They made camp on the second night in a natural hollow formed by ancient lava flows. Defensible, hidden, far enough from known patrol routes to risk a small fire.

Liam sat apart from the others, studying maps of Vor'esh that Gorath had provided. The intelligence was recent—updated within the last two weeks—which meant it was probably already outdated.

Vor'esh changed hands too frequently for static maps to be useful.

Current garrison: Unknown. Could be forty demons. Could be zero.

Current enemy strength: Unknown. Could be a full company. Could be a scouting force.

Current tactical situation: Fucked.

"Excellent strategic position," Zara said dryly, appearing from shadow to look over his shoulder. "I especially appreciate the complete lack of actionable intelligence."

"Gorath's reports say it changes hands every three to five days. The fortress itself is intact—both sides need it as a staging point, so neither commits to total destruction. But control..." Liam traced the position on the map. "Control is whoever held it most recently and hasn't been pushed out yet."

"So we might arrive to find demons holding, paladins holding, or both sides in active combat for control."

"Yes."

"And our plan?"

Liam looked up at her. "Depends entirely on what we find when we get there."

Zara's silver eyes studied him. "You know that's not a plan, right? That's improvisation that could get us killed."

"And it always works fairly well for me," Liam folded the map. "Krazax was about breaking a siege through psychological warfare. Dra'kul was about breaking attrition through decisive offense. Vor'esh..." He trailed off, searching for words.

"Is about something else," Zara finished. "Something you haven't figured out yet."

"Yes."

"She was quiet for a moment, then settled into a crouch beside him. "Can I ask you something, Lord Azra? Something that's been bothering me since Krazax?"

"Speak."

"Why do you do it? The speeches. The performances..." She gestured vaguely at him. "Most commanders lead through fear or discipline. You lead through... belief. Through making them think they can win when every rational assessment says they can't."

Liam considered the question. Considered what he could say versus what he couldn't.

"Because competence isn't enough. You can win every tactical engagement and still lose the war if your soldiers don't believe victory is possible." He looked at his hands—human hands that had killed so many in the past weeks. "The performance isn't for me. It's for them. For soldiers who've been told to hold impossible positions with insufficient resources against an enemy that outnumbers them."

"So you give them something to believe in."

"I give them a reason to keep fighting." He met her silver eyes. "Whether that's belief in me, belief in themselves, or just belief that the next battle won't be their last—it doesn't matter. As long as they keep fighting."

Zara was silent for a long moment.

"That sounds lonely," she said finally.

"It is."

Zara stood, preparing to return to her watch position. But she paused.

"For what it's worth, Lord Azra, I think you're more honest than you realize. You don't promise easy victory. You don't claim divine intervention will save us. You just... show up. And that's enough." Her lips quirked in something almost like a smile. "Maybe that's what gods actually do. Not miracles. Just presence when it matters most."

She vanished into shadow, leaving him alone with maps and doubts and the weight of five more outposts.

[Zara - Belief: 42% → 58%]

[Loyalty: 67% → 79%]

The numbers climbed. Another commander who'd decided the myth was worth following, even if she didn't fully believe in it.

Or perhaps because she didn't. Because what she was following wasn't a god, but something more tangible - a force that appeared when everything else had failed.

Liam looked at the map of Vor'esh, at the tactical nightmare awaiting them.

Five more outposts. Five more chances to maintain the performance.

Five more stages where the line between what he was and what they needed him to be would blur a little more.

---

They reached Vor'esh on the morning of the third day.

The first sign that something was wrong came from the smoke.

Not a single column like at Dra'kul's destroyed forward base. Multiple fires, scattered across the approach routes. Recent. Still burning.

"Combat," Koth said quietly. "Within the last six hours."

"The question," Zara added, appearing beside them, "is whether it's over or ongoing."

Liam studied the fortress through the Cognitor's enhanced perception. Vor'esh sat on a strategic rise—good lines of sight, defensible approaches, strong walls. The kind of position both sides would fight to control because losing it meant ceding tactical advantage.

[Tactical Analysis: Active Combat Zone]

[Demon Presence: Confirmed]

[Radiant Empire Presence: Confirmed]

[Current Control: Disputed]

"They're both there," Liam said. "Fighting for it right now."

"Then we have a choice." Koth's molten eyes reflected the distant fires. "Enter combat while both sides are engaged, or wait and see who wins."

"If we wait, one side consolidates and we face entrenched defenders." Zara's analytical mind was already calculating. "If we enter now, we face chaos but potentially tip the balance."

"In whose favor?" Torrgh asked. "Do we help the demons retake it or help them hold it?"

All eyes turned to Liam.

He studied the fortress, the scattered fires, the distant sounds of steel on steel carrying on volcanic winds.

Made his decision.

"We help if our soldiers are losing," he said. "We're not here to be convenient, we intervene only if necessary."

He drew Igar's Shard, the black blade drinking morning light.

"Let's go find out what kind of hell the Meat Grinder is."

They moved toward the fortress, toward the smoke and screams, toward whatever fresh nightmare awaited in a place where control changed hands so often that both sides had stopped burying their dead between assaults.

The combat raged, soaked in the blood of a hundred exchanges, demons and paladins killed each other with the weary efficiency of actors who'd performed the same play too many times to remember why it mattered.

Liam would remind them.

One way or another.

[Objective: Secure the Meat Grinder]

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