The aftermath of the battle was frenzied, celebratory, and full of mourning. It was hours later that Lukrut and the survivors of the raid made it back to the village, and when they did, the worst of the cleanup had passed. The bodies of the fallen were laid out in a tiered pyre of stacked wood with bodies in various layers. Enri, Nfirea, and the remaining Swords of Darkness members stood at the fore while villagers still bearing arms and blood stained armor bowed their heads.

The wind blew lightly as a mother’s touch over their skin, as if the world itself wanted to offer rare comfort to the bereaved. It wasn’t lost on Lukrut that the village fell into military lines, ‘Did they do that on their own, or were they ordered as such?’

He and his remaining numbers fell into place off to one side as Enri began to speak.

“I’ve never been more than a peasant and a farmer, not in my whole short life. But because the outside world came to hurt us… more than once, I’ve been called to be more. So has my husband to be, so have common adventurers. So have all of you. Today…” Enri held up the still muddy, slender golden crown that had fallen from the warrior who fled, “we defeated a Prince. They won’t forget that. They will want to erase us, erase their shame. And make us forget that our dead… ever lived at all. Today… on the fields of Carne, villagers became true warriors, and those who died, died to protect the lives of those they cherished. Say their names, while we send them to the skies and their ashes to the earth.”

“Nfirea, Ninya, go ahead.” Enri said and cast the muddy crown of gold on top of the pyre.

[Flame] Nfirea said, and a slow and steady flame spell gouted from his hand. Ninya did the same, and as the crackling of burning wood and the smell of burning flesh rose into the air, Enri saw the returned raiders and went to speak with them.

“I thought you were dead…” Enri said to the ashen faced Lukrut.

“Nearly. Brita sacrificed herself to buy us time to make it into the woods, from there the villagers with me guided us to safety. I guess we won, huh? So she didn’t die for nothing.” Lukrut swallowed the lump in his throat, but could do nothing about the trembling of his lower lips.

Enri felt the urge to comfort him, but instead she did her best to focus on business. “The Prince claimed you failed before fleeing with his survivors, before his defeat, he said that you all failed.”

“No.” Lukrut’s voice became predatory, his battered and bruised hand came up in a fist, “We screwed those bastards good. Burned most or all of their supplies, they may have run, but they’ll run hungry.”

Enri took that in with a silent, thoughtful look toward the direction of the escape. “We’re going to chase them.”

“Chase them?” Lukrut stared at her, aghast, “You’re talking…”

“War. Yes. Ninya picked up a lot of lessons from Lupu when she was here. We can’t stop now, we’re going to push them hard. I’ve sent out my wolf rider scouts, the rest of us will be chasing them down and leaving one in every ten of the army behind to protect the village. The Prince… he’s worse than we ever dreamed he was.” Enri shuddered, “Wait till you hear just what he has done.”

Lukrut did not wait as long as he thought, when the funeral had passed and the ashes scattered to the fields, Enri gathered her war council, with one extra member. A beautiful woman in a mockery of the clothing typically worn by Lakyus of Blue Rose.

“Lukrut, Peter… this is… this is my sister, Tuare.” Ninya said with a broken voice that made it obvious she’d been crying. The little brown haired magic caster held her sister tight against her body, one arm around her sister’s shoulder, only relaxing to allow Tuare to look at the rest of the table.

The greetings were muted and looks, distant. Tuare looked away from them a moment later. “Tuare,” Ninya said, “I know it’s hard, but… tell them what happened, as best you can.”

“If-if it will help.” Tuare replied, and related to the table how the Prince bought her ‘contract’ from an Eight Fingers agent and turned her into his personal concubine, how he changed her name to Lakyus and made her dress as the famed adventurer so he could pretend to abuse the real woman.

When she was done, Lukrut and Peter got to their feet. “What are you two doing?” Nfirea demanded when Tuare fell to sobbing into her sister’s shoulder once again.

“The Guild needs to hear this. We need to take her to E-Rantel.” Peter said immediately.

“Yes, that!” Lukrut snarled, “When they hear about this, the scandal will be horrendous. Blue Rose are national heroes, for the Prince to do this? No, this will help the cause tremendously. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a general strike by the guild.”

“A strike?” Enri asked.

“Yes,” Peter answered in Lukrut’s stead, “refusing to take jobs for anyone who supports the royal family. As monsters are always a problem, and the guild is the only one who can handle them. That’s as good as destroying some places.”

“Then go, take whatever supplies you need, but make for E-Rantel as quickly as possible.” Enri said with breathless urgency.

“But… I want to stay with my sister… I don’t… please don’t make me go.” Tuare said with a shiver.

Ninya nodded, “I won’t let her go with anyone but me.”

“But I need you to help with the army.” Enri said with a little frown.

“Then, My Queen… My sister goes with the army. We’re going that way anyway.” Ninya said with iron finality.

“But…” Enri said, then looked at the pathetic, broken face of the blonde woman, and then slumped. “Fine, she’ll travel with us, you two go spread word at the guild, tell them the proof travels with the rebels.”

“That will have to do.” Peter said.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure I tell them everything, it’s not like they don’t know us, chances are they’ll believe us even without her. Even if they don’t, the rumors will spread faster than a flash flood, especially when as promised, an army shows up.” Lukrut punched the surface of the table, “I’ll get more arrows, and then we’ll leave.”

“Good luck to you.” Nfirea said, and standing up, he thrust out his hand.

Peter, then Lukrut shook it, and the two former adventurers said in turn, “And to you.” Then they left.

When they were gone, the planning resumed until they were ready to march.

Prince Barbro wiped his face clean of mud and dropped his helmet. He kicked it across the ground, it bounced end over end until it came to a clanking halt against the armor of a soldier who had collapsed in place where they stopped.

The golden crown he wore was gone, lost in the retreat, most of his banners trampled in the mud, most of his soldiers… utterly lost. As for food, there was nothing but what a few quick thinking soldiers managed to snatch.

He was six days on the road back, forced march after forced march, harassed by wolfriding goblin scouts that killed any cavalry he sent after them… the sickening sound of the wolves’ teeth tearing into screaming humans and the dying whinnies of the horses unnerved the survivors, when finally a miracle occurred.

Prince Barbro knew he stank, and hated it, he knew he was filthy, coated with dried mud on his clothing, nothing looked good. ‘I’ll have to completely rewrite this story when I reach the throne.’ He thought, grinning more and more broadly as he saw the advancing in the distance. “Ha… ah hahahah! Yes! Yes!” His brother’s banner flew in the wind, and at its back was a force several times what Barbro himself left with. On any other day, that would have sparked jealousy, envy, or anger.

But now it was only relief. ‘With this I can finish those bastards, they won because they kept an army hidden and outnumbered us. With these, it’s at least two for every one.

With this… with this, I can win.” Prince Barbro said, and waved with a bright smile on his face of the sort he hadn’t worn for Zanac since boyhood.

“...It’s true! I swear it! Some of you met Ninya, in fact most of you did, it turns out… yeah, he’s a she. Who knew, right?!” Lukrut said from his place standing atop the table, murmurs of surprise and doubtful glances came from some of the adventurers and a few of the waitresses.

It was a rough and ready crowd in the guild, business had been a bit slow since the destruction of Zuranon’s enclave, but that meant more time for drinking, so drink they did. Rangers, warriors, thieves, clerics and casters, all manner of adventurers sat around and enjoyed the peace, until Lukrut called for their attention and told them what happened at Carne Village.

“So yes, the Crown Prince attacked to wipe out the place Sir Momon saved! And more than that…” Lukrut said, and when he was done explaining Tuare’s fate, the sister of an adventurer, used to mock one of the most well respected teams in the Re-Estize Kingdom, utter chaos ensued.

Voices bellowed and fists pounded tables, furious talk went against the Royal Family as Lukrut spun the story of destroyed villages and the survivors taking refuge in Carne, and he used all his bard-like skills to weave a tale of heroism among the villagers that fought back. The way the Royal Family’s forces were annihilated, the Prince routed, the new Queen of Carne arisen and a vengeful adventurer turned general in hot pursuit, it stirred the blood.

Ainzach listened with absolute dread. ‘I know Lukrut, he’s an unprincipled flirt… but he’s not one to make this up… neither is Peter… and there’s no way to be just ‘mistaken’. A peasant rebellion… what a thing…’ He approached the table where Lukrut stood winding down his story with wild gesticulations, telling about the death of Brita and how the former adventurer was mocked in death after her sacrifice.

More than one head bowed in silent remembrance of the spunky, red haired woman and the chances she had too often been denied.

“Lukrut… a moment?” Ainzach asked, putting a hand up on Lukrut’s forearm.

The ranger nodded, hopped down from the table with quiet deftness, and followed Ainzach up to his private office.

Ainzach sat at his desk and gestured to the opposite chair. Lukrut sat without his usual panache, the look in his boyish eyes, dead serious and unflinchingly focused on the portly, round faced guild leader.

“Would you put your life at stake over the truth of what you’re saying?” The plump guild master asked, and Lukrut did not hesitate.

“I did that just by telling you all what happened, and yes, I promise, every word is absolutely true. Brita is dead, the Prince renamed a forced prostitute of Eight Fingers to ‘Lakyus’, dressed her up, and abused her for gods know how long. He attacked and destroyed several villages, and tried to destroy Carne, the residence of Momon. As far as I know, the Prince is still retreating now, if Queen Enri Emmott and General Ninya haven’t caught up to him yet. Everything, every word, is true.” Lukrut insisted and placed his hands on the desk.

“Do you doubt me?” Lukrut asked.

“No…” Ainzach let out the breath he held, his heavy gut falling in regret, “I have to inform the other guild masters about this, we need a unified response to the royal family and all the other nobles. If we don’t, for all we know, Blue Rose may leave the Kingdom entirely, we can replace a stupid Prince, but we can’t just replace an adamantite ranked adventuring team, and even if we could, this is an insult to our entire profession that can’t be allowed to go unanswered.”

“And… the rebellion?” Lukrut asked.

“We stay out of that.” Ainzach shot back immediately. “As long as the guildhall isn’t attacked, it doesn’t matter what happens, we can’t be seen as Kingdom soldiers and we don’t want to be tainted with distrust for rebelling either.” ‘Though,’ Ainzach privately thought, ‘If a few trash nobles were wiped out along the way by this, I wouldn’t be shedding any tears of regret.’

Lukrut relaxed, “That’s… no, I understand.” The ranger tensed again for a moment, then stood up. “As long as you’re not telling me not to tell others, it’s fine.”

“No. I’m not. If anything… spread the fucking word.” Ainzach said and pounded a once mighty fist down on his table hard enough that from the point of impact, a spider crack radiated outward by several inches.

“Will do.” Lukrut promised, and made his exit back to the babble of the still dismayed commons.