Characters mentioned:

Old Crows

A veteran mounted group of men-at-arms under Stephan De Braal that included the Vulture's Own outfit.

Heb Jong (a man-at-arms leader)

Evert Mossman

Gallant Dogs

Commandant, Rollon Martel

Purse Officer, Demetrius Martel

Johnny 'Hardwood', (Recruiter, a former slaver)

Nita Ola, (Company's scribe, Johnny's slave)

Sergeant, Bardo Masin (an officer in the destroyed Gold Contract Company)

Sergeant, Ricard Willian (Engineer, the surviving of the two Ricks)

Blood Raiders

Sergeant, Lyndon Vossler

Vernon Vossler (Lyndon's young brother)

'Smoky' Wyler

Royal courtiers & Jasi's 'nymphs'

Lady Katelyn Rosman (Courtier, maid-in-waiting)

Erfan, (a Cofol scribe at Scaldingport)

Mirte, (an Issir spying inside the capital)

Khanate operatives or collaborators

Master Remas, (a Khanate Slaver-master used by Pourem)

Kanta, (a khanate slaver and torturer)

Jep Ipsen, (the infamous local Issir criminal)

Ernest Weir (in Ipsen's gang, probably a pseudonym)

Jasi

'The Queen's Eunuch'

On the Queen's orders:

Thirty feet of thick wall

3

-Then, so be it, general-

2nd day of the eleventh month

Sir Adrian Hakker, grabbed the reins to his horse and Rik dismounted lithely. He removed his black, crow-shaped helm and secured it on the saddle. Then he turned around to perceive the gaunt face of the old Shield.

"Stephan," Rik rustled with a grimace. "I've said my piece."

De Braal walked near him, his spurs digging in the mud and paused to stare at the men of Mads Struder's company perched up on the ruins of Mid Bridge. Then at the Scorpio's fixed elevated positions near the flooded banks of the river.

"Caught anyone else?" The old Baron asked. "Lord Crow?"

"They have installed metal plates on the boats," Rik replied. "We need to destroy the naval yards or take them."

"You can't control the naval yards," De Braal noted. "It's too deep and under the cover of the walls. Reinut built the city to be unconquerable. Mortar and stone, cement in the foundations, iron-reinforced and thick as three carriages in order to withstand an attack by Ogres."

"Soft ground in the flats facing the city, easily flooded by the two great rivers," Rik continued mockingly with a glare at the weathered-face of the old Baron. "I know this Stephan."

"The Queen does also. But she doesn't understand it," De Braal replied and stared at him. "You must be patient with her."

"I won't take advice from you," Rik grunted.

"You father did," De Braal retorted and Rik shook his head, before sobering up.

"Come clean old man. Did he heed to any of your advice?"

"Not really," De Braal murmured and twisted his mouth. "But Ruud knew what to do."

"He didn't have to listen to her idiotic arguments," Rik snapped and the Baron nodded in understanding. "Thinking she fooled the Van Oord out of their grievances, when she has given Castalor everything."

"However, it was indeed the right decision at that moment. The Van Oord definitely needs to become more involved," De Braal remarked.

"Aha. Right," Rik grunted in a mocking manner. "If I require a mediator, I'll choose a more attractive face next time, Stephan."

"The Queen will withdraw once the casualties start to accumulate," De Braal stated.

"These are actual people!" Rik retorted angrily.

"Indeed. Still, that didn't prevent you from firing on the slant-eyed mongrel's boats," De Braal observed.

"Pourem is stalling for time, anticipating either reinforcements or an assault from Lord Anker on our flanks," Rik said, now disturbed. "I can't afford to give him that time."

"Anker would never launch an attack across a river. He's extremely cautious," De Braal pointed out, handing him an old envelope. Rik accepted it with a scowl and broke the seal of the aged wax.

"Hubert's handwriting," he identified the letters, looking at the former Shield curious.

"Your father's words," De Braal revealed. "I was meant to deliver it to your brother, but life took an unexpected turn."

Rik scanned the brief note and twisted his mouth in response. "The Duke safeguards the Duchy," he read aloud, and the old Baron nodded slowly in agreement.

"Indeed," De Braal murmured, stroking his gloved hand over the white stubble on his chin. "You are the Duke of Scaldingport," he told him meaningfully. "The responsibility lies with you, young Rook."

-

last day, of the tenth month

The eunuch trailed behind the former Shield of the Duchy as soon as the queen set off for her field tent, which was now positioned on the right side of the road, to the east, adjacent to the forest. A majority of the tents were lined up on both sides of the queen's, with a tall fence made of branches facing the woods, while the Old Crows maintained a mounted patrol outside the perimeter to secure the area, aided by the arriving, boisterous Blood Raiders. The latter seized control of the closest finished tents, prompting the disgruntled merchants to voice their complaints, which in turn compelled Jasi to part ways with the Baron to broker a deal between the two parties. Thus, the semi-inebriated pirates got to linger around the queen, while the merchants were moved further away from the royal tent, and about an hour later a tired Jasi returned to the location chosen by the Baron —right at the edge of the woods— in order to set up his own considerably more modest sleeping quarters.

De Braal was engrossed in deep conversation with the leadership of the Old Crows when the eunuch approached him, primarily Heb Jong and Evert Mossman. He had entrusted the young Jurian De Braal with remaining near the Queen to serve as his liaison. The majority of the original 'Vulture's Own' core were present as well —which was to be expected since they were a prominent faction within the much larger mounted militia out of Hunter's Cot— with Ward Neve attending to Janus Boult's wounds and the troubled Sir Beren Kuik leaning against a tree trunk, listening intently to the Baron's words.

Jasi approached hoping to eavesdrop, but Kuik spotted him effortlessly given that the eunuch stood out like a sore thumb and let out a sharp whistle of warning to alert the Baron of his approach. The eunuch grimaced in annoyance, gathered the muddied at its edges blanket around him —it had stopped raining in the meantime— and strolled looking to avoid the worst of the mire, near the group of older men-at-arms, who turned to look his way with harsh, judging eyes.

Either lust or disgust.

Perverted curiosity or outright hostility.

This land was actively fighting against him and it was annoying.

"Get our people situated, Mossman. Secure supplies for the animals afore everything is looted away. The camps are alerted to our presence via the hospital," De Braal ordered the younger of their group and Evert —a man in his early forties— nodded with respect. He then departed with his friend Heb Jong, leaving the more-pensive than usual Baron seated on the foldable chair near the crude field table. They had used a thick hemp sheet tied on nearby branches to shade the Baron from a potential downpour. Everyone was thoroughly soaked by now, and most had various layers of thick mud covering their legs up to the knees, as both sides of the graveled path had been thoroughly plowed by men, wagons and animals for months.

With the road packed, everyone got to experience trudging through the mire as a sort of unpleasant but intense exercise.

All and sundry also agreed that a good week of proper snowfall was needed and even colder weather, in order for the ground to harden back up again. Jasi thought them crazy initially, but had changed his mind in the past couple of hours.

"All-Gods help us," De Braal grunted seeing Jasi waiting behind the departing men. "Yer following me around eunuch? This sort of intimacy is making me uncomfortable!"

"It's a small camp," Jasi retorted fighting back his anger, when some of the retiring soldiers chuckled. "But I did it on purpose, for I want a word in private."

A new series of chuckles followed his reply.

"That so?" De Braal rustled, then paused to glare at the milling about men-at-arms. "Every one of you lazy mutts with plenty of spare time, gets to fell trees this afternoon and clear the ground from debris! A horse turns an ankle, you get ten lashes!" The Baron boomed abruptly and stood up from his chair. "I don't want to see any pouting! We are talking good, honest work here gentlemen! Rejoice and get into it. It'll make old Stephan less sad also. Why is that? Who knows it?"

"You don't like paying lads 'good coin' for doing nothing," Beren replied with a smirk. "It includes traveling and they be doing this for most of the previous year. Now to keep it fair, the traveling part is real, but the other part about the 'good coin'… well, with all respect, it is half-bullshit talk, Milord."

"Haha! Of course it's bullshit! If any of you lads want a full purse at the end of the month, in order to chuckle freely or whore about, become a blasted mercenary and perish young like the Gallant Dogs over yonder! They are begging for recruits. Yep. I see the thought ain't that appealing! Anyways, I've got my answer! The good knight knows what he's talking about, huh? No wonder he's a knight and you bastards ain't," De Braal barked and paused to stare at Sir Beren for a brief moment. "Janus is alright?"

"Just old," Beren replied twisting his mouth and now satisfied the Baron turned to Jasi. He again paused to examine the blanket covering the eunuch and probably his ruined makeup, then secured the chair behind him with a hand and sat back down.

"Baron," Jasi started, "what happened back there?"

De Braal reached on the field table and took an apple out of a bowl. He used a small knife to peel off a portion and tossed the hard skin to his grazing horse. The Baron watched it eat for a while and then took a bite from the fruit himself. It was as if Jasi hadn't spoken at all.

"You had Meyer killed," Jasi hissed, trying to control his anger. He'd had it with these people.

"Meyer reached for a lofty position near the queen," De Braal rustled finally, crooking his mouth displeased. "Many men have the same aspirations, but few succeed despite managing great many a deed, eunuch. The lad perished, because he failed a simple test."

"Fighting a god darn sword instructor!" a flushed Jasi noted.

"Janus was great with the blade twenty years ago," De Braal retorted. "Meyer could have beaten him easily, but he tried to rush things and impress our queen. It works in the field, this type of aggressiveness, against peasants who brandish a sword as a kitchen knife, but in a duel against someone who knows what he's plaguing doing, it just leaves you open. Leave an opening for a big blade to cut you and it shall indeed cut you, nine times out of ten. Meyer," De Braal added staring into Jasi's eyes. "Killed himself with words and actions."

"You actually think, I'm a fool?" Jasi queried. "You've set him up, Baron."

"How?"

"Didn't you just describe it? You should've sided with the Queen!"

"I would have, had he kept his darn mouth shut! You don't win a knighthood with words eunuch!" De Braal barked hoarsely, banging his fist on the table and sending the bowl with the apples tumbling down. "It's an honor given for services rendered or faithful serfdom. You want a personal title, raise a banner and fight a blasted war!"

Jasi licked his painted lips, trying to keep his composure. "The queen wanted Meyer to serve her Baron. You intervened for a more serious reason. Why?"

"You really don't understand how things work eunuch," De Braal replied with a glance at the silent Sir Beren, who was watching their discussion, still perched with his back on the old trunk. "I've given my reason, offered another way to go about it and Meyer took it. How is a man, who can't survive against an elderly warrior today, protect the queen on the morrow?"

"What was the reasoning? This rift of yours?" Jasi asked trying not to get distracted, even if the Baron's words appeared to hold weight.

"Thomas was too-brass," De Braal replied. "Angering the Duke, and his knights. An influence the queen doesn't need around her, and of dubious origins."

"You won't dictate that Baron!" Jasi snapped, before he could control himself.

"I didn't dictate anything," De Braal insisted. "Thomas should have known Janus as an Issir. He has won four arms skills tournaments in the past, worked with a young Duke Ruud and myself. I don't consider myself the best swordsman to ever live, but I can name you four-five still-living greats easily, more really, both before and after my time. Beren can, and he had to learn his letters on the saddle. Right, my good knight?"

Beren nodded.

"It's what you do in this life," De Braal continued. "Built yourself up with hard work, patience and learn the world you want to live in by heart. Different names, for different professions, with some overlapping each other. Name me a great swordsman, Sir Beren!"

"The greatest living?" Beren asked coolly.

"Sure."

"By sheer reputation, the Bloody Tiger. These last couple decades, late Sir Reinir and Emerson of Ballard," Beren replied with a shrug. "Mayhap that other Lesia kid, from Armium."

"There, he didn't even hesitate," De Braal retorted. "Is he right? Maybe. Um, maybe not, but Beren has put the time in to educate himself, on top of working on his blade skills. Didn't grovel to get himself a title. Why, didn't you opt to go that route Beren?"

"It wouldn't have worked, sir," Beren replied and the Baron nodded.

"The Queen has the right to knight whomever she wants," Jasi said after they finished talking. While they had valid points, it boiled down to this simple fact and the eunuch —raised in a different environment— couldn't justify the reluctance these men showcased to follow the queen's wishes.

"It would have insulted the Duke, so what happened is for the best, eunuch," De Braal said, tapping the table with his fingers.

"The Duke is not above the Queen," Jasi noted in frustration.

"He's not, but some characters are less receptive to insult than others. If you keep doing it to them, they might become resentful. Reversing the Duke's decision would have opened up some paths we don't need to venture down to. Meyer's mere presence next to the Queen or a wrong word could have been catastrophic for our cause!" De Braal shot back. "You know I'm right," he added, causing Jasi to wince.

"The Queen requires her personal guards," Jasi reminded the Baron with a weary sigh. "Else, she might invite more pirates into her inner circle with Gust away, and while you currently have her favor De Braal, you know… it's not what you desire for the future."

De Braal nodded, looking taken aback by Jasi's calm perspective on the issue.

"The lands are filled with camps, brimming with loyal soldiers," the Baron responded after a moment of contemplation. "The Queen can have her pick."

"We'll see about that. She wishes to visit the capital," Jasi seized the moment to say.

"It's perilous to take the Queen to the frontlines. There's bombardment happening, and the armies are too congested right now. Too many unsecured fronts. Let the winter come, and we'll reconsider the idea."

"She won't agree to the delay, Baron," Jasi cautioned.

"When you see the walls," De Braal replied, "you'll realize that she must. Make her understand."

Jasi left the Baron's side unsatisfied. While a certain rapport had been found, he wasn't comfortable with what had happened or fully trusting the old nobleman. The Baron knew the inner workings of the large Duchy and was useful in Gust's absence, but the eunuch would have preferred for Elsanne to have her own people running things.

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He approached the perimeter of the Queen's quarters and one of the Blood Raiders, dressed in a garish green jacket over chainmail called out to him. Jasi paused with a glance at the cloudy skies for the man to approach. Lyndon Vossler, an Issir half-breed, was actually one of the leaders of the unruly group out of Lord's Burrow camped around the Queen's tent and blocking the road completely.

"There's a sneaky fellow over yonder," Lyndon started without any fanfare or decorum, a thin pick between his gold teeth moving about, "Be claiming he goes back wit Mirte, under the name Ernest Weir."

"I've never heard that name before," Jasi shot back, glancing sideways at the hooded Issir, who was being restrained by a couple of Blood Raiders. He had tried to make his way to the Queen's tent through the woods but was intercepted by the lurking in the bushes 'guards'. The guards had made him empty his pockets and took everything of value this Ernest carried with him.

It was almost an ambush.

Eh.

"Well, the lad certainly has a shifty look about him," Lyndon remarked. "A proper criminal, indeed."

Jasi gazed blankly at the former pirate's sun-kissed serious face. "Does he work for Jep Ipsen?" The exasperated eunuch asked Lyndon.

"Now, who might that be?" Lyndon queried with a frown, now looking confused.

"Forget it, I'll speak to him myself," Jasi retorted with a weary sigh.

Ernest Weir, the man with the mud-covered cheap hood and the scarred face, waited for Jasi to approach clenching his jaw nervously. He'd a damaged left eye from a slash starting at his ear and bowed his head with respect, which not many Issir did.

"Mirte sent you?" Jasi asked lowering his voice, despite the pirate-guards leaving them space and moving near Lyndon Vossler.

"She did. You are Lord Jasi?" Ernest asked.

Jasi didn't object at the title. "Luckily for you. Why approach the camp?"

"The bird died," Ernest explained and glanced at the guards sharing their findings with Lyndon. "Looters got it."

"Is Mirte safe?" Jasi probed, disregarding the man's innuendo.

"The lass is fine… she's with Jep Ipsen."

"Is that a good thing?" Jasi probed. "You've one minute to give me a report, mister Weir. Then I'll tell the guards to give you the bird treatment."

"There might be a way to hit the East Gates," Ernest explained. "Mirte is working to map out a plan with Ipsen."

"What about the horses patrolling the corn fields up to the watermill?" Jasi asked.

"There's a gap you could exploit there, but you need to move fast, and if Ipsen is to assist you, then he needs assurances from the Queen," Ernest expounded some more. "We all have a rather poor record, milord. Plenty of questionable life-choices in there."

"You don't expect… at the very least you should make the effort to reform yourself a bit. Be half-decent even, if you can't be a model citizen and human being," Jasi scolded him.

"It's a real struggle, milord. Our current situation isn't helping," Ernest admitted. "Is there a lower tier perhaps?"

"Not there isn't you cretin! By the gods! Ah… anyways, let me see now," a frustrated Jasi shook his head in disgust, before continuing. "We don't have the men to assault the East Gates," the eunuch murmured thinking the whole idea through. "Without abandoning control of the main road to Pourem. He then can just switch his attention back there. Better to finish building the machines and starve him out… what's so funny?" The eunuch asked the grimacing criminal.

"Nothing. You are not going to succeed," Ernest told him.

"Assaulting the East Gates?" Jasi asked.

"Any gates," Ernest expounded. "The Vizier is willing to starve the city out and they are preparing to resume full control of the seas by next summer. They have the ships made already."

"People will revolt," Jasi snapped. "The Queen is here."

"People fear Pourem more than the queen, milord Jasi," Ernest argued. "Once Kanta starts his rounds they look for a hole to hide into."

Jasi pursed his mouth. "Why not use the ships now?"

"We don't know. It's a Khanate matter, but Remas said Pourem is prepared for a deep defense of the city even if a part of the walls is lost. The only thing he cares about are the river docks, but he setup a system to rotate troops from side to side, leaving much of the walls unguarded, in order to respond to a threat there. Or anywhere. There is a window open, as I said, but one must move fast."

The eunuch rubbed at his forehead thoughtfully, the soaked blanket heavy on his shoulders. "You said… Kanta starts his rounds," he told the nervous Issir collaborator. "What did you mean?"

Ernest stared in the eunuch's face unsure. "To pick up the doomed, milord," he finally said and Jasi felt a shiver tickling his spine.

"Explain," he hissed.

"Good grief. You don't know. Mirte had the same reaction," Ernest Weir said sounding surprised. "Ipsen took her to see it and she's been sick ever since."

"Get it out!" Jasi snapped furious and Lyndon Vossler looked their way curious. It was a dubious expression to use for sure, but what Ernest told him next was horrific.

A grim-faced Jasi rushed towards the Queen's tent without any word to Lyndon, after Ernest Weir left to sneak inside the capital again, this time carrying a bag of supplies and some of the belongings the guards had taken from him. Jasi made it ten meters from the large and rather isolated royal tent —inside a small town of tents built around it— and paused to allow a patrolling horseman pass him by, without looking who it was in his frustration. The large brown horse with the mire-stained legs stopped next to the shorter eunuch and Jasi was forced to raise his head to see who it was.

Sir Beren Kuik, the veteran knight with the weathered face and the saddest eyes Jasi had ever seen on a man or woman —and he had grown up around slaves, turned on the saddle to better perceive the eunuch. A gloved hand holding the reins, the other resting on the pommel of his longsword.

CAW!

A displeased crow croaked hidden somewhere —it could have been Bob and right after Beren asked with a deep rustle, without playing with the words.

"Who was he? The man you met."

Jasi grimaced. "He works for me."

Beren nodded and then stooped to examine the eunuch's nervous face. "He came from the river. Might even be, from the capital itself," the knight noted hoarsely. "What did he say?"

"It's for the Queen to hear," the eunuch argued and he'd a nervous tremor in his left leg, despite having it planted on the soft ground.

"Um," Beren murmured and stood back. "Not everything is, eunuch."

"Let me through Sir Beren," the scared Jasi warned him, mustering all his courage. "Or I'll scream."

Alright, it wasn't the bravest or dignified of retorts, but any dignity Jasi had ever possessed had been lost in his youth. It wasn't so much the fact that he'd been cut open by a sharp blade, or that the first free person Jasi had ever met was the monster holding the gelding knife, but the realization he had to whore himself to climb up the slave-ranking ladder, faster than the greedier and more-qualified girls surrounding him.

The tensely staring at the knight eunuch, didn't even savor the taste of cock and if he could survive that, Jasi could survive anything.

Whatever Beren saw in the eunuch's penciled eyes made him back off.

Jasi entered the Queen's tent and found Katelyn talking with the two bodyguards inside the anteroom. The young pirate standing the closest to the austere royal maid —caught in a mirthful mood for the second time in a row— was Vernon Vossler, Lyndon's younger brother, and his friend 'Smoky' Wyler. The latter had just finished talking, when the upset eunuch entered.

"Doesn't one need to be a musician?" Katelyn asked in response to his words and Wyler nodded with a silly grin.

"Eh, I wouldn't go that far," Vernon argued, probably shook at the maid's reaction to whatever had been his friend's wild claim, with the alarmed Wyler cutting in to stop him from derailing his chances.

"Forget about Vernon milady for I could be one," Wyler assured the smiling Katelyn with a small pause, afore adding knowingly. "Fer you."

Oh, for crying out loud!

"Has the Queen retired?" Jasi snapped, wiping the smile from the maid's face.

Katelyn stared at him frostily. "Her grace is writing a letter to be read to Gust and little Reinut."

Probably by Erfan, the Cofol courtier of letters Jasi had installed.

"Return to your posts," Jasi ordered the two young Blood Raiders and then went to speak with the Queen.

Elsanne was seated on a divan beside a small round table and she halted her writing on the scroll as soon as Jasi walked in. The tensed eunuch removed the blanket around his shoulders and tossed it into a basket filled with used garments for the maid to collect, all under the watchful gaze of the young Queen.

Sensing something was amiss Elsanne carefully wrapped the quill in a cloth, set it beside the scroll, and then secured the lid on the inkpot. Before her stood an unusual table lamp, casting a bright glow within the spacious tent.

"A lightstone. One of five," the queen said, beaming pleased. "For each god. A gift from King Garth for little Reinut and the queen of Kaltha. You just touch it softly, and it emits light. It's real Magic, Jasi."

Jasi nodded in understanding, although he was more apprehensive with the elusive Zilan ruler and had no idea whether this trinket was real magic or not.

"It assisted us in our writing," Elsanne added eloquently, using that uncanny ability to emit sympathy from her audience, her smile widening.

"They won't understand your words," Jasi said measuring his words, searching for a way to convey the news. "Neither Gust nor Reinut."

"One day, they shall and it will give them great solace," Elsanne replied. "For now though, it offers solace to us."

Jasi nodded and went to sit at a stool before a large mirror. He checked on his ruined makeup and sighed at the mess of a person looking back at him.

"You talked with De Braal," Elsanne said perceptively and stood up from the divan to approach him. "What did that brute say?"

"Nothing I can't handle, but it was speaking with one of Mirte's associates that has me so disturbed," Jasi told her, kissing the top of Elsanne's right hand. The Queen had used it to caress his cheek.

"Your little nymph," Elsanne noted sarcastically.

"There's one in every court," Jasi deadpanned. "Be that as it may, our Mirte may have discovered a way to strike against Pourem, but perhaps we should take a breather at this junction, your grace."

"Why?" Elsanne queried. "The Baron got to you? I know he was against us coming here."

"Pourem has been killing hostages."

Elsanne narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Each day. Citizens, prisoners. Random people, plucked out of a crowd by a slaver named Kanta. They are brought at the Barbican, stabbed and then tossed from the walls to crash on the ground."

"Uher's mercy. Why?" a pale Elsanne gasped, a hand touching her chest. "Who knew?"

"Everyone around the army camps," Jasi replied. "The Baron denies it, but I believe it might have played a reason in having Thomas killed."

"Just stop this Jasi! Mister Meyer lost a duel," Elsanne argued, standing back to process the news. "A stupid practice. These ill-advised games boys like."

"Jade Eyes, you are mistaken. This was an execution. It had nothing to do with games," Jasi insisted, but seeing the Queen distraught decided to drop it.

"Is it desperation?" Elsanne asked with a shiver, then clasped at her forehead with a hand. "How long has this atrocity being going on?"

It is well-documented that with the first droplets of snow, or sometime before it, and for certain in the penultimate month of the year 195 NC, Queen Elsanne arrived at the army camps outside of the capital. Viscount De Moss received the Queen's entourage and Duke Rik De Weer was ordered to return from Chinos River's blown up Mid Bridge. A similar missive was dispatched to Commander Desmond Boss, but the Castalor businessman couldn't arrive that same day.

In the meeting that followed, Elsanne berated the lords in command for mishandling the siege and Pourem, which probably wasn't received well by the Duke, who famously uttered that the Queen's presence 'offered little to the situation' and just made their task even more difficult. Elsanne wanted to setup a meeting to talk with Pourem personally, but no consensus was reached. It is possible, Duke Rik had already in mind to strike at Pourem's supply lines via the river that winter and didn't want to alert the defenders or even negotiate -period.

Elsanne disagreed, which made the Issir lords nervous, since they feared the despaired at the sight of corpses Queen could be convinced to drop the siege altogether. While the army wasn't ready, or sufficiently provisioned to deal with Pourem, retreating would have been catastrophic for their prestige and created what historians described as 'deleterious apathy', a lull in hostilities no one would be interested to break, after it was implemented. Also an undeclared truce favored Castalor, who while it had received no monetary compensation from the Queen, it had gotten a lot of lands in return and with its heir injured, wanted the hostilities to end. It wouldn't favor Scaldingport, since the Duchy had been mobilized –forgoing a harvest already- very far from its natural supply lines and Duke Rik wanted to finish the siege even more than the Queen, to avoid having to try it again come next summer.

Several battle plans were deliberated, but nothing that could end the siege quickly, until the Queen irate at the callousness displayed by the Issir Lords —mainly from Scaldingport, ordered the more-accommodating of the bunch, Viscount Ard De Moss of Rusted, to arrange a meeting before the walls of the capital with general Pourem. Rik initially left the meeting in order to return near the troops and machines camped near the river banks, and the insulted Queen had to be calmed down. Jasi, an Eplas eunuch of dubious origins, managed to convince the young Duke to postpone his attack, but it is unknown whether this delay leaked their plans to the Capital, as with spies present in both adversaries' bunched together camps, the latter fact was almost unavoidable.

-

The sky had a strange mauve color and the breeze chilled Jasi's bones as they waited before the imposing walls of the capital. Standing at the edge of a natural incline between the rivers, the west walls rose sharply from the ground in a straight line, before curving gently to follow the river's banks to the north. While the Barbican at the main gates was the strongest of the fortifications, it was the high tower behind the west corner —the tallest point overlooking the fields, which presented the biggest problem for an attacker. Pourem had three catapults installed at the top there, which had forced De Moss to stay well-beyond their reach and all but nullified the Issirs own siege engines. The Viscount had to approach away from the corner, bunch up his machines at the center, in order to fire against the Barbican.

The latter had its own machines firing back at the attackers —again having over twenty meters of reach advantage, which needed the assaulting general to have many more machines than what De Moss possessed, or the willingness to receive plenty of casualties during the protracted exchange of projectiles, until eventually a breach was created.

Finally beholding the sturdy walls from up close, the eunuch was uncertain whether that was even possible.

Jasi grimaced, and cast a glance at the silent Elsanne waiting on top of Fiend. The large dark-grey warhorse belonging to late Sir Mael Bolte snorted loudly, which made the scowled De Braal grimace. The eunuch turned his eyes back towards the road crossing before the junction heading for the two larger adjoined camps and a group of men marching towards Reinut's Bridge.

A mercenary sergeant leading them ordered a halt as some of the men had fallen behind, mostly to gaze at the Queen's entourage waiting before the walls —outside catapult's range, and the man walking next to him clutched at his disheveled head with both hands in despair.

"It doesn't matter Sergeant Basin," he griped as Jasi watched their exchange from afar. "They can follow after us at their own pace!"

"Their own pace!" Basin bristled shoving the men back into their lines. "They signed a blasted contract 'Hardwood'!"

"Sergeant," one of the recruits said standing firm on his legs. "I didn't. I was heading to the market and this man grabbed—"

Basin abruptly landed a right punch to his throat that cut his words short. The young recruit doubled over with a croak of pain and the sergeant kicked him towards his petrified colleagues.

"Ha-ha!" Hardwood guffawed nervously. "It was an understandable reaction by our good sergeant! I showed him the papers obviously!"

"How was it understandable?" One of the recruits protested. "He punched him in the throat! Look, he can barely breathe!"

"No… he didn't. And he's fine," Hardwood retorted, playing it down. "Even if he did and I missed it, Basin is under a lot of stress lately, given what happened to his friends."

"Wait. What happened to his friends?" The recruit asked curious. "And how is punching him excused? He hadn't signed the contract?"

"Get back in your line soldier!" Basin barked irate.

"Gentlemen, we are creating a scene," Hardwood told the recruits. "The Queen is watching us."

"It's a legitimate query, Mister Johnny," another protested, much to the sergeant's chagrin.

"No it isn't," Johnny 'Hardwood' scolded him, in a fatherly manner. "What this is in reality, my friends, is the rare opportunity to serve with a famed outfit and get paid good coin for it! See the realm and live life to its fullest! Yep. So rejoice, for you have joined the soldiers of fortune brotherhood!"

"Enough of this! Resume marching to the camp you lazy dogs!" Basin barked clenching his jaw —the insult rather timely, and Jasi noticed the sergeant was missing an ear, the nasty scar marring the left side of his face.

"The Khanate lackeys are coming out. Evert, Heb, get them swords ready for any shenanigans," De Braal ordered at that moment and the Eunuch turned around to watch the Horselord delegation approach. The man leading them named Norem, one of Pourem's lieutenants.

A nervous Jasi, standing about a meter to the right side of the Queen, glanced towards Elsanne and she gave him a reassuring nod. The eunuch breathed out and then returned his attention on the Khanate officials. Norem had been the one to the take task to speak with the Issirs and De Braal moved out of their group mimicking the Horselord, to address him in a curt manner.

Jasi furrowed his plucked eyebrows surprised, upon seeing the resolute mounted Khanate officer come to view.

"Since the Vizier couldn't make it," the Baron grunted stiffly. "You'll speak with the Baron of Hunter's Cot."

"I pay my respects to the Khalifa of the Issirs," the Horselord said with a brief glance at all of the mounted men present, before he settled his gaze on Elsanne. Jasi blinked recognizing the Horselord and made to speak, but he didn't want to blow up the meeting, so the eunuch forced himself to remain quiet. "But our answer remains the same."

"Murdering civilians must cease!" De Braal rustled, twisting his mouth. "Else your criminal acts shall be met with similar reprisals. Pourem couldn't show his face, because there's no defending his actions!"

"How is killing a man under the flag of truce less criminal?" The Horselord retorted, raising a brow recognizing Jasi's constipated face next to Elsanne.

"We understand your herald had signaled for the execution of innocents," Elsanne intervened speaking in the Horselord's more brass tongue. A variation of the Common, influenced by the Imperial Zilan language. "It made him a combatant. The Duke was justified in his actions, but we regret it came to this. Even so, what Pourem does is beyond the pale. Stop this madness, and let us find a solution."

"Um, what about Prince Radin?" The Horselord asked her and Jasi twisted nervously on the saddle in an attempt to inform Elsanne about his real identity, but the Queen was staring straight ahead.

"The prince was killed in battle," Elsanne retorted in a controlled manner. "It is cheap rhetoric to equate the two."

"Cut into pieces, skewered still-living on a post and fed to vultures," Pourem argued. Jasi puffed out not expecting his words. "Your husband, Khalifa. You know his other wives. How is this more cultured?"

"This is not what transpired," Elsanne hissed, clearly swayed by his words. Jasi was uncertain whether the Horselord was being truthful or not. De Braal's stern expression could be interpreted in any number of ways. Not all of them good. "We are familiar with his wives and we know of General Pourem," the Queen continued after taking a deep breath. "He had left Dia Castle by the time we arrived, so we never met in person, yet his noble image adorned the castle walls, for he was a friend of the prince. I am not concealing myself, Vizier. Why the deceit? Why tarnish your esteemed reputation with such a despicable act?" she questioned him sternly.

"I have explained my motives," Pourem responded, pursing his lips. "Ultimately, a good general must be capable of fulfilling whatever he demands of his soldiers, without a moment's trepidation."

De Braal frowned, realizing that the Khanate general had been present all along, and cast a knowing glance at Evert Mossman, which the Queen noticed. Elsanne dug her heels in and urged Fiend forward, halting next to the scowling Baron.

"We are here to seek a solution," Elsanne informed him, then turned to regard Pourem, who was observing them with interest. "Cease this outrage now, and you are free to leave the capital – your men as well, or even remain with us if returning to the Khanate is not feasible. If that is your motive for this barbarity, then this is your chance to escape."

Pourem stared in the Queen's face in deep contemplation. "Bloodfang was correct," he eventually remarked. "Your bloodline is feeble."

Elsanne swallowed hard, and Jasi noticed her shoulders tighten.

"Withdraw your armies from the battlefield," Pourem instructed her. "Fall back beyond Uxrid's bridges, and your people will not meet their doom, Khalifa."

"You wretched son of a dog," De Braal growled, reaching for his sword, but Elsanne halted him with a firm hand.

"If you take another innocent life," she cautioned the stoic Khanate general. "You will die in this city and suffer a fate worse than that of the Prince."

"You are destined to lose this war, and this meeting has only solidified that truth," Pourem shot back, and although Jasi couldn't see Elsanne's face from where he stood, he could feel the intense fury simmering within the petite Issir Queen. "My destiny shall be written one way or the other by my hand, but yielding to you is not the solution. The men behind you understand this. You'll lose, if not to me, then to the Lord beyond Chinos River, or to another conqueror. Despite your claims, Khalifa, men do not fear you. Spare yourself the anguish, and retreat. Else, more people shall perish."

Elsanne stooped over Fiend's mane. "Then so be it, general," she hissed, catching the Old Crows and Jasi by surprise.

After the Horselords returned inside the city, the Queen left as well, the men following behind her in a much more pensive mood. On their way towards the bridge later that evening, the riding in uncomfortable silence Elsanne approached the shivering from the cold Jasi and whispered to him haunted.

"I fear, I've just killed all those people, Jasi."

Jasi wanted to tell her this wasn't true, but despite all his efforts to lie, he just couldn't. Because in a way she just had. Twelve perished that day, and the same number, each day after that.

-

Queen Elsanne shocked Pourem refusing to back down outright. She also shocked her own Lords, who had feared that the sensitive princess they had watched growing up might fold under the pressure. The now grown up princess didn't fold though. Pourem, probably unconvinced about the Queen's true resolve went ahead with his campaign of terror. The mangled bodies of the capital's doomed population piled up before the walls of the gloomy city during the winter months. Soon the locals living around the capital heard about the massacre and their relatives blamed the Queen's attitude and actions.

Duke Rik De Weer would attempt to destroy Pourem's supply lines during the winter with a series of daring actions, but it was obvious that the army couldn't move against the walls before the summer. Even then, the assault would be costly.

While the Queen's army floundered outside the capital's walls, the situation deteriorated. An outbreak of cholera came during the last month of winter and it spread outside the walls. Duke Rik split the camps into smaller ones to combat the spread of the disease, but the murky flats before the capital's west walls were unsuitable for prolonged habitation by so many people and the bitter cold, coupled with the intense humidity, sapped the will of the suffering soldiers.

The majority of the army hailed from the Duchy of Scaldingport and soon they started complaining about the absence of their allies from the battlefield. Again the Queen was blamed, as she had given Duke Van Oord the easier assignment to appease him for the losses earlier in the war. Even so, Desmond Boss after another attempt to dislodge Mutobo, resigned to wait for the summer as well.

The Queen waited for Sir Robert Van Durren, but the latter had gone silent for months. On the first month of 196 NC and under heavy snowfall, Legio I under Legatus Merenda left Eagle's Nest. The new Baron of Forestfort, Axel 'Mudriver' De Weer, brought his newly created regiment of soldiers out of the massive castle to guard the bridge against the crossing en masse legionnaires, but an armed Regia delegation informed the worried Baron 'they were just passing through.'

A Forestfort merchant admitted years later that the sight of the numerous seemingly, well-trained Lorians, had stunned the local populace.

Baron Axel had to watch the legionnaires march across his lands under their crimson, tiger banners, for days. Merenda left Eagle's Nest with a full supply train and over five hundred fresh horses. Between the thick rows of bulky —under their winter clothing— legionnaires, and unbeknownst to the thoroughly impressed at the spectacle young recruits out of Forestfort, marched the old 'Eplas Foot' of Robert Van Durren. This fact remained a mystery for a full year.

Be that as it may, it would be another month and not until a group of mounted Issir soldiers under Captain Emil Nak out of Eagle's Nest, reached the east gates of the capital, and made contact with the roaming Mitch De Jaeger's rangers that the Queen realized something had gone horribly wrong with her orders. While Merenda was finally gone, Sir Robert was nowhere to be seen as well.

'I feel a profound sense of betrayal, an ungratefulness, from individuals I've handsomely rewarded,' the young Queen wrote to her comatose husband and the young prince in a series of letters not opened for years. 'Gone is the joy of the people and truthfulness I felt on Eplas and the isles. Ever since we returned, the lords are keeping things from me. They are plotting, scheming and wait for an excuse to turn against me. They fouled my wedding and they want to foul my reign as well. We won't give them an excuse, for once again they have underestimated us.'

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