“That is incredibly reckless,” Etrani said.

  Good, Aven thought. They were on the same page. “Aye.”

  Etrani looked to Ouron, “Sergeant mils Markius, do you approve of this...plan?” It looked as though calling it a plan was almost physically painful for her.

  Just as skeptical as Breton had been when Aven first conjured the idea, not really even serious at the time. Aven and a small strike force, sneaking out into Vulgares territory, rescuing Esharah and assassinating Sergrud. Just an idea, too ill-formed to call a true plan. Too many unknowns to form a plan. Where was Esharah held in Frostwood? They didn’t know. How to kill Sergrud? They didn’t know. What defenses would they face trying to sneak in? They didn’t know.

  Ouron nodded, “It is reckless. But a protracted siege is guaranteed to cost more lives. We know Sergrud is not above using underhanded means. I don’t know if we can trust Hellfrost’s walls to keep us safe from him. The longer this drags out, the longer he has to prepare another surprise attack.”

  “Captain Breton?” Etrani turned to the observer of the meeting.

  The captain hesitated. Godsdammit, the man needed to take a stand. “We can’t know the enemy’s strength. It’d be throwing good soldiers to their death to send a strike force without any idea of their strength or defenses. I couldn’t spare any of my soldiers on a suicide mission like that.” He shook his head, “The defensive strategy is good. Anything else is just added risk.”

  “So let it be us,” Aven pressed. “I’m willing to take the risk. Your lot think we’re all traitors anyway, right?”

  Breton frowned, shifting uncomfortably, “Some of them. Not all. But there is...mistrust.”

  “So give the ‘traitors’ the suicide missions,” Aven said. “Look, if we sit still and do nothing, then Esharah dies, Vestra vis Nightblood takes my head, and who knows how many more die in a siege. If we fail, same result. This at least gives us a chance for a better outcome than that.”

  “Except you’re dragging others to die along with you,” Breton said.

  “I’m not dragging anyone. Volunteers only. All vis. A small squad to travel light. Fight in the shadows,” Aven pushed the issue, knowing this argument could be the only hope left. “That’s our specialty. And if we succeed? We get Esharah back. We take out Sergrud. The Vulgares are finished, and we prove to everyone here that we’re still loyal to Octarnis.”

  The captain scoffed and shook his head, skepticism still written all over his face.

  “And do you have personnel in mind?” Etrani asked.

  Thank the gods, she was taking this seriously. Breton would shut up and fall in line if someone with higher authority overruled him. Always did. Etrani was the one he really had to convince.

  “I’ve got a few in mind,” Aven said. If there was one thing Hellfrost Legion held in surplus, it was desperate enough fools for a job like this. “Give me a couple hours, and I’ll have enough for a strike force.”

  “You have one already,” Ouron said.

  “What?” Aven turned to him. “Gods, no. You’ve got a wife and child waiting for you.” Plus only one arm, but Aven wasn’t going to bring that up.

  Ouron’s glare was hard as stone, “I’m a stoneshield. I fought an ogre stormguard and lived – a third circle vis. In all Hellfrost, there’s not half a dozen who can say that. Yes, I’ve a wife and child waiting for a home. A home that won’t be safe for them if Sergrud fel-Maies isn’t dead.” Ouron glanced towards the door, “...and I think I’m not the only volunteer you have as well.”

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  “A suicide mission? A struggle with only death or glory waiting?” Sunshine pranced in on cue, looking positively delighted. Apparently waiting for an opportunity just like this to inflict himself upon the meeting. “It would be an honor!”

  Etrani stared at the intruder, “And...who are you?”

  “Sunshine, at your service, madame,” the boy bowed low. “Traveller, songster, delighter of children, bringer of gifts, and chronicler of heroic deeds. Come to celebrate the Solstice with Hellfrost! The finest time of year, wouldn’t you say? The giving of gifts brings out the best in all of us! But how can we have a festival of Joy if under such villainous threat?”

  “You’re...a minstrel?” Etrani looked as baffled as Aven felt. “This will be a mission with vis only.”

  “Oh, I’m a vis too,” Sunshine said. “Second circle or thereabouts. Of all the gifts I can give this wintertide, my vis is the least I could offer.”

  Or thereabouts. As if someone could just forget what circle of power they’d attained. Or as if it were an irrelevant fact. The Battle Mind...still couldn’t read him properly. Couldn’t find anything unusual. Or maybe just found everything about the boy so unusual it was the same thing. The theatrical gestures. Walking as if constantly about to break into dance.

  “I’ve seen him in combat,” Ouron gave the boy an annoyed look, voice reluctant to give out praise. “He fights well.”

  “He did save my life a few hours ago,” Aven begrudged, giving the boy a distrustful look. Still, this was not the time to be picky about company. Any vis volunteer for a mission like this was a good one.

  Etrani considered for a long time, staring out the window. Then to Breton. Then out the window again. Apparently, none of those sights held answers. “Could everyone besides Aven please leave?”

  Ouron glanced at Aven, and he shrugged. Breton, Ouron, and Sunshine left, the captain giving Aven a last slight headshake as he left. Though whether that communicated any specific message or just general disapproval was beyond Aven. The door closed to leave them alone. Etrani closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Her hands trembled.

  “I don’t want you to die,” she met his eyes. Voice shaking.

  Aven wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. “...good. We’re in agreement.”

  She didn’t laugh. “Aven...if this fails...”

  “Then I’ll die,” he said. “And if I don’t try it, I’ll probably die. If it’s a choice of dying on Sergrud’s spear or Vestra’s wings...at least fighting Sergrud will feel like I’m doing something of value. What other choice do I have?”

  “You could run,” Etrani said softly.

  For once, Aven wasn’t the one speaking treason in this room. No, it just sounded wrong when Etrani said it.

  “I won’t,” Aven said. “I took an oath to protect Hellfrost, and you.” He hesitated. “No, not because I took an oath. Because I want to. I took the oath because I wanted to protect Hellfrost. Your vision of Hellfrost. A Hellfrost that is something good. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing here, right? Making Octarnis better than the evil and cruelty that it was. That it still is, for many. You stood up to Sergrud and told him you were willing to die for that. I...am too.”

  Etrani looked at him for a long while. Intensely. Still trembling. Her eyes closed again.

  “Just...” her voice was very small. “Just answer this: can you actually do this? Is this...is this just suicide, or do you believe you can win?”

  “I don’t know enough to say,” Aven said. “Which means I don’t know enough to say I’ll definitely lose. Sergrud isn’t invincible. No one is. I can’t promise you I’ll prevail. I can promise you that I’ll do everything I can to win.”

  Etrani nodded, “I understand.” Her eyes fell to the desk as if hoping the patterns of the oaken top would hold answers lacking everywhere else. That final divination apparently failed as well, because her next words came out tired. Resigned. “Being executor...I thought that it only meant dedicating my own life to the empire. I thought I was willing to do that much...” She fell silent, then shook her head, eyes meeting Aven’s, “I understand now. I cannot only be willing to give my own life. I must give others’ too. Even...those I care for.”

  Aven couldn’t say anything to that. Nothing that would be fair to say when he was marching out to die.

  Etrani, it seemed, couldn’t say anything else either. It looked like she choked on the words before finally gasping out, “I...wish you luck, Aven.”

  She held out her hand. Aven took it.

  “Thank you, Aelia,” he replied, giving her hand a squeeze that might be the last time they touched.

  Aven turned and left. He grimaced. Lying to her felt wrong. Because it had been a lie. At least an omitted truth. Countless simulations in the Battle Mind. Countless imagined fights with Sergrud. Even in the realms of imagination, every fight led to Aven’s death. Over and over again, Sergrud’s spear piercing him, gutting him like a hunted pig. Every word spoken by those who’d fought Sergrud, every brief glimpse of Sergrud’s power — it all reinforced what the Battle Mind saw.

  Sergrud fel-Maies was many things. A traitor. A coward and a bully. And he was still a warrior of the third circle. Everything Aven knew told him that he couldn’t survive a fight against someone like that.

  Well, he’d just have to prove himself wrong too.

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