Lukrut watched the red haired woman’s glowering face, the moment of her resolve. ‘I’ll buy you time… just go.’ She never said a word, but she wore the face of someone that had said the same exact thing when he was younger and dumber.

“Goddamnit…” He cursed when she put her back to him, he reached for his sword, ‘Go with her! Go on! Coward! Trash!’ He cursed his unmoving feet, but even as he cursed himself, he knew it was futile. She was already doing what she had to do.

‘All you can do now by going out with her, is insult her one more time.’ He knew it, and spun around to run into the forest. The fading cries of Brita, her victims and her killers were swallowed up by the storm and distance alike as Lukrut and the survivors vanished into the darkness of the forest.

When morning came on, Prince Barbro could only stare in mute horror that was contained behind a mask of rage, dozens more dead, but that was meaningless, what really mattered was the lost supplies. ‘A village. A goddamn village…’ The throne looked farther away than ever before.

‘At least we didn’t lose the ladders we built.’ He thought and turned his head when he heard someone call for him.

“My Prince, we’ve recovered three bodies, two humans and… a goblin.” A trio of soldiers lined up and knelt beside the dead they dragged over.

Barbro could barely believe it, he chewed on his tongue and looked down beside the kneeling soldiers. They weren’t wrong. A human female, a human male, and a goblin. “What kind of… what kind of armor is that?” Prince Barbro’s instincts for equipment were sound at least, and he knelt to touch the leathery covering over the woman’s breast.

It screamed ‘expensive’.

“How could mere peasant trash have… this? Why are there goblins and trolls, and… it just doesn’t make sense!” Barbro’s fingers ran over the dark armor and noticed something else.

“Give me your sword!” He snapped and held out a hand.

“S-Sire?” The soldier startled, snapping his head up at the unexpected order.

“Your sword, idiot!” Barbro demanded and flexed his powerful fingers.

“Ah, yes of course!” The young soldier drew the steel and handed it to his Prince.

Barbro took it by the hilt, stood up over the woman, held the blade in both hands, and began to drive the tip of the sword towards her gut. The armor gave, but the sword didn’t pierce. He thrust again and again and again as if he hated her personally, the red haired woman’s corpse however, did not suffer another wound.

“Damn it.” Barbro cursed. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” He began kicking the corpse of the red haired woman that lay at his feet. “How’d you do it! How’d you do it?!” He shouted at the corpses as if they could speak, the sun was slowly drifting through the vanishing clouds and it caught the faces of the dead. They were peaceful, all of them. It made the Prince hate them more.

“Strip the corpses and bind them to long stakes.” Prince Barbro ordered, “Let them enjoy a little visual about their action last night, the walls fall today. Oh, and… bring her armor to me. It’s unthinkable that peasant garbage should have better armor than the Prince of Re-Estize.”

He then returned to his tent.

Enri was walking the wall with Nfirea and Ninya first thing in the morning, which was why she was among the first to see it when the army began to advance again. The wings of the army arrayed against her village began to spread out, just like Peter and Ninya had suggested they would try to do.

But what no one had said, was what lengths the unknown leader of the Kingdom Army would go to in order to terrify the people of Carne.

Nfirea and Ninya and she squinted at first, it was a cross of some sort, but what was on it wasn’t clear at first.

Not until the rehorsed enemy commander began to draw close.

Not until they saw the red hair.

Enri’s eyes began to well up with tears, her hands drew up and covered her mouth, her fingers trembled with shock.

“Oh no…” She whispered.

“Have they no mercy… even in death?” Nfirea uttered as he looked on.

Peter’s jaw clenched tight and he sucked in air through his teeth. There, bound to the cross by ropes at wrists and ankles, was the naked corpse of Brita.

“Surrender! Or this will happen to all of you!” The Prince called out. “Your little raid failed! Everyone is dead! This is just one of them! We sure had fun with her first! She just kept screaming how sorry she was!” Prince Barbro lied to the wall. “Was that to you?! Was that to me?! Come out here and ask her yourself!”

Enri began to shake, she leaned forward and began to breath harder and harder. Her hand fell on Nfirea’s shoulder.

And all that carefully constructed plan… it was forgotten in an instant.

“Attaaaaaaaack!” Enri screamed the order with rage she hadn’t felt since soldiers mocked her hopeless effort at saving her sister’s life.

Behind the wall, the sally call was echoed with a roar of confidence. Riding high on yesterday’s victory, driven by a sudden rush of hatred that took the place of terror, people rushed into place, the gate opened, and the trolls began their charge.

Enri snatched up her banner as Peter, Ninya, and Nfirea rushed after her. They grabbed the nearest horses and flung themselves into place.

‘This is either a terrible idea, or a really good one…’ Ninya thought as she slung her leg up over the saddle. ‘Master’s leveling might not have changed me much… but it’ll be good enough to burn a few of these bastards!’ Lupu’s words hung in her mind, ‘If you just let it happen, you deserve whatever you get.’ The woman might have been a monster, but she couldn’t argue against it now. Not now.

Prince Barbro watched them sally out. “Remember, aim for faces! We can’t count on getting through their armor!”

The stampede was above and beyond what he expected, the trolls would pose a problem, and by all reports the goblins were kind of tough, but… he stopped, the couple on the horse holding the unknown banner… the blonde, she was holding up a horn. He furrowed his brow. ‘Are there more?’ He wondered just as somebody announced a threat. Sweeping in from the distance, a dozen or so rapidly slithering monsters. “nagas? Why are there nagas?” He felt a rising sense of terror, a sixth sense to danger that had let him survive countless times. He pointed toward the charging couple on the horse.

“Kill those! Fire your arrows, kill them! Kill them! Don’t let her use that!” Barbro shrieked, arrows flew from bows in a long graceful arc.

A blue light spread out from the man holding the reigns, and arrows bounced away. “Magic…” Barbro cursed, and the noise of the horn surpassed the thunder of the previous night’s sky.

It rang out over the land like it was calling all the world to battle.

Then… it was gone.

And a new thunder took its place.

Pounding feet. Barbro looked to his left, heavily armored warriors were advancing with halberds down in perfect posture.

Behind them, he caught glimpses of magic casters, and an arc of fireballs soared through the air, screams began as they erupted among his unwary formation.

“Cavalry! Cavalry!” Barbro shouted and pointed toward the advance on the left wing.

Horsemen charged, only for a howl to drown out their hooves as if it were one giant wolf… only for him to see them by the hundreds racing past the heavy infantry. “Goblin wolf riders…” And the massive wolves, nearly the size of horses themselves, tore into the throats of the poor dull beasts that men rode.

The whinnying scream of horses ripped from dying throats, and the blood of horses stained the churned up earth, the blood and screams of their riders were quick to follow.

“Attack! Stop them!” Prince Barbro ordered his army to advance and fight, his heart quivered and broke, his courage poured out the cracks, and he spurred his horse away. As his soldiers had nowhere to go but into the fight, they charged with determined shouts, the left flank crumpled almost instantly. The front which he rode behind, was not lasting long either. The strange armor of the raiders were not the only sets, angry and hateful faces seemed everywhere he looked.

The blonde woman holding the banner and sword aloft yelled her hatred after him, while at her flanks a pair of casters sent acid, arrows, and fire into a rapidly collapsing front. ‘I have to run! I have to live…’ Prince Barbro thought, all desire for the throne replaced by the desire for just one more minute of life. The thunder of his horse’s hooves underfoot was the only sound he wanted to hear, and little by little, the sound of fighting behind him began to fade away.

Peter watched with horror as the cross holding Brita’s body fell forward and landed in the mud. But before he could do anything about it, he had the living to contend with. Armed with weapons that orichalcum warriors would envy, protected by armor they could spend years searching for and not find the equal of, he cut a swath through the ranks of soldiers that defied imagination. Blasts of magic seared him with heat when it consumed those around him, sweat ran down his body like a river, he felt the blows of spears and swords from too many to count, but other than scrapes and cuts on his arms, his body, it seemed, was all but untouchable.

He smashed his shield out, and a scream resounded from someone whose arm Peter had just shattered. He spun and thrust his sword down, cutting off the scream without seeing whom he’d killed, his every martial art was in play, but the battle was over before it began.

The Army of Carne, backed by their unexpected reinforcements, was swallowing up the lives of the remaining forces of the Kingdom.

The foul smell of sweat, fear, and death hung in their noses, but it was a comfort to Ninya, seeing the oppressors crushed, hatred in the eyes of villagers who had fled before and did not want to flee again, offered strength and resolve. Not far away, trolls that found themselves surrounded, found the villagers they lived with, breaking up formations that should have brought them down. Impromptu formations allowed the trolls to advance while villagers fended off attempts at encirclement.

It was over in minutes.

Shouts of victory crashed over the woods, some of the defeated soldiers had obviously fled within, but were not pursued. ‘Let them die there.’ Enri thought, and raised her banner up for the entire field to cheer for.

Peter was flipping over the fallen cross to which Brita’s body was still bound. Most of the corpse was now battered and broken, that much was obvious as soon as he flipped the wood over to land with a red splash into the ground.

“Do we need prisoners, your majesty?” Peter asked, staring down at the once vibrant woman.

“No.” Enri answered.

“Good.” He responded.

“But we do need to chase down survivors.” Ninya added, “We should start checking the tents that are still up, maybe we can find something useful. We won this one, but Lupu told me that it doesn’t matter if you win a hundred battles if you lose in the end because you’re ignorant.”

“Fine, do that, I sent some wolfriders after the ones who fled on horseback.” Enri replied and jammed her banner into the ground. “My King, should we go see our people?” Enri asked Nfirea, who wiped sweat from his brow and gave her a weak, exhausted smile.

“Y-Yeah, let’s do that.” He said through heavy, worn out breaths.

Ninya left them to do that, while she herself went straight for the commander’s tent. She opened the flap and stepped inside.

“Please… please don’t hurt me! I’m not a soldier! I’m not! I’m just a whore! Please… I just don’t want to die…!” A crying voice shouted that Ninya would not forget in ten thousand years.

Ninya’s eyes went wide as saucers and she stumbled over, flipping the desk out of the way as she charged toward the sound in the back corner that lay curled up and hiding as best she could.

“Pleeeease!” Tuare cried out, thinking the noise was of an aggressor.

“Tuare! Tuare!” Ninya shrieked and grabbed the hands of her sister at the wrist, she twisted the woman around.

Tuare froze, ‘My name?! She said my name who is…’ the thought trailed off when the tantalizing voice touched a memory from another life. She let her hands come away from herself for reasons other than the tight grip she couldn’t hope to break.

Her tear filled eyes turned to the slender little face of the brown haired Ninya. Then Tuare’s lip began to tremble as she struggled to say real words, but none came out.

Ninya crouched down and drew her sister’s body into her embrace. “I’ve found you… sister… I’ve got you… you’re safe now… I promise you…”

Tuare lost all remaining reason, tightened her hold around her only remaining family, held her as if she were afraid Ninya would vanish, and fell to sobbing that was still going when Peter came into the tent an hour later.