"Again, yes, I'm angry about it," Vildrious fumed to Myrvaness as she hovered in his command tent in the late evening hours after most of the army had gone to bed after a hard journey. "I've told you that already!"

He sat next to his map table where he kept track of the various positions of his soldiers and his understanding of where Rohmhelt's forces were. Myrvaness, meanwhile loomed over it, her green eyes glowing while he responded to her latest prodding.

"You gave the Emperor sound advice and he ignored it. The result was a loss of precious resources and embarrassment," she repeated the point she had made, in various different terms, for at least half an hour. "You should be furious, indeed incandescent, over that and yet I sense resignation in you."

She reached out and grasped his skin, sending a simultaneously electric and icy prickle through his body that left him unable to move. His muscles all froze in place. Every inch of his skin burned. All he could think of was the pain. It crowded out every other thought. Tears welled in his eyes from the agony. It was so much worse than any other time she had so grasped him. As the seconds ground on, each feeling like minutes, he almost wanted to beg for death, but his lips couldn't move, either.

At last, she released him and left him to collect himself.

"The entire point of everything we want for you is to avoid this sort of sniveling and acceptance of the absurd. It is so pathetic," Myrvaness scowled, her voice carrying a sting to it that he hadn't felt before. "Forynda wants you to simply embrace things as they are and be happy for the opportunity. What I have always wanted is for the worthy to rise and for the unworthy to be struck down. Virtually no one in a position of power in this whole world is worthy of their stations."

"Be that as it may," Vildrious wheezed, only barely beginning to recover from her grasp, "it isn't as though I can just go up to the Emperor and tell him he's wrong. He'll replace me on the spot! He might even put Ventov back."

Myrvaness breathed deeply and released a frigid gust of wind that swept around the tent, causing Vildrious's skin to prickle.

"The first thing you said there, you clearly have not been listening to me. Emperor Duronaht is not an able leader. You know that as well as I do. My brethren know that, too, and they all have their own ideas about what should happen after him," she smirked. "Except for Parlon, I suppose. For whatever reason, he has affection for Duronaht and I do not know why. Point is, this present state of affairs will not continue forever. After all, what is it that Duronaht hopes to achieve, anyway?"

Vildrious struggled to keep up with all that Myrvaness laid before him and decided that the wisest course was to simply answer her question.

"To kill his brother and be the sole claimant to the throne of Methrangia, of course," the Grand Marshal sighed. "It's not terribly hard to..."

"But that would not end the war, not even close," the angel interjected. "Forynda's loyalists will go on and on and on. There is no escaping that fact."

"He'd continue to fight those forces, too, no doubt," Vildrious replied, cautiously trying to gauge where Myrvaness meant to go with this. "I don't think he's under any delusions on the idea that the war ends with the defeat of Rohmhelt."

"Is he not? He ignored your advice, sound advice it was, that surging to the river was a foolish idea with Cyrona present precisely because he thought he saw an opportunity to end the war," she leaned forward toward him and blinked several times while tilting her head to the side. "I think he has precisely that delusion."

"Well, I'm not abandoning my allegiance to him. He's my Emperor and as I see it the only rightful claimant to rule the Empire," Vildrious scoffed, not wanting to entertain the notion any longer.

Myrvaness, as always, was clearly not content to just accept what Vildrious wanted.

"Do you know how many powers preceded the Methrangian Empire? How many formerly great realms have come and gone since we created this world?" Myrvaness inquired with a mischievous lilt. "Twenty-five different kingdoms and empires and whatever else. They were all flimsy things, as is the current Empire. It has essentially disintegrated as it is. And even before this brotherly war, it was so unwieldy that the previous Emperor felt the need to divide it into three constituent kingdoms. Unflinching loyalty to such a thing is foolish."

"You're literally talking about treason!" Vildrious protested.

"You need a larger view of what is at stake here. The disposition of this rapidly putrefying corpse of the Empire is not terribly relevant," Myrvaness unflinchingly moved past his objections. "There will be a future beyond the Empire and you have to decide if you will try to help form that future or fruitlessly struggle against it."

He hadn't ever in his entire life considered the possibility that the Empire wouldn't last and almost every impulse in his mind rebelled against the idea of entertaining it. Almost every impulse. A dissident corner of his mind, however, danced wildly at the possibility of a future of boundless possibilities with the old structures completely melted away. Much as he had always benefited from them, helping form the new world would give him a chance to advance further. A great deal further. It was... no. It was too sudden. Far too sudden.

"I... I can't think about any of that. I just can't," he weakly continued his objections. "Right now, I've got to be focused on this offensive."

Myrvaness formed the slightest of smirks, her eyes flashing.

"Very well," she said in a light voice. "I will assist you on that front. There is a splendid little opportunity I identified to break this situation loose."

~

Now on the western banks of the Cersomin River, Emperor Rohmhelt received a briefing in his command tent from Grand Marshal Agrehn and Marshal Kordov. He always found the pairing of those two very strange. Agrehn with his graying hair, beard, and increasing number of wrinkles on his face came off as a fatherly figure to the precocious child that was Kordov. Agrehn wasn't short of pomposity in his own right, but he was downright reserved compared to Kordov, who preened more than a strutting bird.

The two took turns pointing to various dispositions of troops on the map of the region, with Kordov irritating Agrehn by not entirely correctly placing markers back where they belonged. Sometimes he was off by as little as an inch and sometimes much more. Agrehn, for his part, swallowed hard and kept his building annoyance down to an increasingly clenched jaw. Kordov seemed oblivious to his superior's palpable frustration, however, which amused Rohmhelt.

"The short version, Your Imperial Majesty, is that the angel Cyrona can't be in enough places at once to keep this front stable," Agrehn summarized the situation. "Crossings by Jagreth's beasts are rampaging in the countryside and we keep having to pull men off the front lines to deal with them. Some of the enemy's troops have also crossed the river either far to the north or far to the south. While we've dispatched forces to blunt those incursions, this can only last for so long. We're..."

"Stretched thin," Rohmhelt grumbled. "Yes, I understood that point."

Kordov pulled back from the table, his poufy dark blue green hair bouncing slightly as he did.

"I think we should try sucking them in on one of those, the northern or the southern crossings," he said. "We have to try to even up the numerical situation and that means bagging portions of their army. There's no other way of doing it. The best way to do that is to get them to overextend. Your Imperial Majesty's brother seems to have a lot of aggressive commanders, or he's aggressive himself. Whichever it is, we can take advantage."

Rohmhelt silently considered the notion, his eyes locked on the map, which looked increasingly grim each time he examined it.

"Grand Marshal, what do you think? Be candid," the Emperor asked. "Does it make sense to you?"

Agrehn shot quick glances between Kordov and Rohmhelt before answering.

"Quite so, with a significant caveat. Feigning weakness to provoke an enemy mistake is sound strategy, but I fear that allowing such deep thrusts into our lines could destabilize our front," Agrehn said. "If we fail to isolate and capture these incursions, we'll just simply have given up more ground for nothing."

Kordov shook his head and pointed to the various portions on the map where Duronaht's forces were already pressing forward, despite Cyrona's repeated efforts to keep them east of the river.

"As we stand now, we're following a strategy that'll simply mean we lose the war slowly. That's all it does. There's no possible way what we're doing turns into victory," Kordov insisted. Where his tone was normally more jovial, he turned so deeply serious now that it surprised Rohmhelt. "Yes, we'll have these reinforcements from Varanan and Osilintis when we make it back to Karmand, but those will be wasted if all we do is sit around and respond to everything the enemy does."

"You've got a point," Rohmhelt muttered, looking at the map and the daunting pressure his lines were under all across the country. "We keep playing for time under the idea that once we get back to Karmand we'll be able to consolidate and fight on favorable enough terms to turn the war in our favor. But what if we get into too weak of a position in the meantime?"

"Exactly," Kordov almost breathlessly replied. "We need to whittle down your brother's advantage, whether that's by the angels on our side or whatever else. I propose taking advantage of his and his commanders' aggression. He loves chasing perceived weakness and he keeps doing it. He clearly has this idea, if he's got you on the run, that must mean one more push done at the right time will do you in."

"That definitely sounds like Duronaht," Rohmhelt let out an uneasy laugh. "Agrehn, do you have an alternative proposal? If not, I'm inclined to give my blessing."

Agrehn's brow furrowed as he glanced at the map. He pressed his lips up against his nose and breathed deeply for several seconds, even closing his eyes at one point. He then looked at the Emperor.

"Nothing with a greater chance of success," he weakly conceded.

"Very well. Marshal Kordov, proceed with you plan," Rohmhelt swiftly pivoted toward Kordov. "See me again in an hour to let me know all of the details."

"I'll do so, Your Imperial Majesty," Kordov happily bowed, his poufy hair again swaying forward and back, and left the tent.

Agrehn stayed standing where he was and folded his hands behind his back. Rohmhelt feared what the Grand Marshal intended to say next and braced for it. The tension radiating from Agrehn was overwhelming.

"Your Imperial Majesty, may I speak freely?" he glumly inquired.

"Of course," Rohmhelt answered, wishing he'd said otherwise to avoid the drama.

"I've come to understand throughout this conflict that I don't possess the grasp of war that I hoped I did. Others have a better inherent understanding of it."

"You've served me very well, Agrehn, and I couldn't ask for a more able Grand Marshal," the Emperor replied.

Agrehn formed the faintest of smiles, but it almost instantly faded.

"What Marshal Kordov said is true, however. I haven't been able to devise a strategy since the Nehal River that has even had the possibility of changing the course of the war. I therefore offer my resignation," he said, avoiding meeting the Emperor in the eyes. "I understand it comes at a difficult time and..."

"You can't be serious!" Rohmhelt simultaneously gasped and laughed. "Bad timing doesn't even begin to describe it. If you're having this crisis of confidence simply because I sided with Kordov here, I don't even know what to say."

Wincing, Agrehn at last summoned the courage to look his Emperor in the eyes.

"It's not as simple as that. I don't think it's right for me to continue leading the army if I'm not your ablest battle commander. There are others, not just Kordov, who are quicker in responding to new problems, who think about the larger situation better than I do," Agrehn gritted his teeth and shoo his head. "My talents are best confined to logistics."

Rohmhelt sighed at that litany of self-flagellation.

"I didn't know anything about war before this started beyond what I read in the history books. Father always had plenty of those around and demanded I read them. One thing that always stuck with me was that our armies have never been best-led by the wily battle commanders," the Emperor explained. "Those men always seem to get us in a lot of trouble. The best Grand Marshals, I always thought, were those who could keep the army organized and provisioned in the field. You've done that with mastery that I can't even begin to understand under circumstances harder than any that have ever been face. You ask me to accept your resignation as Grand Marshal and I reject it out of hand."

Agrehn looked at Rohmhelt, his face lightly twitching.

"Provided that I never hear this nonsense again," Rohmhelt continued, with a slight smirk.

Agrehn clicked his boots together and bowed, his various ribbons and medals clicking on one another as he righted himself.

"You won't, Your Imperial Majesty. I will continue to serve for so long as I enjoy your confidence," the Grand Marshal said in a quick clip before turning and exiting the tent.

Taking in and letting out a massive deep breath, Rohmhelt sat back down on a small wooden chair that unevenly rested on the ground near his map table. He glanced in frustration at the markers all over the map, understanding why it was that Agrehn may have suddenly been eager to be relieved of his duties.

Oh, if only it were so easy to get away, Rohmhelt thought. What I wouldn't give for that.

~

Empress Evinda had only just received another troubling dispatch from her brother Tujiv when Commander Dastov approached her during her tour of the northern positions. He wore a new dark blue cape with an intricate silver and gold trim around its edge and continued to abstain from more ordinary uniforms in favor of a red and blue doublet and black trousers. As always, though, he had that ornate black lacquered cane with him, even though he had no visible defect in his gait to correct.

"Your Imperial Majesty," he announced himself in his high raspy voice. "I'm unfortunately aware of what you just received and I wanted to express my sympathies for the continued losses in your lands. It must be very hard for you."

"Losses" in this case represented an understatement. Other than what she considered the core Adrenyk lands she inherited from her first husband, there was little of her territory left. And the losses her brother and his allies sustained were extraordinary. Either Selyn Kedholn had a keen mind for war or she had someone under her who did. Regardless, Omonrel's chosen lover was proving ever more formidable in that conflict.

"I appreciate the sympathy, Commander Dastov," she said, struggling to look directly at him while she contemplated the growing embarrassment. Tujiv had been right about that part.

"Unfortunately, my agents have reported from all across the Empire that this sort of thing is happening in ways grand and small. To preempt your question, no, it's not all going wrong and we are on the winning end of some of it," he said, his languid green eyes never seeming to change regardless of whether he was providing grim news or giving a perfunctory greeting. "It's not the easiest thing to piece together the evidence, but what I can gather suggests at least two hundred thousand soldiers and civilians killed since the new year in places that aren't our main front."

"Two hundred thousand?! Already?" Evinda gasped. "The campaign season's barely begun!"

"Oh, I'm aware," he coolly replied, his eyebrows raising. "As I suggested to the Emperor and you some time ago, this war has been destined to become disorganized, messy, and beyond ordinary control. We're deluding ourselves if we think that the 'main front' is what really matters. Grand set piece battles are all very interesting, after a fashion, but if you think that's how this will be decided, I'm going to ask you to brace for disappointment."

Evinda couldn't even begin to comprehend that level of losses. And with Jagreth's beasts increasingly set loose upon the countryside, terrorizing villages and towns loyal to Rohmhelt, it would only get far worse. Much as Dastov tried to remain apprised of important information, it would always necessarily trail behind reality.

"I'm tired of the feeling that everything's always falling apart," she fumed. Dastov didn't respond to that and instead just calmly watched her. "Even when I... when we respond, it's like bailing water out of a boat with a hole in its bottom."

"We remain badly outnumbered. Even with new allies coming in to help us this year, the angel Jagreth made sure to offset that with hordes of new beasts that exceeded even my worst fears," Dastov said, thrusting his cane into the ground. "We keep trying to fight something as close to a conventional war as we can and we're at a disadvantage on conventional terms. It's no small wonder you end up feeling the way you do."

She sighed, knowing he was building up to make a request.

"Just to speed this along, in the name of being a bit more unconventional, can you get to your request without your preliminaries?" the Empress barely hid her impatience with an awkward smile.

Dastov smirked and gave a slight respectful bow.

"I've respected the instruction to not make any more attempts on Duronaht's family, or Duronaht himself, for that matter. Before leaving that point, I want to mention that this gesture hasn't been reciprocated by Duronaht in the slightest, but I'll leave that alone for the moment," he said with a light note of disappointment. "However, I should think other targets would absolutely be fair. Senior command staff, lords and ladies supportive of Duronaht's cause, and so on. Especially in some of these more distant situations, I dare say it'd help turn the tide."

"By distant, you're including my own lands?" she asked, already well aware of the answer.

"Of course," Dastov tersely replied. "It's one of the largest of these more ancillary conflicts, but yes. And, because you seem to so clearly grasp what I'm thinking on this, I do have a target in mind on that front."

"Regardless of whether that would succeed, it would enrage Omonrel," Evinda pondered aloud, her voice trailing off as she looked to the northeast over the banks of the Cersomin River.

"I thought it was a possibility that'd come up, but there is value in having emotionally unstable foes," Dastov developed a sickeningly mischievous lilt to his voice. "They make mistakes, don't cooperate with others, and so on."

She glanced at her latest letter from Tujiv, which had concluded with the phrase, "Unless something changes immediately, I'll have to abandon all of your lands." The very thought clawed at her heart.

"And you have people in place to make an attempt quickly?"

"Yes."

The Empress looked at the letter again before folding it up and sliding it into a pocket on her dress. Dastov lightly tapped his cane while she deliberated, but he probably suspected that she had already made up her mind.

"Do it."