Author's Note:
I have like, hit my stride with this story again. I've missed this story, but I'm glad I took some time away from it (kind of an understatement). I understand the characters much more now, and that makes my job a hell of a lot easier. And with a lot of slow days at work, I have several long strips of receipt paper where this chapter, and the last, were mostly written. You'd think summer wouldn't be a slow time for a tourist attraction in the middle of Orlando, but, hey, I'm not complaining. Disney can take the business if they want.

You just have to walk in the room and be fearless. Never let people think for a minute that you couldn't take them down.
-Stevie Nicks

Viren came to the clinic, where Martel was doing final checks on her supplies for the march.

"Good morning," she greeted coolly. Zaren's betrayal had, naturally, hit Viren the hardest, but it was causing his decision-making skills to falter; Martel couldn't agree with Viren that slaughtering all the people inside Ravenatele was the best plan.

"Good morning. I can't find Yuan or Kratos. Have you seen them?"

Martel shook her head. "No. They left before I woke up." It wasn't technically a lie.

"I need them to lead two teams to help corral the escapees for today."

"You didn't mention that yesterday."

"We reviewed the plan and decided that there was still a lot of room for people to run if they make it out of the city. The both of them are decent trackers, but more importantly, our soldiers trust them."

"Good luck finding them."

Viren's eyes narrowed. "And they didn't leave a note or anything?"

"Not that I saw," Martel said, standing, and wiping remnants of balm on her pants. "But I'll pass on the message if I see them."

"Thank you."

"This idea seems dumber and dumber the longer it goes on," Yuan muttered as he climbed down the service ladder for the aqueduct that Noishe had landed on.

"Remember the alternative," Kratos said, looking around and trying to orient himself. "The command center should be…that way, if the maps of Ravenatele were accurate."

"We just escaped prison and now you want to get arrested again?" Yuan couldn't stop remembering manacles on his wrists, and being trapped in that cell, with Zaren staring out across the hallway at him.

"No one said anything about being arrested."

"Yeah, we just walk in with a white flag? Great plan."

Kratos gritted his teeth. "We don't need your negativity right now. C'mon."

Yuan tugged his hood further over his head, but stayed quietly on Kratos' heels.

"Yggdrasill!"

Mithos and Martel both turned at the sound of their name. They exchanged a look—Myra must be really on edge with that tone. "Yes ma'am?"

"Your men—where are they?"

Martel rather liked the idea of Kratos and Yuan being her men, of being hers, really. It had been just her and Mithos for too long.

Mithos blinked his big blue eyes. "They never reported for duty?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

The siblings glanced at the sky, judging the time. Kratos and Yuan should be either in the city, or nearing it by now. "We came up with an alternate plan," Mithos said. "For Ravenatele.

Myra drew in a deep breath. "Spirits above. They're over there now, aren't they?"

"We have to at least try for peace," Mithos insisted. "Civilians dying as collateral damage because of bombs and magic is one thing—it's still a tragedy, but it's war. What you guys are setting out to do is genocide."

"You think the humans haven't done the same to us?"

"I think we need to show them a better way!"

Myra's face was unreadable. "We march on them today."

"If we don't receive word on them by sundown," Martel said. "We can rain hell down on them. But let Yuan and Kratos try to negotiate a surrender."

"You haven't given us another option." Myra exhaled through her nose. "…Do you think they can do it?"

Both siblings answered without hesitating. "Yes."

"We've come to offer you an opportunity, General," Yuan said, choosing his words carefully.

"An opportunity," the General scoffed. "What can a pair of half-breeds possibly have to offer me?"

General Gower was a heavyset man, whose hair and beard were shot through with grey. There was a thinness to his face, however, that spoke of lean times. Last winter had been a hard one out here then. Kratos recognized General Gower vaguely from the Celsius Day parties that his father had been invited to, but twenty years made quite a bit of difference.

"Our army prepares to invade, General, and we have the resources and strength to flatten Ravenatele." Being civil to this man made Yuan itch, but this was a negotiation, not an argument. He could prove that half-elves could be just as educated and articulate as humans. "We can—and will—kill every last man, woman, and child."

"Unless?"

"Surrender. Yield your troops and your weapons, allow them to be taken prisoner and the city is spared."

General Gower laughed. "You expect me to believe this?"

Kratos—who had been quiet until now—stepped forward. "General Gower, your military has made the mistake of underestimating us once before, and for that, General Aurion paid the price. Do you really want to risk your city, and the lives of thousands, on the long odds that we're bluffing?"

Gower eyed Kratos, measuring him up the way that the drill sergeants in the military school had. "…I know your face. You're his traitor son."

"And his killer." Kratos couldn't quite call himself a murderer. It hit a little too close to home.

"So the rumors are true."

"Every word. Now, I know you care for your troops, General. It's why you haven't advanced far into half-elf territory—you think it's too risky. And you're right. So, do the right thing for your people and surrender." The more Kratos spoke, the more comfortable he felt. He could do this; words were his specialty.

"You expect me to surrender my people to savages?"

"No. I expect you to surrender to a more powerful enemy so that you and yours can live to fight another day."

Gowen snorted. "Please. They'll be locked underground to starve and die, if they're lucky."

"No. That's a human practice." (It's weird, sometimes, when Kratos hears himself speak. He talks about humans like he's not part of them—which, politically, he's not—but he doesn't always belong with the half-elves either. He's in-between everything) "Nor will they be enslaved."

Yuan watched Kratos, fearless and confident—everything he'd hoped his best friend would grow to be, and here it was. Perhaps his father's darkness wouldn't stay with him.

"What's to stop me from killing the both of you where you stand, and prepare my city for war?"

Yuan couldn't help the smirk at that point. "You're a smart man, General. Surely you realize that there are contingencies in place should we not report back. This all circles back to one thing: Are you a betting man? And are you willing to risk several thousand lives on that decision?"

"Hypothetically, I surrender. What's to stop your army from destroying us all with our guards down?"

It was a fair question, and one that neither Yuan nor Kratos had considered.

"Keep me here," Kratos suggested. "Allow Yuan to return with news of your surrender. You can keep me under guard. When our general comes to negotiate the specifics of your surrender, I go free."

(Yuan's first thought is to tell Kratos no. He didn't want to leave him in this city by himself, surrounded by the enemy. But this is their best chance)

"Are we in agreement?" Kratos asked, holding out his hand.

"…Agreed. Ravenatele surrenders."