As I sat astride one of the horses that the expedition had provided for the officers of our budding delegation, there was a bit of an internal battle unfolding in my mind.

  Or rather, my Lattices.

  While I had to stay focused on our surroundings, as our group saddled and geared up, my Core and Middle Lattices were locked in the debate that had been troubling us ever since the meeting had concluded.

  Was I…losing my humanity?

  In practice, it had already long since gone. Not only was I a ‘Precursor’, something that, for all I’d learned, still didn’t have a true definition. But I had been cursed into something else. Rhazal’s last parting ‘gift’ to me, from when I had dispatched the Calamity with the help of the Great Spirits, had changed me. I barely looked Human at all these days between my scarified scale patches, my pointed ears, and slit eyes, I looked more like a stereotypical demon than I did a man.

  But, for all of my physical deformities…I had still considered myself Human.

  A Human wouldn’t be so quick to jump into battle, though. A Human wouldn’t have been downright eager to spill the blood of other people, for daring to attack us unprovoked. A Human had restraint and could recognize a difference between the time for dialogue and the time for bloodshed.

  Someone so quick to jump to violence wasn’t a Human. They were little better than an animal.

  A beast.

  And I had to be better than a feral animal, quick to lash out their enemies. The entire point of the Polaris Reach had been to establish a Martial Order that was meant to be better than the old.

  An order that was meant help people.

  And. Not. To. Hurt. Them.

  This entire expedition had been founded upon the hope that we could help all of the people of Vereden. That we could free them from the horrors of the Skyfall.

  Olgar, for as subtly belligerent as he had been to me, and even with the possibility that he had organized this ambush against my people…didn’t deserve that. At the very least, I could negotiate with the strangely tattooed Dwarf.

  But then, if he had deliberately assaulted us, and was uninterested in negotiating the release of our people he had captured. Then, and only then, would it be appropriate for me to unleash Hell upon the Dwarf. Not because I was afraid of battle or bloodshed, and not because I was reluctant to dole out vengeance where it was appropriate.

  But because the world needed more men and women of restraint than it did beasts.

  As I cinched the last strap on the palomino I’d been gifted for the purposes of the negotiation, I had trouble meeting the eyes of those around me. It was…good that I had realized these things.

  I was still ashamed, though, that I had been only minutes away from leading my soldiers into a battle that…might not have been needed.

  Before I could continue with my private recriminations, I felt a strong metallic hand clamp down on my right shoulder from behind. In moments, I had been spun around to face the owner, only to be pulled down to their level.

  Sylvia’s lips brushed against mine in a surprisingly delicate kiss, in stark contrast to how she had approached me. We lingered like that, there in the midst of the horses, for several more moments before the Sculpted woman pulled away. I was so stunned by the gesture that I could only blink at her in confusion when she did so.

  Sylvia merely smiled at me and laid one cool hand on my cheek in answer. “Stop thinking about it,” She said bluntly. Her words caused a wry, self-deprecating smile to creep onto my face at just how easily my partner had pegged me. In response, she lightly patted my cheek before removing her hand. “What is it you always say? ‘You’re not perfect’? Nathan, it’s fine. The point of meetings is to arrive at the best possible conclusion. Yes, the initial plan of action wasn’t…optimal,” She said delicately. “But you have advisors, and you listened to them. To me. That is the mark of a true leader. You don’t have to bear the weight of every decision on your own. You’ve already learned the lesson before, that you need not stand alone. Sometimes you just…need a reminder.”

  In response, I let out a long, slow breath, feeling…a great deal of stress flow out of me along with it. My Core and Middle Lattices quieted as well.

  She…was right. As always, it seemed.

  I really don’t know what I would do without Sylvia. It truly was a wonder that such a unique existence as hers was so wise. I really was lucky.

  I drifted closer to her, and this time, our kiss was much less abrupt and far more tender. When we separated, we rested our foreheads against each other for a moment. I met her eyes in the scant centimeters between us, and smiled. “Thank you,” I said simply.

  “Of course,” Sylvia said softly, before pulling away and straightening up. “Now, we have work to do. Let’s go get our people back.”

  She was right. Don’t worry, Walter.

  We’re coming.

  ………………………………………..

  The combined group of the Captains of the expeditions, in addition to their chosen escorts, numbered over fifty people. Every single one of us was armed and armored as well as we could manage, for the possible coming confrontation. The Captains, myself included, were all astride horses that had been pulled from harnesses to grant us further presence during the negotiations. It had been a while since I’d been up on horseback, frankly, and I initially felt a bit unsteady on the stallion. I think…the last time had been during my ride with Hook and Sylvia, when we had left Twyr Gronn behind, bound for Elderwyck. To the best of my knowledge, that horse had been donated to the city itself in the aftermath of Rhazal’s decimation.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Sometimes, I wondered how it was doing.

  In addition to that, I had ordered the Ashen Bride forward just a little bit more, from the stationary position that we had left it in during our deliberations. If this came to an outright fight with Olgar and his forces, I wanted my people closer at hand so we could call for reinforcements.

  There had been a very hurried discussion about whether we literally intended to plant a flag outside the gates of this Dwarven town, but eventually we had decided not to. The expedition didn’t really have a unified flag, considering the various factions its members were drawn from. And it would probably not go over well to be planting a Herztalian flag on Velancian soil in the first place.

  As our group drew closer to the town, I got a better look at it. I hadn’t exactly had much time to observe it earlier, right before the ambush. To my dismay, it looked like the kind of place that would be a nightmare to assault if we had to. The town had almost abnormally high wells, towering just barely under the peaks of what seemed to be very closely packed buildings. To make matters worse, not only were the tops of the walls covered in sharpened spikes, but the outer surface of them was as well. There was no conceivable way that anyone would be climbing those. The issue was compounded by the fact that the forest seemed to have been cleared for some distance around the town. It was hard to tell from the outside, especially because the wrought iron gates were closed, but whatever this place was, it must have extremely narrow streets.

  If this came to a fight, it would be a bloodbath on our behalf. If Olag was smart, he would have his forces hiding within every window, doorway, and alley, ready to strike out at any moment. I’m not sure if it would even help to try to reconnoiter this place from the air, considering I was capable of flight. Would I even learn anything, or would I just be exposed to the apparent sharpshooters that filled Olag’s forces?

  At the absolute least, it was a bit brighter in this area, considering how the forest had been cleared. The dim grey light of the Skyfall fell from the heavens to illuminate this veritable stronghold. Our procession had stopped just at the edge of that light, with the high walls and iron gate of the city looming a few hundred yards away.

  They had to know we were here, by now. I’d eat my remaining dagger if there weren’t hidden observation posts in and on top of that wall.

  But the town was silent, and the gate remained shut.

  I frowned, exchanging a glance with Nyx as I did. My fellow Captain shrugged one obsidian shoulder and then raised an expectant eyebrow at me.

  I sighed and urged my horse forward, breaking from the center of the procession and stepping into the light. I discreetly cast a familiar Spell to amplify my voice, took a deep breath, and called out.

  “Olag of House Florens!” My enhanced call carried through the air, ringing over the spikes and the peaks. “Come forth! I, Marshal Nathaniel Hart of the Order of the Polaris Reach, would treat with you! We have matters of import to discuss!”

  Silence rang in the wake of my words, for a moment. Long enough that I started to worry that I was either going to be ignored or fired upon from the walls. At the very least, I was hoping that he would appear atop the battlements for discussion.

  Instead, a loud creaking noise stole through the air of the forest, as the massive iron gates began to open. Through the gap opening in them, I could see far more than just who I presumed was Olag himself, astride a horse of his own in a manner that was uncommon for Dwarves.

  He had an entire platoon arrayed behind him. There must have been hundreds of highly armed and armored Dwarves lined up in neat columns at his back. Earlier, our ambushers had been cloaked and lightly armored for their sudden assault upon the caravan. Not so, for these soldiers. All of them were in custom blackened steel plates, covered from head to toe with not an inch of skin exposed. Upon their heads was the same mask of stern Dwarven face, etched into a frown and glowering out at the world, this time attached to a strangely cone-shaped helmet with distinct peaks of their own. They stood perfectly still in their lines, with the first few rows wielding tall shields and hammers, with the middle lines bristling with pikes and the back with crossbows.

  A low murmur of unease filled our comparatively smaller group. That was…a very professional-looking group of exterminators. If it came to a fight between us, I’d need to call in our reinforcements.

  We likely wouldn’t stand a chance against them on our own.

  I kept myself and my composure by clamping down on myself with the physical control of my Middle Lattice, though the low current of unease in our troops unsettled my horse. It cantered briefly beneath me as I focused on my counterpart, just inside the gates.

  Olag, because I had no doubt it was him, was clad much the same way as his men were, with only two differences. Upon his helmet, at approximately ear height, he bore a crimson red feather attached on the right side, its long plume stretching up and out to bob near the peak. And upon his breastplate, he had emblazoned a raven of a similar color, its wings stretching across the length of it from one pauldron to the other. It must be his personal emblem, because one of his soldiers bore it upon a large flag as a standard behind him.

  A crimson raven on a black field. An inversion of the standard Florens crest.

  That…was a bit ominous, I’ll grant him that.

  Across the distance, I locked gazes with Olag.

  (Presumably.)

  Neither of us moved from our positions, with our men behind our backs for long minutes.

  Still. I wanted to avoid further conflict with the Dwarf. If he didn’t want to make the first move, I would. It cost me nothing to make it.

  I stirred my horse forward, and it reluctantly trotted forward. In the silence before the gates, I guided the horse to the halfway point between our two forces, and there I stopped.

  There. I was willing to meet you here, and no further, Olag.

  Prove to me you were willing to compromise as I had.

  And reveal to me a potential secret when you do so.

  Over at the gates, I saw Olag turn his head slightly to his left, and one of his soldiers step forward. They must have exchanged a few words, as moments later, the soldier snapped into a salute, before stepping back…

  And Olag trotted forward to meet me.

  I kept my face even as the well-armed Dwarf reached my position, apparently unbothered by being outside of his wards. Once he stopped no more than a few feet from me, silence descended upon us once more. The two of us visibly eyed one another across the scant feet between us, before Olag broke it, reciprocating my own willingness to meet in the middle.

  “Greetings to you, Marshall Hart,” A familiar deep voice echoed from his helmet. “Long has it been since last we beheld each other. I have a gift for you, here at this most fortuitous of meetings.”

  An ominous feeling crept up my spine, then, as Olag reached down and behind him, for something hanging from the saddlebags on his dark horse. He untied it, and in only moments, he had underhand tossed it in my direction.

  Almost instinctively, I caught the object in my hands, wincing as I did so. Thankfully, it wasn’t an Alchemical bomb, like my Core Lattice was scolding me it could have been.

  Instead, it was something almost worse.

  A spherical canvas bag, stained and sticky with a familiar crimson liquid leaking from the bottom of it. The horrid stench spoiled iron rose from it, as I felt rage like none I had ever felt before rise up from within me.

  If this was what I feared it was…

  Creed or no creed, I would wipe Olag off the face of Vereden. Him and his company.

  With fingers shaking with rage, I undid the knotted rope holding it closed, and the canvas fell away, exposing Olag’s ‘gift’.

  What greeted my eyes was the severed head of Captain Giancarlo Bronzle, my former prisoner’s mouth hanging open in eternal horror.