don’t know they expected people to believe you grew up in court. Turzu is a fanatical devotee of Lord S̆ams̆a, and like many of the pious, he views the Moon-kissed as heretics. They chose, after all, to reject the favor offered them by S̆ams̆a and change their forms to follow Lady Selene.”

“Is that a common sentiment,” he questioned.

“These days, not so much. The Moon-kissed have been around for more than a thousand years at this point, and have developed close bonds with the North and the Royal Court. Even the southern tribes don’t care any longer. You’ll mostly only encounter it around Appara and Ya’aqir, as their inhabitants are a bit more backward.”

Their conversation was interrupted as they reached the start of the Moon-kissed encampments. Unlike the other nobles, whose camps sprawled one into the next like a single, overgrown suburb of Nūr-S̆ams̆a, the Moon-kissed camps were set slightly apart - not just from the rest of the camp, but also from each other.

They dotted the tops of a dozen small hills, whose forested tops had been chopped bare. The wood had been put to swift use, as the cleaned trunks were promptly reburied in the frozen soil to form a solid log palisade.

Jasper whistled. “That’s kind of impressive, honestly, but why? Are they expecting to be attacked?”

“Probably,” Gūla agreed.

He glanced over in surprise. “Are they really that hated?”

“Not by us,” she laughed. “By themselves.”

“Oh,” he vaguely recalled what Nēs̆u had told them about Dūr-Yarha. Is the conflict between Houses really that dangerous?”

“It ebbs and flows, but the Houses have a well-earned, deeply inculcated cautiousness at this point.”

“Better safe than sorry,” he quipped.

“Something like that," she agreed.