"If you can't win the war, then at least you can ensure that no one else does. There's nothing more unifying than mutually assured destruction."
―Dread Emperor Vindictive the First
The Radiant Archer stepped through the door out into the early afternoon sunlight. Merton was tall and in his late twenties. He wore an open cotton shirt, with his chest exposed. With short, black hair, lean muscle and crisp blue eyes, the Radiant Archer looked like some of the cats that prowled the streets late at night.
He stepped away from the door, and the stern faced figure of the Learned Tactician marched behind him. Edric was of a more reasonable height, with a bald head and greying eyebrows. He was in his mid-fifties and was dressed in the officer's uniform of one of the old Callowan noble houses. I'd been told that he'd had hidden away in Daoine after the Calamities first took Callow, only returning recently.
The door slammed shut. I had no idea what Edric was doing today, only that I'd been told to learn from him again. It was best that I found out now, before I arrived somewhere without the tools I needed because it was another lesson on preparedness. I ran up towards them.
"Fine weather we've been having," I commented.
"She's about as subtle as the Gallant Youth," Merton noted.
"We're investigating," Edric told me tersely.
"Aeth would leave this duty to the soldiers," the Radiant Archer snorted derisively, "not that it's even necessary."
"We've already disarmed many traps located in strategic positions," Edric countered.
Not this again.
The Radiant Archer and the Learned Tactician always argued. If it wasn't about the rebellion, then it was about their favourite meal or something else equally unimportant. It made Merton's decision to follow along even more confusing.
Their pace picked up. Down the stairs onto the ground floor.
"Investigating what?"
"The Royal Foundry. The Sons of Streges told us that the Empire left it unused. Perhaps we can make use of it."
"So I don't need anything?" I pressed.
"Not this time."
It had been over a week since we'd moved to Summerholm and over three since we'd heard the Legions had pulled out from it. Between organizing the training of soldiers, shoring up the defences of the city and managing supplies, the Reluctant Strategist was never not occupied. She'd had people searching up and down every corner of the city for traps or weaknesses.
"This here's all a waste," Merton swaggered, "but at least we're finally moving. Hopefully I'll have a shot at the Warlock. We could've won this months ago if they'd let me go at him."
"This kind of impulsiveness will see us all perish," the Learned Tactician pressed his lips tight together. "It's discipline that keeps us alive. Nothing else."
"One shot, and that's all it'll take," the Radiant Archer ran his calloused fingers over the bow slung over his shoulders. "It'll be like that Cyclops near the Waning Woods."
I snorted.
"Seems little miss has an opinion on your antics," Edric commented.
"It would've ended in Liesse if it was that easy."
"Why, I'll have you know that I'm far more capable of putting an arrow through the eyes of an upstart wizard than any Proceran priestess," Merton blustered.
Both of them continued to bicker as I followed behind them. My annoyance spiked as we passed through the inner ring of walls into the outer city. Watchtowers loomed over every choke point, and every other street was filled with killing fields.
Even with the greenskins having pulled out and Summerholm being nominally under the control of the rebellion, the place was intimidating to see. There was a small part of me that wanted to explore, but I stabbed that part of me and left it out to dry. Best to end the urge now before it ended me.
Edric and Merton slowed outside a looming oak building, then shoved the door open.
Dust billowed outwards, some spraying into Merton's open mouth. He let out a hacking cough.
Edric and I ignored him.
"So it did fall out of use," Edric mused as he peered into the room.
I squinted and looked in from beside him. The light was so dim that I wasn't sure how he was seeing anything inside at all. Both of them entered the musty old room. I followed behind. Edric led the way and pointed at one detail after another. From the large, cast iron furnace on the left, to the forge on the right. He stopped, inspected and told me what to pay attention to. He had a dull, droning voice. I'd rather have listened to anyone else.
Hours later and my attention had long since drifted off.
Edric became irritable, then sent me outside alone. Merton stayed beside him. I imagined that the two of them kept trading occasional barbs.
Even though it was now late afternoon, the light outside was harsh after spending so long in the broken remains of the Royal Foundry. The shadows were much more comfortable. I blinked, brushed my hair out of my eyes, then fell to the ground as I stumbled into somebody.
"You're not here to burn this place to the ground, are you?" a voice eeped out from the pile both of us had collapsed into.
I untangled myself from the other figure and looked their way. It was a girl. She looked about my age — maybe a little younger — with black hair, sunburnt cheeks, watery blue eyes and a delicate nose. There was a vile smell about her. I couldn't place what it was. Perhaps some kind of rotten berry?
"Not presently," I replied.
"Good, good," her shoulders sagged. "My family lives nearby. I'm not sure where we would go if this place burned to the ground."
"Do I look like I'm about to set this place on fire?" I scowled at her.
"A bit," she stammered, "don't take this the wrong way, but you've got this shifty look to you."
"We're just looking around. What's your name?"
"Abigail," her nose twitched.
"Aren't you going to ask me mine?"
"Is that safe?"
Now she was just making fun of me.
I glared.
"What's your name?" she squeaked.
"Catherine," I smiled.
"You can talk to your new friend later. We're done here," Edric stated, marching out from behind me.
I sent him a glare and then said goodbye to the strange, twitchy girl.
"You're doing to her what you did to that servant outside the palace," Edric muttered.
"I didn't do anything."
"With that joke of yours," he elaborated.
"The joke was funny," I defended.
"Mind sharing the joke with everyone else?" Merton interjected.
"You're the only other person here," Edric drawled.
"And I'm enough for everyone. Come on, if someone like you is good enough to hear the joke, then so can anyone else."
"She asked the servant what's the upside to thirty orphans suffocating in a hole," Edric paused.
"What's the punchline?" the Radiant Archer ran his hands along his bow again.
"They aren't starving on the streets," Edric finished.
"That's a shitty joke," Merton turned and gave me a glare.
"The servant told me it was an austere palace," I explained, "I didn't know what austere meant, so I asked somebody else. They told me it meant it was for poor people, so I thought it was a joke because poor people don't own palaces. I thought it was a funny joke, so I told one of my own."
That had both silenced our hosts and earned me a hit over the head from the Stalwart Defender. He hadn't, however, corrected me for what I said.
Both the Radiant Archer and the Learned Tactician just shook their heads and muttered something about that not being the meaning of austere.
We each went our separate ways after we arrived back at the Comital Palace. Night fell, I washed and ate dinner. The food was one of the best meals I'd ever eaten, although the stone chairs left much to complain about. I was assigned a few other minor chores like oiling blades and cleaning up armour. I suspected that the heroes were just trying to keep me out from under their toes. Eventually, I noticed that all the heroes were heading up the main staircase on the landing.
Was something important happening?
Yes.
And they were leaving me out of it.
It took prodding a few servants to learn that a Proceran emissary had arrived and allegedly carried information of interest to the rebellion. I wanted to know more. I trailed behind the heroes, up the stairs and onto the third floor. From there, I followed down a narrow corridor and towards two wide open double doors guarded by men in armour.
One, two, three.
One by one, all the heroes filed between the two potted cacti and through the heavy door.
I slunk towards the door as casually as I could. The room was lit by torches lined in rows, with two on either side of shuttered windows. The cold stone slabs for tables and benches on the opposite side did not make for an inviting seating arrangement, but I'd take what I could get, so long as I could find out more about what was going on.
"Not you, little Cat." Mabli turned around, placed an aged hand on my shoulder and gave me a wrinkled smile.
"There's plenty heroic about being left outside of everything important," I bristled in defiance.
"You're like a cute tiger cub," Mabli coed, "I'm sure you'll find something to occupy you," she said with a meaningful glance my way, "she's to stay out of the meeting," she told the two door guards, before entering the room.
I scowled at her receding figure as the door slammed shut behind her.
"Don't suppose you lot would ignore that?" I drawled at the two armoured figures beside the door.
They didn't respond.
"No? Nothing? Not even worth a send-off?"
They didn't even glance my way.
"Are you even alive in there?" I rapped my knuckles against their plate.
They were unmoved.
"Maybe you're display pieces and not people," I muttered, moving towards the door.
There was a clank as one of them stepped in my way.
Assholes.
What to do now?
I gave them one last glare before I started to search for something to do. Tapestries, carpets, the occasional vase or ornament. And to think that the servant I'd spoken to had the nerve to tell me that it was a poor person's palace. They were actually proud of that! Any place that could afford to hold a tapestry on the walls was anything but poor, but the idea was definitely worth a laugh.
I turned away from the door and glanced down the hallway to the left of it. It opened up onto a balcony with a view out onto the city below. I padded my way towards it. The railing came up to my eye level and I couldn't see over it. I dragged one of the abandoned stone blocks these people called chairs towards it and climbed on top of it. Sighing, I placed my arms over the railing and looked out onto the city of Summerholm.
I was careful to keep my gaze level and not to look down.
The first of the fifty-foot-high rings of city walls towered beneath the pale light of the stars in the distance, past rows of carefully arranged buildings and wide open streets. The second wall lay well beyond it and out of sight. With grim brickwork and minimal artistry, Summerholm looked like an empty plate. Everything about the city was designed for a purpose, and that purpose was war.
There had been some heavy arguments between the Reluctant Strategist and the Faithful Warrior when the Legions pulled out. Mabli insisted that it was a trap. She insisted that there was no reason for the Legions to ever give up the Gateway to the East. It was one of the most fortified positions within Callow and the only place the Legions absolutely had to take when invading. She claimed that attempting to hold it would be overextending, that we should focus on fortifying our position in Laure before even considering taking the bait.
Mabli folded after days of continued pressure from the heroes beneath the Faithful Warrior.
I'd thought that I'd be involved more ever since the fight on the streets, and in some ways I was. Each of the heroes put aside some time to teach me. Archery with the Radiant Archer, tactics and military procedures with the Learned Tactician, logistics with the Stalwart Defender and swordsmanship with the Vengeful Warrior. It had taken me some time to notice that these days I learned faster as well. Skills that would have once taken me weeks to master came to me in days instead.
I'd become far less involved in other ways.
The heroes didn't invite me to participate in anything important, and it was no longer so easy to eavesdrop on their meetings. I failed more often than not in my attempts — mostly due to there being no easily available places to spy from — although I had yet to be caught.
The moon peeked out from beneath a cloud and shone down into my eyes. I blinked, then squinted away.
A series of narrow cracks in the masonry running along the length of the right side of the building caught my attention. They passed close to one of the windows. Dull torchlight flickered from the other side of the shutters. Perhaps I could climb across and listen in through the glass?
I glanced down below.
Nobody was looking up.
I looked behind me.
The view onto the far side of the balcony was blocked by the door.
Biting my lip, I dragged the chair over to that side of the balcony. Then, I climbed. First onto the chair, then onto the railing. A gentle breeze blew through my hair, making me sway from side to side. I looked down at the monster below me and gulped.
This is the stupidest idea you've ever had, Cat.
My heart thundered away in my chest. It was a cloudless cool evening and yet sweat poured itself down my body. I trembled. Was I really considering this? Couldn't I just stay happy being uninvolved?
No. I needed to know. What if Procer was sending troops to our support? Was there some secret plan that didn't involve me? I couldn't not be doing something. It would eat me up if I chose not to act. If I let somebody else solve Callow's problems and didn't do anything myself.
I reached towards one of the cracks and stuck my fingers into them with as much force as I could muster. There was depth to the crack. Maybe enough that I wouldn't slip? I held my breath, sat on the railing and reached downwards with a foot, digging my toes into another series of cracks.
There was some give. Enough that I considered this plan feasible.
Breathe.
I gripped the railing, then tried with another foot. No trouble there, either. I sat awkwardly, with my toes dug into the cracks in the wall and my ass slanted at an angle.
Breathe.
All that was left was my hands. Why was I doing this? My vision swam. I could still turn back from this stupid idea, right? I gulped.
Breathe.
Shakily, I reached out and dug my fingers into the cracks, then pulled myself off the railing.
Don't look down.
I swallowed. My mouth was so dry, it felt like I hadn't eaten in three weeks. Left palm up, reach across, left palm down.
Breathe.
Right palm up, reach across, right palm down.
Left foot.
Right foot.
Breathe.
I came to a rest beside the window sill. The shutters were down, but the lip offered me relief. Torchlight flickered through the gaps, casting eerie shadows along my arms. I climbed onto the window sill as quietly as I could. I was in luck.
"So Procer has nothing for us?" Mabli asked scathingly.
"While it is undoubtedly unfortunate that we are unable to come to your support in these tumultuous times, there is still some aid we can provide to you. The Circle of Thorns has been ordered to provide limited access to our intelligence in a bid to help you break Callow free from the grasp of the Empire," an unknown voice said in a Proceran accent.
There was a rustle of pages, then quiet for a few moments as Mabli presumably read over whatever it was that had been handed to her.
The breeze picked up. I stifled a whimper.
"This… This is what you have for us? This is an insult!" she exclaimed.
"What is it?" the Faithful Warrior asked.
"Praes is overpopulated. They rely on us for food. This just says that if we starve ourselves, then the Empire will fall apart because of it."
There was another moment of silence, then a rustle. It sounded like the papers were passed from one person to another.
"Burning the fields is… a valid tactic," the Faithful Warrior replied. "Less trouble than Proceran soldiers would cause as well. We hold Laure and Summerholm, but there are still Legions within Callow who we can't easily fight, but we could starve out."
I bit my tongue to stop myself from shouting out in anger. This. This was something he was willing to do, but he didn't want me to fight? How did that make any sense? Had he ever starved before? The Empire needed to go, Callow needed to be free, but this wasn't winning. It was worse than Evil. The Black Knight hadn't starved people. I knew what it was like to starve.
I leaned over a little and felt my grip on the window sill weaken. My heart leapt into my throat. I almost slammed myself backwards into the shutters, before realizing what I mistake that would be.
This was a terrible idea, Cat.
"It wouldn't work," Mabli replied.
"Are you sure it wouldn't work, Mab?" the harsh, grating voice of Gytha — the Stalwart Defender — cut in. "Glory doesn't hold the line, we do."
I could almost see her in my head as she spoke. In her late thirties, she had short red hair that was trimmed to a military cut, muscles so large you could fit a dinner plate inside them, and a frame that was unreasonably tall.
"It worked in Aisne," the Faithful Warrior challenged.
"It wouldn't work," Mabli repeated, "because the Black Knight pulled back to clean his own house. Thousands will die, then their food problem will go away."
"What does your Aspect say?" Hilda — the Vengeful Warrior — asked.
"Wasting away another month of her life to assuage your concerns is reckless," Edric criticized.
"Mercy has no place in this war," the Vengeful Warrior retorted, "just that they all burn by the end of it."
There were a few more moments of arguing. It didn't take long for discussions to once again fall along existing lines. Those who were behind the Reluctant Strategist and those who were behind the Faithful Warrior.
More pressure was put on Mabli. Eventually, she conceded to the demands.
Mabli let out a gasp.
"There, are you happy?" she snapped. "Another month of my life gone only to confirm what I already knew. It won't work, it'll achieve no more than pissing in the wind."
"I don't believe you," the Faithful Warrior replied.
The other voices all silenced. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the leaders to resolve their argument.
"What?" Mabli sounded incredulous, "I used my Aspect, and you still doubt me?"
"We've sat and done nothing for over a season. Day in and day out, it's always the same. It's always too risky. Being a hero is about being bold. It's about doing what others don't. Well, now our enemy is vulnerable. We can't even call ourselves heroes if we still hold back and wait when our enemies have got up and left us here."
"The Black Knight wants you to do this, you wool-headed fool," she hissed, "that's his whole plan. You start burning the fields, and what will your own people think of you?"
"They'll thank me once they are free," he replied.
"I'm not going along with this."
Three more voices were raised in agreement with the Reluctant Strategist.
"Then this is where we part ways from each other."
"We hold the most defensible position in Callow. All we need to do is fortify and wait."
"Waiting is what you do, Mabli."
Another gust of breeze slammed into me. I looked down by mistake. The ground beckoned to me some thirty feet below. I could feel the shakes start to set in.
"This is how he wins. We split, and then one by one he picks us all off."
"Then come with us while we take the battle to the Legions."
The room fell quiet for a few moments.
"Listen to what your heart says if your head won't listen to reason. Would She want you to do this?" Mabli asked.
"As you're so fond of telling me, She is not here."
"The only reason I haven't killed their armies already is your insistence on caution," the Radiant Archer boasted.
"The moment you show your pretty little head, the Warlock would cut you down," Mabli retorted.
Another round of arguments broke out.
The more I listened, the more I came to agree with the Reluctant Strategist. I didn't like waiting around and doing nothing, but I liked the idea of starving people even less. Fortify our position, protect what we had and then take back Callow one step at a time. It might be slower than starving people, but at least it wasn't worse than Evil. Besides, trying to push the remaining Legions out like this all at once wasn't bold, it was stupid. Maybe the idea could work, but if it failed, then nobody would view the rebellion with anything but hatred afterwards.
It wasn't long until the Faithful Warrior and his band departed the chamber. They planned to rally as many volunteers behind them as they could within a week, and then try to take the fight to the Legions.
The Reluctant Strategist refused to budge from Summerholm.
She dismissed the remaining three heroes only a few moments later.
I was about to start the epic quest back to the balcony when I heard what sounded like the ding of a spoon hitting the inside of a teacup, followed by the offbeat strumming of a lute.
"So you came," Mabli sighed.
"That I did," a voice declared dramatically.
It wasn't one that I recognized.
"I tried keeping them together," Mabli spoke.
"You did the best you can with the hand you were dealt," the voice commiserated.
"I'm not sure how to salvage this."
"Chin up, girl. Smile. You haven't lost yet," the voice said lightly.
Mabli snorted.
"The odds were long, even before the split."
There was a long, drawn out gulp, before a sigh.
"That's the stuff," the voice mumbled. "This Vale Summer wine is great. I swear, you don't know what I've had to put up with these past few years."
"I'll pass your compliments to the corpse that I filched it from."
"You do that," the unknown voice said, before becoming more businesslike, "You feel like listening to me talk for a bit?"
"Go on," Mabli urged wearily.
"So, here's a story that I bet you're familiar with. It's the story of the Crusader Kingdoms after Triumphant was beaten. They held onto Praes at first, and rebellion after rebellion was beat back."
"Then came the second Terribilis," the Reluctant Strategist replied.
"There was plenty of unrighteous fury that built up first," the voice added, "but yes, then he came and pushed back the crusaders."
The voice continued to regale the Reluctant Strategist with the tale of the downfall of the Crusader Kingdoms. I sat with my eyes closed, trying to ignore the rustle of the wind in my hair and the pull of the ground fifty feet below.
"So fail in a way that leaves room for the future," Mabli mused as the tale ended. "Not my glass of mulled wine."
"That's what I like to hear," the voice cheered.
"I feel like I'm sixty, and I'm only nineteen," Mabli groaned.
There was another lull as the voice took a deep gulp.
"What's the story that all Praesi are told from the cradle?"
"Anyone can claim the tower," the answer Mabli gave was almost immediate.
"Right, so, this story you won't know so well," the voice stated, "so interrupt me if you want anything clarified."
"Go on," Mabli repeated impatiently.
"There was once a hero who held the Tower. He went by the regnal name of Benevolent, although he killed more than Massacre, so you could say that it's a bit of a misnomer."
"Why hasn't anyone ever heard of him then," Mabli inquired.
"He came so close to winning that the Praesi did their best to purge him from the records."
"The rest of the world should still know about him."
"Purged him with demons," the voice emphasized.
I tried to muster up the correct amount of fear at the word, but right then the only demon I feared was the one a hundred feet below me. Why was I sitting up here? There was nothing sensible about hiding out on a window ledge and eavesdropping on a conversation. Where had sensible Catherine gone to, and could she come back and scold me for this lapse in my wits?
The story continued to unfold, and I did my best to ignore the ground as the wind started to howl.
"It's a bit too late for me to climb the tower," the Reluctant Strategist drawled as the story came to an end.
"It could be somebody else."
"Callow is not part of the Empire."
"What if it was?"
"The whole point of this is to get Callow out of the Empire."
"What if the Empire was part of Callow, then?"
Silence fell in the room.
It took more than a few moments for me to realize that the visitor was gone.
"Two stories each with their own lessons, but where is the third, forth, or however many more there are that remain unexamined?" the Reluctant Strategist whispered to herself. "There's always more than two stories to a side. Which strategy is it — I wonder — that you wish for us to follow?"
Now, to make my way back.
The wind picked up even further. Now a heavy gale, I doubted anyone could hear me if I let off a scream. A rumble. Was that lightning? I dug my fingers and toes into the cracks, then started to climb my way across. The ground almost seemed to yawn a thousand feet below me.
Breathe.
I released a hand and reached over, before digging my fingers into the wall once again. Whispers called out to me, my hair blew up and covered my eyes. I whimpered and reached over again.
Breathe.
Hand, foot, hand, foot. The world narrowed into a dark tunnel as I did all that I could to avoid lowering my gaze towards the ground. At last, I reached the balcony and panted as I pulled myself onto it. I heard the door to the room open once more, but ignored it. Safe, I was safe.
"You look awfully frazzled for somebody whose been sitting on the balcony for over an hour," Mabli prodded.
My reverie shattered.
"It's windy up here."
"Windy, of course," Mabli's eyes fell to my gritty fingernails. She said nothing, then looked towards her own wrinkled hands. "You can follow around Edric tomorrow," she declared.
"Again?" I blurted out, "that is, er, nothing against Edric, but I'd rather learn from somebody more fun?"
"I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that," Mabli replied.
"If I have to hear about the importance of ditches or proper latrine placement in warfare one more time," I muttered.
Mabli skewered me with her gaze. I shivered.
"Remember Catherine, the higher you climb, the further there is to fall."
"I'm not enthusiastic about heights myself."
"Best prepare thoroughly if you wish to reach the summit," she gave me the hint of a smile.
She turned away and left.
I wasn't sure what she meant.
I wasn't sure that I wanted to know, either.
