“Going out to fight directly is idiocy. You’re leading these soldiers to their deaths.”

  Frostclaw stared at Aven while buckling his vambraces, “Noted.” He kept preparing his armor.

  Aven glared back, “And that’s it?”

  “I’ve heard your opinion,” Frostclaw tightened the armor straps. “You’re out of command, Arvanius. I’m the captain here, and you’ll obey orders.”

  Aven grit his teeth. “Yes, I will. I’ll protect Etrani. But the soldiers that’ll be fighting and dying for this plan deserve better. They don’t need to die because of your arrogance. Don’t throw away their lives like that.”

  “You’re a fighter, not a soldier,” Frostclaw stood in full armor, mail hanging down as he tightened his belt. “You don’t know how legions work. Sergrud is one man. One man can’t stand against a full company. The Vulgares are a rabid mob, not an army. They broke and ran at the first sign of trouble. We’ll drive them out. That’s what the legions do.”

  “So, you’ve already made up your mind,” Aven said. “Nothing I say can change your decision, right? You’re that certain of victory.”

  Frostclaw nodded. “That’s correct.” He grabbed a helm and strapped it to his head, strangely shaped to allow a beastkin’s ears to hang out. It would have been comical if not for the deadly intensity in the man’s eyes. “And you, are you actually certain we’ll lose based on a rational evaluation, or are you just letting fear talk for you?”

  It wasn’t fear, or if it was, it wasn’t an irrational one. “They know their own territory. It’s hard terrain. Legionary tactics are best in open terrain, right?”

  “We’re not idiots. We know how to adapt to mountain and forest terrain,” Frostclaw said. “And we know Frostwood territory too. Some of my soldiers came from there. I can tell you the exact spots where the Vulgares might try to ambush us, and I can tell you exactly how we’ll counter them.” He paused, “I’m not going to tell you, because I don’t need to justify myself to you. We’re done here.”

  Nothing more to be done. Aven could only watch as Frostclaw went out to stand at the front of the gathered force. One hundred and fifty soldiers, fifty of Aven’s Hellfrost Legion alongside Frostclaw’s own reserve force. Townsfolk watched from the side, whispers in the air. Among the gathered soldiers, Aven saw many of his hunters. Katrin and Gretchen next to each other, standing just a bit closer than strictly necessary for the ranks. Katrin’s spirit Vili perched on her shoulder, faceless head turning fully around to look at Aven while sticklike arm waved. Not just the hunters; a number of the quarry workers were there too, drafted to fill out the ranks of Frostclaw’s attacking force.

  Wally glanced at Aven from their number, looking anxious. Aven tried for a reassuring smile, but whatever expression came to his face apparently wasn’t comforting to Wally. He swallowed nervously and looked away.

  “Warriors of Hellfrost!” Frostclaw’s rough voice boomed out. “We march to put an end to the Vulgares. Under Sergrud, they’ve murdered and stolen from our lands. They’ve sacked and pillaged Frostwood...aided by traitors to the Empire.”

  He nodded to the side, and soldiers led three men out. The captured Frostwood residents that Frostclaw’s legions had captured. Gagged, bound at the wrists and ankles, and dragged to the front of the assembly.

  All around, folk of Hellfrost gathered. From the path to the keep, Etrani approached the square, accompanied by Akra and a few others of those few left in Aven’s command to serve as keep guards. Even Etrani’s gait seemed defeated, slouched in resignation.

  Frostclaw gestured, and the prisoners were brought before him. “By throwing their lot in with bandits, these traitors have chosen their fates.”

  Etrani stepped to Aven’s side, eyes fixed on the captured Frostwood warriors.

  “This is wrong,” she whispered, voice low enough that only Aven could hear.

  Aven glanced to her, “You could stop it.”

  She closed her eyes, “...under imperial law, Frostclaw can now act as magistrate. Justice...is his to decide. And...they are traitors. The death penalty is...appropriate under Imperial Law.”

  “But you still think it’s wrong,” Aven said.

  Etrani said nothing, eyes fixed on the scene as Frostclaw gestured for three soldiers to approach, spears raised.

  “The sentence is death,” Frostclaw said, voice carrying out through the square. He nodded to the soldiers.

  Etrani didn’t speak. Her body tensed, fists clenched. She looked to be on the edge of saying something. Stopping this.

  She did nothing. She watched. Aven did the same.

  Frostclaw’s soldiers stepped forward and stabbed. Even through their gags, the bound men screamed. Blood poured onto the stone.

  Etrani closed her eyes.

  Frostclaw stepped up to the men and wrenched each of the spears out, “This is the fate of all who defy the Empire. Sergrud’s days are numbered.” He threw the spear to the ground, letting the bloodied tip rest at his feet, and turned back to the crowd.

  “We march to crush the traitors to the empire! We march to defeat Sergrud and the Vulgares once and for all!”

  Cheers rang from the assembled force, a roar of bloodthirsty fury. Frostclaw raised a fist, and the soldiers raised spears with him. Not all. Some few kept their eyes on the slain men. Wally was one, staring at them with horror in his eyes.

  “Take your courage and steel to the field!” Frostclaw’s fist remained raised. “To battle! For Hellfrost!”

  “To battle!” came the roar. “For Hellfrost!”

  Frostclaw turned and marched from the square. Chants rose from the soldiers, from the crowds, as the company of soldiers marched through Hellfrost’s gates, and out into the valley beyond. One by one, they marched out of sight, and the crowd’s cheers faded, leaving behind a tense quiet, and three dead men staining Hellfrost’s streets crimson.

  The crowd dispersed, some glancing at Etrani, though Aven couldn’t quite tell what their whispers were saying.

  “They were traitors,” Akra said softly. “They fought alongside the Vulgares. They may have killed legionaries defending Hellfrost. If they’d succeeded in breaking into the town, they may have killed our people.” She turned to Etrani, “They earned this sentence, executor. This is what Imperial Justice demands. It was a good decision to leave Frostclaw in command. The people of Hellfrost will see this and remember why the Empire’s strength is to be feared.”

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  Etrani didn’t respond, but her shoulders hunched. “Yes, Akra. That’s what the law demands.”

  “But you still feel it’s wrong,” Aven said.

  “My feelings...are not relevant,” Etrani’s hand clenched tight into her skirt. “Feelings are fallible. I am fallible. The empire, the law, the Ideals...they do not waver as I do.”

  She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself of the truth in that statement.

  Breton approached from the other side of the square, “Executor, my men are securing the defenses of the town. If we’re under martial law, it’s curfew and rationing. Can your lot handle the rationing?”

  “Yes, Captain Breton,” Etrani said, voice a little stronger. Aven could understand well. This was something she could do. Feeding her people was a task that could occupy her, that let her focus. That brought life instead of death.

  Aven followed her. Whatever outcome the battle brought, that was no longer his task. Now...now his responsibility was the keep and the few warriors still under his command.

  And he could only wait.

  * * *

  “Why do you follow Sergrud?”

  The ogress Mindspeaker couldn’t watch Esharah every minute of the day. And skilled though Mensikhana was, her Mindspeaker abilities were somewhat limited. She could reach out to others, hear their surface thoughts, even delve deeper with effort. She couldn’t touch their emotions.

  Esharah nudged the tempers within the Vulgares camp. Arguments over hunts. Resentment at the way different tribes were treated. Even isolated, even under Mensikhana’s mental blocks, she could find the cracks. There were dozens of minds already asking the question.

  “Why do you follow Sergrud?”

  Because he was the strongest. Because he defeated the previous leaders of the tribe. Because he represented a path apart from the empire.

  “What good is that path if it leaves you all dead?”

  “Stop that,” Mensikhana’s voice came into Esharah’s head, and the walls closed in. A second later, the ogress appeared in the hut’s doorway. Apparently, Esharah was enough of an annoyance to demand personal attention.

  “I’m not allowed to ask questions?” Esharah asked. “You’ve asked plenty of me.”

  For hours, Sergrud and Mensikhana had probed Esharah with questions. About Hellfrost’s defenses, the capabilities of its vis, the numbers of the former prisoners now fighting for them. And so on. Esharah played their game, mixing in lies, half-truths, evasions with the answers. Some, Mensikhana had caught. Not all.

  No reply from the ogress, only a twinge of discontent. Of fear. The walls shifted, and even those emotions disappeared.

  “Why do you follow Sergrud?” Esharah asked aloud.

  A long pause before Mensikhana’s mental reply came. “Because he is the only solution.”

  “To what problem?” Esharah asked. “How is Sergrud leading you to your deaths against the empire a solution to anything?”

  “You underestimate him,” Mensikhana’s reply came. “A warrior of his strength comes to a tribe once in a century.”

  “What?” Esharah frowned. A 3rd circle vis was powerful, yes. Not some unheard of legend. Even in Septentrion, frostbitten arse of the empire that it was, there were nearly a hundred of that level. It was only truly rare in a place as isolated as Hellfrost...

  Realization suddenly struck. Mensikhana was...young. Not a child, certainly, but still young. And the tribes of the north did not travel as those in Octarnis did. Their knowledge of the outside world was limited, and their education in the power structure of the empire was...limited at best. No wonder they thought Sergrud was invincible. No wonder they were terrified of him.

  “Mensikhana,” Esharah said gently. “Sergrud is strong, yes. But not an anomaly. Across the Empire...there are many warriors far, far more powerful. My sister of the 4th circle, and a thousand others like her. Above them, nearly a hundred have reached the 5th circle. And the few living among the empire who’ve reached the 6th circle...to them Sergrud would be nothing more than a child.”

  “You lie,” Mensikhana said after a pause. “Even when the great tribes were unified a hundred years ago, a hundred thousand strong, there was only one who reached the fourth peak. Whatever legends your empire claims-”

  “A hundred thousand? How many people do you think live in Octarnis?” Esharah tried to show her pity, not her amusement. There was no true humor in disillusioning someone with so warped a scale.

  “Even if you were a thousand-thousands it would not be enough for the tales you tell,” Mensikhana replied firmly.

  “A thousand-thousands...you mean a million.” The poor woman didn’t even have the language to express the sizes they were discussing.

  Uncertainty came from the ogress.

  “I don’t know the exact census number,” Esharah said. “Etrani could tell you the numbers precisely. But I believe the last numbering counted fifty million souls in the empire. Fifty thousand-thousands.” There came only a confused, disbelieving uncertainty from the other end.

  Words wouldn’t do anything further.

  “Let me show you.”

  Uncertainty again. Then, an opening, just enough to show images.

  Esharah showed her the city of Northstar. A city Esharah once called home, along the Whiterun River leading down to Lake Agenthus. Among the provincial capitals, it was nearly the smallest. And still...

  Images of city streets, bustling with people and life. Ten thousand people walking the streets. At the center, a fortress that put Hellfrost to shame. Rambling, winding alleys that each held communities larger than all the Vulgares combined. Markets that brought goods from across the entire empire. Metals from the far western mountains. Golden wheat from the vast plains of Oxar. Gems from the far south, purchased from the Aivan desert and finding their way even to the northern reaches of the empire. And all this in one city.

  The journey from Northstar to Hellfrost, flown by Vestra. Even at the time, when Esharah was focused on the punishment awaiting her, the sight had been breathtaking. It had been the first time she’d ever really appreciated the vastness of the world. It was spring then, the snowpack giving way to green rolling hills, and mountains in the distance. The river a wide winding path, villages dotting the banks. And that had just been the Whiterun. A small river. It had fed into Lake Agenthus, the waters so large that Esharah couldn’t see the shore on either side.

  “Everything I just showed you,” Esharah paused to let it all sink in, “is only part of Septentrion. Of the seventeen provinces in the empire, it is among the least, both in land and in people. Perhaps the least of all in power. Would you like to see more?”

  Curiosity and awe overcame uncertainty. Esharah showed her more.

  Flashes of memories that Esharah had collected from across the empire. Aven’s home in Tenebras, on the edge of the cursed darkwood. A merchant she’d spoken to in Northstar hailing from the faewoods of Clarick, where trees spoke and nature spirits flitted through the trees like birds. Soldiers retired in Hellfrost who’d fought on the Frelundic front, where the legions clashed with giants, the earth quaking as vis of the higher circles clashed in battles that warped the landscape itself – all warriors as far beyond Sergrud as he was above a common warrior of Hellfrost.

  Vestra once had been to the capital itself, when she was only an apprentice dreaming of glory. Tarna, jewel of the empire. She’d brought back memories of the towering walls, the palace on the grand hill rising far above the city, surrounded by six similar hills, covered in temples and mansions and estates. The streets of Tarna paved in white marble.

  “In that city alone,” Esharah said, “hundreds of thousands of people live. And the capital is not alone in its glory. It is the greatest, but there are others like it. There are multiple cities in our empire with more people than all of what you call the great gathering of your tribes.”

  “H...how?” even speaking only in their minds, Mensikhana’s voice came as a whisper.

  “That is what it means to live in a vast nation as ours. To live with peace, order. With the rule of law. We live together. Trade with each other. Protect each other.” The last thought with a bit of a sardonic smile, “Ideally. We have our own evils within the empire. One man can still work great evil. Men like Yvris, or Erdrak...or Sergrud. But no one man could possibly challenge the empire. Do you understand the scale of what you are trying to fight?”

  Mensikhana went quiet for a long while. Her mind shut.

  Esharah opened her eyes to see Mensikhana staring at her.

  Perhaps fearing the mental connection, Mensikhana opened her mouth and spoke aloud for the first time. Where her mental voice was melodious, the sound that emerged from her lips was strained, rough, croaking as if every syllable brought pain. “I...cannot...trust your words,” Mensikhana said. “You speak...lies. You s-sow dissent, cause us to question Sergrud. I cannot trust...anything you say.”

  She withdrew, no longer responding to Esharah’s questions, mind closed off entirely, even physically moving out of the hut.

  That was fine. The world that Mensikhana believed she knew had just been shattered. She’d stepped from darkness into blinding light. She wasn’t ready to accept it yet. But Esharah knew that she could help the Mindspeaker see.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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