Dear Ma,

Things are going well out here in the Vale. We’ve been travelling for several weeks now, and I just now had the chance to sit down and write you this missive. Captain says there’ll be a courier passing by our way tomorrow, and I’ll give this to him then. I hope you are well. When you go to get your rations, be sure to let them know your son isn’t just any soldier, he’s Fatih Karga! I’m a living legend, you know. Of course that doesn’t stop the Captain from working me like a horse!

Honestly this might be simpler if we had brought horses.

I’ve enclosed a few exotic Valer coins – the tokens without any markings or emblems, just shapes - as well as my most recent pay. Please, treat yourself to something nice. You deserve it.

Love,

Fatih

From the letters of Fatih Karga, Dated 243 YT.

243 YT: Etyslund, Three days after the execution of Marga Zelenko

“We have your men,” Luca said, slamming a hand down on the table. Cigdem, the captain of the occupiers, didn’t flinch at the gesture, but the soldiers flanking him did. Zoe Bari, still shaking when she tried to sit up straight following the near-death beating she’d suffered in Stepan’s library, just before the near-uprising of the previous day. Luca hadn’t seen Hilda, Aleks, or Kamila since then, and her worry for the three children of Marga was growing. But these soldiers seemed just as confused about the Zelenkos’ whereabouts as Luca was, and that, if nothing else, was a reassuring silver lining in all this.

“We have your men,” Luca repeated, “and they’re in a place that you’ll never find in time. You could kill all of us but your scouts would starve to death before you managed to recover them. So you are not in a position to be making threats. And I am establishing this rule now, so listen to me well.” She leaned in to the table, her face inches from Cigdem’s, so close she could feel his uneven breath, see the light bending and reflecting through droplets of his sweat. He smelled like death and powder. “For each Valer you or your soldiers kill, we will kill two of your scouts.”

“That doesn’t give you a lot of room,” Fatih said, grinning, sprawling over the edge of the table. Luca turned toward the bloody executioner, who leered back at her. “We kill three of yours and you’re all out of bargaining chips. Hmm…” He fingered the handle of his sidearm. “Luca, Kalai, and Parshir, yes?” He pointed at Kalai, then at Parshir. The two men flanking Luca each took a single step back. “You two just barely evaded me last time, and only because my Captain here felt it was necessary to show some mercy. I, for one, am happy to sacrifice a few to settle that score.”

“Fatih,” Cigdem growled, holding a hand out. “Stop.” He looked up at Luca, the small distance between them heavy with the fear and stress. “What do you want, in order for us to get our scouts back?”

“Wait,” Zoe cut in. It was the first time she’d spoken during the entire meeting – even when Luca saw Cigdem speaking quietly to Zoe, or Fatih drawling some inane commentary, Zoe didn’t respond. But she moved, shifted in her chair so she was closer to Luca, drawing her attention momentarily away from Cigdem. “You Valers killed some of our own, too. Plato Arap is dead. Kamila Zelenko killed her.”

“Kamila Zelenko isn’t here,” Luca said. “I am.”

“Etyslund needs to pay reparations for what they’ve done to our soldiers,” Zoe continued. “Kamila Zelenko needs to be found and brought to justice. She and her sister are both fugitives from justice.”

Fatih snickered a little. “And for that matter, you are too, aren’t you Luca?”

She held her tongue, ignoring Fatih, and turned towards Zoe instead. “We owe you nothing, and here is why,” she began. “You entered our village, killed one of our people immediately by collapsing his home on top of him. We, understandably, tried to defend ourselves from you. You responded by killing another. You then shot at several of us, including children. You hunted down another of us, you murdered her, and you made everyone in the village watch. You dragged her son to the front of your little parade ground and made him watch from only a few feet away as you brutally murdered his mother. And then you sought to make us all pay for the crime of objecting to the violence you brought us.”

Cigdem sat quietly, his arms crossed, throughout Luca’s tirade, while Zoe grew more irate, hands balling into fists on the tabletop, eyes narrowing in rage. Finally she stood up from her seat, pushing the chair to the side. “Don’t play innocent with us! You’re with Mirshal! You used this place as a hiding spot so that we wouldn’t be able to get to you without civilians getting in the way, and now you’re trying to pin that on us! Those deaths are on your heads!”

“I am not with Mirshal, and if I were it wouldn’t matter!” Luca snapped. “You have no right to come here, hold all of us hostage, kill us, and then claim it’s only a few you’re after, as though that makes it any better!”

“Mirshal is a dangerous cult dedicated to the destruction of –“

Luca did not let Zoe finish. “Mirshal is a small association of magic-users trying to keep the Desert at bay, and the only reason you see them for anything other than what they are is because you are a sun-blind Peristut!”

Zoe leaned forward over the table, hands grasping at Luca’s neck. “You, a Solist, going against the Emperor?” Luca pulled away, and Zoe’s fingers just brushed against her neck. Kalai stepped forward, while Parshir began to move around the back of the table toward Zoe, getting ready to restrain her. Luca glanced over her shoulder at the door of the half-ruined house, and wondered idly if she could make it out before Fatih shot her in the back.

“You’re worse than them!” Zoe shrieked. “You’re a traitor! Siding with killers! Soldiers of the apocalypse!”

“Enough!” Cigdem slammed a fist on the table, grabbed Zoe by the arm, and pushed her away from the table. She slowly settled into her seat, staring with burning eyes at Cigdem, gaze flitting between her captain and Luca, until finally she subsided and sat down, and Cigdem took a step back. Parshir backed away as well, toward the Valers’ side of the table. “Listen… Miss Buday. Let’s leave aside this topic for now and move on. Rather than tallying up our losses and demanding restitution, let’s discuss what we each want so that we can both get what we want.”

“We can’t just ignore the violence you’ve done here, you and your soldiers,” Luca replied, stepping toward the table again. “That is what we want – for you to stop, and lay down your arms, and leave.”

“And we want Mirshal. Since you seem so keen to defend them, perhaps you know where their other agents are in the village?” Cigdem reached under the table. “Or perhaps… you are one of them?” He brought his hand back above the surface and placed a heavy pistol there.

Kalai stepped forward and reached down toward the pistol. “Cut it out, killer, or you just might –“

Cigdem’s hand snapped over the weapon and pulled it off the surface of the table as his eyes snapped up to meet Kalai’s.

Fatih stood up in his seat and stepped towards Kalai, raising his sidearm in one hand and holding his other forearm parallel to the ground.

Cigdem raised his weapon, aiming at Kalai.

Fatih stepped into Cigdem’s line of fire, pressed his arm against Kalai’s neck, and shoved the man into the wall. Luca jumped, grabbing Fatih by the shoulders and trying to pry him away from Kalai, who struggled in Fatih’s grip.

Fatih leaned in and whispered into Kalai’s ear:

“I just saved your life. I own you now.”

Then he pulled back, twisting his arms and shoulders and throwing Luca off. She struggled to regain her balance, reaching into her mind for Eirchais. The Devotee responded, but slowly. I can’t do anything, he said. This place cannot see the sky.

“Threaten the Captain one more time,” Fatih sing-songed as he backed away, “and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“Fatih,” Cigdem said. “Sit back down.” He looked across the table at Luca. “Well, Luca Buday – are you or are you not a Mirshalite? I was under the impression that only Abrists could join their organization, but I suppose they could easily have brought you into their fold at the same time, given the resentment you harbor against the Invictus.”

“Me, a Mirshalite?” Luca shook her head. “I am more Solist than you. My fealty is to the living God, but yours is to a symbol and a council of warmongering idiots claiming to act in the name.”

Zoe slammed a fist on the table, gritting her teeth, sweat dripping from her brow. “You have no right to say that! We did everything we were supposed to! We did everything right! It’s your fault that everything went so wrong.”

“Our fault? None of this would be happening if you hadn’t come here!”

“We had to come here, Luca,” Cigdem said, holding out a hand to stay Zoe’s rage. “We knew that there were Mirshalites in this area.”

“And?” Luca exclaimed. “What right do you have? If you are hunting members of Mirshal, you have no right to do so in this territory, where you are not the rulers of the land. Bar them from the Empire, cast them from your lands, and we’ll gladly take them in and house them. You have no right to say otherwise.”

“You know that Mirshal is a dangerous, destructive group, yes? You can’t possibly believe what you’re saying about their goals – that’s pure propaganda.” Cigdem leaned back in his chair. “Either you’re one of them, or you’re covering for them for some other reason.”

Luca glanced over her shoulder at the door, and Cigdem surged up to a straight sitting position again, slamming his steel-tipped boot onto the floor. Luca jumped in surprise and turned back toward Cigdem. “I’m not a Mirshalite,” Luca said, voice shaking. “I just cannot stand here and listen to you tell lies about the dead. Mirshal may be your enemy, but it was you who made that so, not them. And what guilt did Marga carry?” Luca put her hands on the table. “She was just a kind old woman, who showed me respect when no one else would.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Fatih called out, tone song-like and mocking. “Spare us the sob stories about how she was such a wonderful person and did only good things and oh, all the villagers loved her, and everything was completely fine until you showed up.” His smile dropped as he spoke again. “No one’s that innocent, especially not you.”

Cigdem, grinding his fingertips into his forehead, sighed heavily. “There have been reports of Mirshal agents wreaking havoc in southern Gaurlante. They leave behind a wake of empty armor, twisted buildings, and dessication. Half those who escape from their attacks become Aether-touched themselves, and those who don’t are scarred by it. The Crescian Mirshalites especially have taken up arms in cooperation with the Adma and harried not only our soldiers, but our civilians as well.”

“And yet here you are in the north,” Luca replied. “Occupying villages and creating new enemies for yourself. As for the attacks – as I said, you have made them your enemy – should you expect anything less than a violent response?”

“This isn’t worth the time, Captain,” Fatih drawled. “Let’s just kill this bitch and get on with the hunt.”