Sara dressed the following morning in the first set of new clothes she'd gotten in weeks. They were made by Nidd, but the materials had been supplied by Ketch. The bck pseudo-nylon that had been driving Sara mad with jealousy was apparently an Azarketi specialty, made from interwoven seagrasses. It was actually Ketch's father that knew how to make it, and apparently it was a time-consuming process, because Ketch swore up and down he'd worked on preparing the materials for most of a week.

  Slipping it on, she felt convinced it was worth every coin she'd paid the man. What had been biking shorts on Ketch were expanded into a full body catsuit for Sara, the thin material just clingy enough that she couldn't rightly be called clothed while wearing it alone. The material was far tougher than the earth equivalent, though not as stretchy, and it breathed exceptionally well. It was the perfect underclothes for Sara's armor, but she intended to use it for much more. If she could meet with Ketch's dad and find out how he made it, Sara was convinced she could rebuild the entire Tulian economy just by introducing this world to the wonders of tights and sweatpants. The azarketi people, who Evie told her had no coherent government to speak of, had no idea of the gold mine they'd inadvertently left untapped.

  The second part of her outfit that so delighted Sara was hanging off her wrists. She'd spent some time in Hurlish's forge, trying to see if she could apply her welding skills to something like bcksmithing. The results of hours of bor were a pair of lumpy, misshapen spike wristbands. The metal had been knit into pce by Nidd, producing the first and closest approximation this world had to punk-rock aesthetic. The spikes were dull, uneven, and tinged with impurities, but Sara was damn proud of them. If only she could find some way to dye her hair back to one of the neon colors she liked to cycle through, then commission a bomber jacket, she'd start to look like her old self.

  Well, almost like my old self, Sara thought as she looked down at her chest. Just way more stacked.

  Sara strolled out of the warehouse with Evie and Hurlish at dawn, all three dressed to impress. For Sara that meant her armor and new nylon suit, a style which was already producing results in the form of distracted gnces from her travel companions. Hurlish had actually slicked back her short hair and filed her tusks, then begrudgingly let Evie redo the botched job while Sara buffed a bit of polish into her exposed ivory. Predictably, Evie wore her altered ruby dress, plunging neckline and scandalous side-slit still not enough to distract from the thick iron band around her neck. She started off wearing the gray cloak she'd grown fond of, but only through the morning rains, tucking it away shortly afterward.

  Following Ketch's directions as they stepped through the abandoned city gates, it would only be a few short hours of walking until they encountered the first vilge. Ketch's description of the new Tulian, once parsed by Evie's formal education, painted the countryside as a unique subsistence farming society. Once the storms had removed the burden of major cities full of hungry mouths, the freshly resettled hordes of farmers found very little to do with their excess crop. Individual fields shrunk while the nd was tilled in progressively greater swathes, an unsteady rhythm slowly felt out over the years as the farmers of Tulian adapted to agriculture without the magical and mechanical aids provided by a central government. While there had been no major famines to Sara's knowledge, there had been massive issues with soil depletion and food waste, mountains of crops going to rot as farmers over-tilled and under-sold. It was only reasonable for individual families to prepare as best they could for a potential drought, especially without regur markets or a trade network to potentially funnel food from elsewhere, but it also produced mountains of useless food each year. Individuals prioritizing themselves, as on Earth, created a wasteful and inefficient collective.

  Both to inform her girlfriend of their situation and to hammer the details down for herself, Sara expined all this to Hurlish while they walked. Evie chimed in occasionally with minor additions, but rarely corrected her, and Sara felt no small amount of pride that she'd actually managed to comprehend the catgirl's lessons.

  Hurlish, on the other hand, didn't understand, and really didn't seem like she wanted to. As they passed yet another fallow field farmed to the point of exhaustion, Hurlish finally threw her arms up.

  "Alright, alright, I get it! Too many farmers, too much food, nothing to do with it. But what's so bad about that? People eat good, and there's no one to bme but themselves if they end up hungry. What're you going to 'solve' about that?"

  "Honestly?" Sara said, "I don't know. It'll be damn hard to convince people to just come back to the cities, not unless they just really hate farming."

  "See?" Hurlish stabbed a thick finger forward for emphasis. "We're not gonna do squat out here. We're gonna say, 'wanna come to the city?' and they're gonna say 'nah, I'm good actually, plenty of food here', and that'll be it."

  "There are more factors to life than food and board, Hurlish," Evie said. "It has only been ten years without governance. There are conveniences inherent to cities that can't be replicated by these distributed communities, things the people will miss dearly. Foreign wealth and goods, for one, not to mention the protection from invaders that a recognized nation and its armies represent." The feline hopped up on a fallen log, uncanny bance carrying her to eye level with Hurlish. "Sporatos may be ignoring its southern border for now, but I knew the king personally. His greed will not be overwrought by his superstition for long. If the people must choose between Sara's rule now, or King Sporatos' rule ter, there is only one good choice."

  Hurlish snorted. "Good luck convincin' them of that. People don't think that far out, not when they've got it good now."

  Tiring of the debate, Sara said, "Well, it doesn't really matter today. We're just going out to trade for some goods and see if there's any specialists left. As for convincing people, I'm just pnning to do what I do best."

  Hurlish raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna eat 'em out?"

  "No, one of the other things I'm the best at. I'm going to figure out what their biggest problem is, solve it in the fshiest way imaginable, then make a fancy speech and dip."

  Evie rolled her eyes. "Eborate as always, Master."

  "Hey, I'm the Champion of Amarat, not Tavan. What else did you expect?"

  "Perhaps more decorum, at the very least." Evie said. She sighed wistfully, thinking back. "If my tutors had posed me this problem, they would have expected me to suggest a subtle yet engaging campaign of petitions and meetings with the authority figures of the vilges, complimented by impassioned speeches that sway the commoner's hearts. After months to years of refined maneuverings, the pinnacle of my achievements would be marked by the hiring of legal philosophers to elegantly pen a constitution that is sure to st for centuries, simultaneously cementing my unquestioned rule for the remainder of my natural life."

  Sara grinned, pounding a fist against her breastpte. "I was thinkin' of finding a bunch of bandits and fightin' 'em in front of a big crowd. Maybe fsh my tits at the end, for style points."

  Evie sighed again, inaudible over Hurlish's booming ughter.

  The walk to the nearest vilge proceeded swiftly, the time carried away by more good-natured conversation. They passed farm after empty farm as they went, fit now only for weeds to grow. Government mages had rejuvenated the soil after each harvest in earlier years, preventing it from falling fallow, but without that supernatural aid the nd had colpsed far quicker than should be possible. Sara bet that nearly every major city now sported an ever-expanding ring of barren fields, yet another issue for her to someday solve.

  Thankfully, the farmers seemed to have learned their lessons by now. Sara eventually spotted in the distance a cluster of tended fields, the diversity of crops obvious at a distance. There were small dots moving across the gently sloping ndscape, fanning out from their small homes as the morning rains concluded.

  The muddy path they tramped down led them straight between two fields, eventually carrying them within shouting distance of a farmer. It was a woman dressed in simple breeches and a wide straw hat, watching their approach with a reserved expression. Sara gave her a wave, calling out.

  "Hello! We were looking for the vilge that's supposed to be around here. Are we on the right path?"

  Hands on her hips and a distrusting lilt to her words, the woman called back. "You are. Just follow the road for a ways. What's your business, strangers?"

  "We nded in the old capital a few days back with a real banged up ship," Sara replied, skirting the edge of truthfulness. "We need stuff we can't find there, so we were hoping to find better luck in the vilges. We can trade goods, work, or coin, whichever you guys prefer out here."

  Charming as she may be, Sara couldn't pry away a decade of isotion in a few short sentences. The woman called back, "Depends on who you're talking to, stranger. Can't speak for the folk in town. Peaceful travels."

  And with that curt dismissal, the woman bent back to her work, never taking her eye off their group. Sara said thanks and waved goodbye, moving on down the road. She'd chosen to dress armed and armored for her first impression, which meant she'd have to deal with those that assumed she was spoiling for a fight.

  It probably didn't help that Sara was, in a way, eagerly awaiting a battle. The meeting with the Shaded Tree, while ending with objectively the best outcome, had felt awfully anticlimactic. Sparring with Evie and Hurlish wasn't nearly as satisfying as a proper all-out brawl, and more importantly, it didn't get her any closer to her next level. She had no way of tracking her 'experience', if that was even how things worked, but either way Sara'd bet that puttering around the capital wasn't nearly as fruitful as scouring the countryside.

  The vilge, when they finally reached it, was an anachronistic mishmash of architecture. The central buildings were well made, square homes with shingled roofs and brick walls, but they were surrounded by far more primitive dwellings. The sort of straw-roofed, circur mudhuts that Sara stereotypically associated with this kind of tropical ndscape, cking in any kind of finer adornments. The second sort of buildings were by far the majority, ringing the old vilge center with their backs to long strips of fields. Unlike the original vilge, which had one massive grain silo for storing crops, each new home had their own smaller storehouses. Gncing into one as a passerby entered, Sara could see vegetables and grain piled loosely on a wooden floor, atop which lorded a lounging cat, grown fat and happy on undoubtedly plentiful vermin.

  Before Sara could enter the densest part of the vilge, she was confronted by a motley group filtering out from between the buildings. Fifteen men and women were sweating in their ratty and soiled gambesons, rusty open faced helmets and simple spears marking them as vilge militia. Unlike the troops Sara had faced on the Magecraft, who marched in precise lockstep with interwoven shields, this group could barely form a straight line. Though she'd never let things progress to violence, Sara was utterly certain that she alone could have waded through the untrained teenagers without a scratch.

  Save, perhaps, for the orcish man who stepped forward with a barked "Halt!" As tall or taller than Hurlish's seven feet, he wore a metal cuirassier's breastpte, his unstained gambeson bolstered by studded leather. "What is your business here?"

  Sara, as instructed, halted. To the naked eye, it seemed Sara's shortsword was the only weapon their group carried, but judging by the way the man kept his distance, he smartly recognized the false security for what it was. Evie's sword could be in her hand in an instant, and the bag of holding containing Hurlish's massive hammer was dangling off the orc's waist.

  "We're just here to trade," Sara said calmly. Evie sniffed and tapped her right foot impatiently, which meant there was at least one concealed archer Sara hadn't noticed. Sara kept her hands well away from her weapon as she spoke. "The ship I was on just scraped by after an attack, so the captain nded in the old capital to recover. I'm here to trade for supplies that I couldn't find in the city, and I've been given leave to use basically anything in our cargo to pay for it."

  The militia's leader squinted suspiciously. "But you showed up in our vilge empty handed?"

  "We have an enchanted bag containing some of the lighter goods, as a show of good faith. The bulkier items would have to be transported after deals are made."

  "Show them," he instructed, tone firm. Hurlish looked to Sara, who nodded.

  The orc began pulling bolts of fine silk from the bag, her movements gcial. Under the soldier's stern eyes she put it back, then drew other goods out, slowly showing off examples of what they'd managed to bring with them.

  "I'm satisfied," the soldier said after the fourth item. "I don't trust you, but I do trust the fact that you came off a ship. No one has that kinda crap around here anymore." He shifted his spear onto his back, closing the distance. "What are you looking for? We don't have much in the way of ship material, speaking pinly."

  Sara reached over to Hurlish's hip, yoinking Nora's list from the bag of holding. "We need pnks ten feet long by two feet wide, or timber to be cut to shape, as much 'yardage' of sail material you can spare, preferably cotton..."

  After listing several more items, the man held up a hand. "I don't know what we have on hand. You'll have to talk to folk around town. If you give me your weapons, I'll let you go about."

  "Uh, that's kind of hard," Sara scratched the side of her head. "Mine's enchanted, so I don't want that out of my sight, and Evie here has hers bound to her. I guess Hurlish could give up-"

  "No."

  "-She says no." Sara held up her hands apologetically. "Any way we can work around us keeping our weapons? Is there, like, a vilge leader I can get approval from?"

  The orc gred down at Sara, arms crossed. The militia had dispersed by now, but Sara felt pretty certain they were just for show. This man, and maybe whoever the hidden archers were, actually defended the pce.

  "What are you?" He asked roughly. "Mercenaries? Rebellious lordlings? You're someone, that's for sure. Enchanted weapons and armor, walking through Tulian with a sve? What do people like you want with us?"

  "She's the Champion of Amarat," Evie answered curtly, tail flicking in agitation as she stared up at the orc. "And she is my Master, who was forcefully bound to me, as her detest for sves has no end. She has no ill will for you, sir. As for myself, I am Evie, former heir to the Eliah estate, once second in wealth only to King Sporatos. Our taller companion is Hurlish of Hagos, the finest smith the city has ever seen, who now follows my Master's endeavors."

  The orcish man absorbed this passively, staring down at Evie, then flicking his gaze across Sara and Hurlish. After a moment, he blew a tired breath through his teeth, long tusks making the note whistle.

  "Y'got any proof of being the Champion?"

  Sara crossed her arms to mimic his posture, activating her runes. The pink glow traveled from her skin to the etchings of her armor, visibly misting even in the brilliant daylight. "I match the description and I glow in the dark, but that's not anything that can't be faked by a decent mage. So unless you've got something I can fight to prove it, I don't see how you can be certain."

  After yet another silent staredown, the man sighed, posture rexing. "Fine," he said, "I'll take the bait. There is something you can fight, 'Champion', but it'll be a while yet before we're ready."

  "Oh? Not something you think I can take on by myself?"

  "The Champion only appeared a few months ago, by most accounts. Extraordinary as Champions are, she won't be able to deal with problems like we've got on her own yet. And besides," the orc gnced at Sara's neon pink armor, "She's the Champion of Amarat. If you're really the Champion, I don't mean to be rude when I say it's hard to imagine you being a powerhouse."

  "No offense taken," Sara said with a roll of her shoulders. "But I think I've got more tricks up my sleeve than you'd expect."

  "Hmph. Well, I'll send the word out that we're gonna move. Even if you aren't a Champion, three Irregurs are good enough. It'll take a while to gather the troops, so I'll escort you around town myself in the meantime. The name's Voth."

  "Appreciate it. I'm Sara, in case my name got mangled on the way to Tulian." She trailed in his shadow as he found someone to raise the militia. The real one, apparently, not the little crew that they'd scrounged up to receive Sara's group. "So what's the fight you've got for me?" Sara asked as the young runner scurried off. "Roving monster, bandit crew, or what?"

  "The second. Neighboring vilge turned bandit a couple months back, a big one not even a day's walk away. They haven't been coming our way yet, but it's only a matter of time."

  Hurlish frowned. "Turned bandit? A whole vilge up and fell into crime?"

  Voth nodded. "More and more common these days. You three really haven't been in Tulian long?"

  "About a week now, and only in the capital."

  "Hm. Then here's the short of it: the jungle's gone mad. Everyone was farming like wild the first few years, turned the nd to dust, but they thought it was fine, simple enough to move along when things got bad. Then they hit the new border, where all the monsters that used to stay cooped up in the trees had started wandering." Voth shook his head, an aged frustration stewing up. "Since we're stuck between a rock and a hard pce, a certain persuasion have started thinking it's easier to take new nd from people than beasts."

  "Not too dissimir from the Northern Empire after their colpse," Evie noted. "Violent, short-sighted opportunists whose once meager prospects suddenly found little obstacle."

  "Dunno about the north," Voth said, "but you got the bandit sorts figured right. They think what's good now will always be good, and they don't give a damn about anything other than their next meal." He eyed Sara. "If you're really a Champion, you're here for a reason. Is putting down petty bandit lords it?"

  Sara fshed a toothy grin. "Not in particur, but it fits the bill pretty close. I'm always game to maul some cutthroats."

  "Good."

  Sara spent the next few hours being led about town with Voth as her 'escort', though he spent more of this time paying attention to the marshaling of his troops than her. The shopping spree was fruitful, either because she found what she needed or got directions to where she could, but Sara's main focus was on the slowly gathering group of ragtag soldiers.

  They were far from an army. The finished ensemble consisted either of fresh-faced, inexperienced volunteers, or veterans well past their prime. Very few were like Voth, both able-bodied and disciplined. The prime condition soldiers numbered maybe six out of sixty, forming Voth's informal officer corps that were busy disciplining the rookies and keeping the old veteran's grousing to a minimum.

  "How're they looking, Evie?" Sara asked as the final formation gathered up. The catgirl may technically have nearly equal combat time to Sara, but Evie was the only one of her merry band beside Ignite with formal training.

  "They aren't army quality, Master," Evie answered. "More effective than a pure militia, certainly, but they are too lightly equipped to be the core of a unit. Skirmishers, at best."

  "You're not wrong, unfortunately," Voth said, dusting his hands off as he returned from straightening out a shoving match over who got what equipment. "Skirmishers are what I've trained 'em as, for just that reason. Ain't enough to form proper ranks, not unless we want to get surrounded the second the lines meet."

  "What are the enemy's numbers?" Evie asked, tail flicking thoughtfully.

  "By best guesses, a bit under ours. Fifty-odd fighters, but until today they've had us whipped on Irregurs. Maybe five or six, depending on who you believe."

  "Which is why you only decided to begin an offensive with Master's help," Evie hummed. "Smart. What composition are the Irregurs?"

  Voth narrowed his eyes at Evie. "Three archers, one mage, and one or two swordsmen. What's it to you, sve?"

  Without looking, Evie snatched Sara's forearm in midair as it flew for her sword. Still looking at Voth, the catgirl dug her cws into Sara's skin. "I trained under the Night's Eye Mercenaries and was taught formation tactics by General Sentan of the Sporaton Army. And Master, I'd really rather you not kill him."

  Voth's wide eyes were locked on Sara's glowering runes. The mist hissing from the gaps of her armor deepened in hue, more boiling red than ephemeral pink.

  "My Master would like you to apologize for referring to me as 'sve', Voth. She would also like to further specify that the issue is not with the word itself, which is technically accurate, but the derogatory manner in which it was used."

  Voth took a hasty step back, bowing his head. "I apologize, Evie. I wasn't aware of your status. Most sves are..."

  Sara jerked her arm out of Evie's grasp, ignoring the red lines her cws drew. Voth started, darting for his spear, but Sara only shook her wrist out, ignoring her sword.

  "Evie is a sve because of unfortunate circumstance, Voth, like every sve. If you're going to live in the new Tulian, you're going to have to break old habits. She, and anyone else that is or once was ensved, aren't going to be treated as such."

  "The new Tulian?"

  "You'll find out soon enough," Sara snapped, shaking her head to clear the red tinging her vision. She walked a few feet away from Voth, taking deep breaths in the shade of a nearby building.

  "Y'know you almost bit it there, right?" Hurlish quietly asked the man.

  "It occurred to me, yes." Voth said, taking his own deep breaths. "What about you, Hurlish? I didn't see you going for a weapon."

  "Oh, nah," Hurlish waved the notion away. "I mean, when you said that I thought 'ah, shit, here we go', but then I thought 'nah, Evie's not gonna let her kill him', and then I thought 'yeah but Sara's way stronger than Evie', but then she said what she did and I thought 'Sara ain't gonna say no to Evie, that girl never asks for anything', so once I thought that I knew it was gonna be all good."

  "Ah," Voth said, drawing the word out. "Well, you're a quicker thinker than me. I suppose I appreciate your faith in your companions. It wouldn't do to have allies ripping each other apart before even leaving the vilge."

  Sara finished her little cool-off session, returning to the group.

  "Sorry about that," she said to Voth, offering a gauntleted hand. "Amarat's blessings make gut reactions a lot harder to halt. Accidental insults, especially one that mild, shouldn't be a death sentence. Even if you insulted one of my girlfriends. The fault's mine."

  Voth's eyebrows creased, but he shook her hand nonetheless. "Apology accepted. And for what it's worth, I did mean it when I said sorry. I'm so used to being the only one around here that knows jack about shit when it comes to soldiering that it irked me to have someone creeping in on my territory." Dropping Sara's hand, Voth turned to Evie. "Trained with the Night's Eye, huh? I've heard of them. Any mercenary group that I've heard of way out here must be impressive."

  "They were well trained, disciplined, and honorable beyond coin and contract. A rarity for mercenaries, as I'm sure you're aware."

  "That's the truth," Voth chuckled, rubbing his stubble contemptively. "The closest thing we've got to our own Irregurs before you three showed up were me and a couple of the vets. With all the shorttusks on our hands, though, we're needed to keep the line in order more than anything. Evie, you think you three could act as an AP Squad?"

  "Even if three alone are enough to constitute an AP, we would be the hammer to what anvil?" Evie asked, easily falling into jargon that left Sara and Hurlish blinking. "You said it yourself. This is a preliminary skirmish engagement, not a phanx's shoving match."

  "There ain't a pce in Tulian without haz terrain in the rainy season. Once things get locked in, there ain't no way they're gonna manage a counterformation, much less split off a pinning squad. We'll keep the primary force too busy for that, if bandits can even recognize that they need to counter your group."

  "The AP squad will still be outnumbered by the Irregurs, however."

  "Yeah. Ain't no way around that. You'll have to get the jump on 'em good and proper. From what I've heard, their Irregurs are lopsided on experience. Render the mage combat ineffective early and you'll have a shot with the rest. Won't be a mop job, but close enough."

  "Needs short line of sight and muddy terrain. The pn's awfully dependent on the engagement zone."

  "Ain't it always?"

  Sara nodded authoritatively from the sidelines, looking serious.

  "Master, what do you think?"

  Shit. I was hoping I could pose my way through this. Sara ran a hand through her hair sheepishly. "I'll be honest, I didn't catch most of that. Haven't really done any organized fights like this. Can you transte?"

  "Voth wants us to sneak around the side of the battle and engage their Irregurs--"

  "Irregurs?"

  "Career combatants, remember? Individuals with skills considerable enough to influence the battle singlehandedly, Master. Voth wishes us to counter this bandit group's Irregurs, six against three, and then use our position to pin the enemy force between his men and our group."

  "You think we can?"

  "As I said, it all depends on the circumstances. Should we meet the enemy in an open field, we'll have to join the main force or risk being sughtered at range."

  "I can use a bow," Sara pointed out. "Bullshit goddess powers, remember? I'm good with any weapon, bows and crossbows included."

  Voth's interest was piqued. "Any weapon, you say?"

  "Yeah. You were right that Amarat's Champion isn't as combat focused as, like, Otarion's, but I'm still ridiculous. I'll be as good with a bow as I was with my sword before I practiced, which was still pretty good. Evie, how would you describe my old swordsmanship?"

  "Excellent technical skills, but cking the innovation of mastery."

  "Yeah, sounds about right. So that's how good I'll be with a bow."

  "How good you will be?" Voth asked, seizing on the operative word. "You haven't shot one before?"

  "Nope. You got one handy?"

  Voth put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, turning heads. He pointed to one of the younger boys milling about, one with a bow strapped to his back, and waved him over.

  "Garis. You're pretty handy with a bow, aren't you?"

  "Reasonably, sir?" Garis responded timidly. He was solidly overshadowed in height by everyone present save Evie.

  "What's the best shot you can consistently make? To Ms. Deluth's over there, or further?"

  The boy looked down the street, judging the distance. "Further than Ms. Deluth's, but not much. Maybe one more down?"

  Voth nodded to Sara. "Think you can beat that?"

  "I won't know until I pick up the bow. It's how it works."

  Looking doubtful, Garis unslung his bow and handed it to Sara, offering her a single feathervaned arrow. She drew the string to her cheek, testing the weight, then gauged the distance for herself.

  "Yeah, easy. Watch."

  Sara knocked the arrow, a simple shaft of wood with a barbed iron tip. As she pulled back on the string, her instincts told her the draw weight was around sixty pounds, impressively heavy for a shortbow. Most archers Sara had seen in this world favored a two finger grip, one on top and one below the nock, but she used a three finger grip, pointer resting just beneath the arrow on the string.

  "I'll shoot for the grass right in front of the door. It'd be rude to put a whole in someone's wall."

  Sara loosed the arrow, sending it hissing through the air. She watched it fly, wobbling in the wind, then arc into the earth just before a house, one that was purposefully three doors down from the first that Voth had named.

  "Huh," Voth intoned.

  Garis, squinting after the vanished arrow, turned to Sara with a frown. "You owe me an arrow."

  Evie promptly reached over to Hurlish's hip, digging their coin from the bag of holding. She tossed Garis a silver, which made his eyes bulge.

  Voth shook his head. "Well, Champion or not, you're gonna be handy." He turned to the assembled militia, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Alright, get yourselves together! Time to get moving!"

  Sara stood back and watched while Voth and his core of veterans began whipping the militia into shape, barking orders and swatting backsides with the hafts of their spears.

  "It's taking a lot longer than I expected to get them into gear," Sara idly noted to Evie.

  "This is fairly typical, Master. It's actually notable that such a rural force even has the wherewithal to march in column, rather than a loose line of socializing crowds."

  Hurlish's lip curled. "Ugh. Remind me to never join the army. This shit'd drive me crazy."

  "I believe you'll find the work of an Irregur much more to your tastes, Hurlish," Evie assured her. "They are given more leeway than the common chaff, both on and off the battlefield. If we do end up taking on the role of an Autonomous Pincer Squad, we will be given leave to pursue our objectives as we see fit."

  The column, now assembled, began to lurch forward. Caught at the end of it, Sara's group had to trudge through the mud churned up by dozens of passing feet. Sara stepped off the trail, preferring the tall grass.

  "Speaking of which, Evie, I was gonna ask. You clearly know more than either of us about battle tactics. Voth seemed to assume you were gonna be in charge, but I know you aren't cool with that."

  Evie walked silently for a time. Sara waited patiently for her response.

  "...I don't think it's much of an issue, Master. I understand that I'm the best choice for the task."

  "But?" Sara prompted, sensing the unspoken tension.

  "But I still wish I didn't have to," Evie admitted with a sigh. "If there were another fit to take command of our squad for the battle, I would gdly foist the burden of command on them."

  "I'll do it if you really don't feel comfortable," Sara said. "I don't have your training, but I've still got a good feel for these things. Amarat's blessings give me weapon knowledge and the ability to judge people, so I'll have a handle on how things are going. I won't be useless, at the very least."

  "Yes, but lives are at stake, Master. It would be irresponsible of me to defer the duty."

  "Sure, but it's also the exact kind of responsibility that you wanted to avoid by being my sve. Remember, if you hadn't said you were okay with this situation, we'd still be back in Sporatos, trying to find a way to break the bond."

  "Don't you dare." Evie put a possessive hand over her colr. "I understand your concerns, Master, but a position not dissimir from this was what I trained for. In the early years of my training, I would often dream of commanding my own squad on the field of battle, winning accim for our House on my own terms, rather than Mother's. Diplomacy and battle are the two fields with which I am comfortable. It was the nebulous consequences of civil command that terrified me so." She csped the colr more firmly, licking her lips. "Today I risk mistiming a charge, perhaps resulting in a dozen men and women dead. If I had become head of my house, as Mother repeatedly told me, a mistaken edict could have resulted in a famine that kills thousands."

  Hurlish, not used to such frank openness in Evie, blew out a long breath. "Damn, girl. That's a hell of a lot of pressure to put on a kid. Your mom really did suck shit, didn't she?"

  Evie shrugged, miming disinterest. "Oh, she didn't think it was much to cause stress. After all, they were only peasants. The real concern of a famine was to the economy, you see. The dead can't pay taxes."

  Sara scoffed. "Y'know, Evie, I hate to admit it, but every time you talk about her, the less bad I feel about getting your mom hanged."

  Evie's tight-lipped smile was venomous. "Think nothing of it, Master. I've yet to finish returning the favor."

  They walked in silence for a few minutes more, until quietly, almost speaking to herself, Hurlish mumbled, "Am I the only one here without mommy issues?"