Lukas,

Even as I write this now I still cannot make up my mind about you. This is my fourth attempt at getting it out on paper, and I still half expect to tear it up halfway through and start anew.

You are so distant. That you spend all of your time in the capital and never visit is just half of it. Even in the times we have spoken face-to-face it's like you're a thousand miles away. I cannot get a measure of what goes on inside of your head, let alone your heart. It is like nothing means anything to you, like all the world could come to an end, and you would only utter something pithy, that it was undesirable or unfortunate.

And if the world means little to you, I can tell I mean near nothing.

It's over between us, and I've found a new man. He plays the lyre so beautifully, and when he holds me and smiles I feel like the world grows warmer around me. I'm happy in a way I never was before.

I don't hate you, Lukas. I wish it had been different. I hope you find happiness, whatever you consider that to be.

Sincerely,

Jane

P.S: I have included money with this letter. Please return by post the books I have lent you, listed below (...)

Lukas finished reading the letter, then went over it once more to ensure clarity.

Jane in another man's arms.

The thought should have disgusted him. Lukas had received the letter half a week before Alm marched north from Arais but had neglected to read it until they were two weeks into Rigel. He had no time to process it or respond, and Jane would have a long time to wait for Lukas to return the books she had lent him.

"Sir Lukas!" Forsyth shouted into the tent, shuffling in a second after. He was prepared, dressed in a mail shirt and helmet with his sword sheathed. "Sir, are you readied?"

"Yes, Forsyth. Just give me a second."

Forsyth saw the letter Lukas was still glancing over. "Sir, is that an order for the patrol?"

"It is not."

"Is it something important, sir?"

Lukas shoved the letter at Forsyth to quiet him for the five seconds it took him to read through, then continued rummaging through his bag.

"That dastardly woman! How utterly wicked! Sir, You ought to return at once and beat sense into her, and this scoundrel-"

Lukas grabbed the letter back from Forsyth and stuffed it into his pack, and retrieved the firestarter he'd been looking for in the first place, pocketing it after a test yielded a cloud of sparks. "I have what I was looking for. Let us depart at once," Lukas said, moving to leave the tent. Forsyth blocked his path.

"Sir, you ought to be more alarmed!"

Lukas nudged Forsyth aside; he had never been tall, but Forsyth was long and gangling, and it took little exertion to push him about.

"Forsyth, you are now a knight. You need not call me sir."

Forsyth sighed and glanced at his boots for a moment, then continued his tirade. "This insult is a blight upon your honor! You should be angered! Enraged! Infuriated!" Forsyth shouted.

Perhaps he is right. Perhaps Jane was too.

"Regardless of my own feelings, there is precious little within my capabilities in the near future. Even were I to write back with harsh words, my best opportunity at delivering the letter would be throwing it from the camp as far as I am able," Lukas said.

"That- that is… very well, then. As soon as we are done with this Arthegnii business we will be paying this lover of hers a visit to duel. I will be your second."

Lukas sighed, though he couldn't help but be amused at Forsyth's passion. "I appreciate the sentiment, Forsyth. All I ask of you is that you take care during this patrol."

Forsyth's eyes narrowed. "I will do both, then. Let us be off."

Their horses were a short walk away. Their third companion, Clement, was already mounted with his bow strung, and was warming it in a frantic sort of way, either from nerves or impatience. He saluted when they rounded the corner. "Sir Lukas. Sir Forsyth," he said, always one with respect for rank, then began riding to the gate. Lukas mounted, accepted a shield and spear from a groom, and followed Forsyth after their archer. They met him at the camp's east gate and departed, early in the morning to scout ahead of the army.

The road, such as it was, was more of a trail in parts, with the forest creeping in on either side leaving the path constricted. While dark and cold, Lukas appreciated the fresh air, and while the dense woodlands felt claustrophobic, they were also too dense for Arthegnii warriors to conceal themselves for an easy ambush. Regardless, the three rode in a diagonal line with a few yards between, so that they were near enough to speak and readily assist each other, but far enough so that an attack from any direction couldn't kill all three of them without giving at least one a chance to escape.

They rode several hours without incident, and eventually the narrow path opened out onto a wide plain hollowed out in the trees. To the north, the plains sloped down at a gradual angle, meeting a thin stream, then the dense forest just afterward. while the land to the south was flat, fading into the forest after a quarter or half mile, with mountains hanging over in the background. It was obvious the Arthegnii had used it as a campsite, with trees felled and cut for firewood, hundreds of blacked firepits spotting the plain, along with latrines dug out of the hard soil, and some abandoned carts strewn about by the roadside on the far east end of the grounds, where the forests closed around the trail once more.

The weather was cold but clear, leaving the morning bright and crisp. Some trees held snow in their branches, and the sun's light turned them bright white, almost painful to stare at too long. Lukas had begun to admire the beauty of the landscape when Clement hissed, "Movement!", waving for Lukas and Forsyth to clear the trail. They dashed to the side to take some cover between the trees, then glanced back at Clement, who gestured to his eyes, then to the south side of the road, about halfway through the hollow. Lukas leaned out from behind his tree and squinted. There were a few figures on horseback disappearing into the trees as he sighted them; Clement must have been extremely attentive to have noticed them in the first place. Lukas waved Clement over, a minute after the riders passed out of view.

"Good work, Clement," he said when the archer joined him and Forsyth.

He nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Lukas kept a lookout as he spoke. "Those must be Arthegnii. No other men could have business here."

"Let us ride and put them to rout at once. Our honour demands it!" said Forsyth, stretching out his spear arm in anticipation.

He wasn't entirely wrong. Under the Zofian knightly code, it was a severe offense for an armored man to shirk from a fight or retire - even if wounded - without an officer's permission, and the three of them would only have been more armored if they were riding into battle. But…

"Our mission is to observe first, then destroy the enemy forces once located," Lukas responded. "We will not be crying out our lord's name and charging with lances couched… yet. We will move into the wood after them and establish their purpose, then attack if it is appropriate. Any objections?"

"What if this is an ambush, sir?" asked Clement.

"Then at worst it claims three rather than striking our comrades. Clement, if I give the order or am struck down, fall back immediately and find the next patrol. Forsyth and I will hold them as best we can."

Clement nodded, and Forsyth was raring for a fight, so Lukas sensed there were no further concerns. He rode out first, followed by Forsyth, with Clement a way's back to cover them. They rode as quickly as could be done quietly until they reached the first trees, then spread out abreast in a line, Forsyth five yards to Lukas' right, Clement five to his left. They proceeded at a careful walk, sticking by trees to minimize visibility. Lukas began to hear something in the distance up ahead, after ten minutes of their creeping advance, but couldn't pinpoint the location in the woods.

Lukas signalled the others to stop, to try and get a better read on the Arthegnii position; he could hear muffled thumping and voices. It sounded like just a few men at work. Suddenly, he heard a whooshing noise from his right and whipped over at it, only to see Forsyth excitedly waving his spear over his head to get Lukas' attention. He gestured for Forsyth to quit it, then, quietly, waved over to Clement, indicating he follow him to Forsyth. The other knight's signal was enthusiastic rather than urgent, so Lukas dismounted and led his horse over to reduce his profile as best he could.

"There!" whispered Forsyth, gesturing with his spear once Lukas reached him; he had to mount up again to have any sight on what Forsyth was pointing toward. It was still a ways off, but between the trees and bushes, he could make out three Arthegnii men working at something in a tree, lowering down some sort of bundle with a rope. Two were mounted still, standing in the saddle to get better reach into the tree's branches, the third afoot and working with the rope. They were alone, or, if not, did excellent work in hiding it; the three only spoke to each other and never looked outward to men out of Lukas' sight. The Arthegnii also seemed to believe they were alone; they shouted and laughed loudly enough that the patrol's quiet approach was a wasted effort.

After Clement reached them, Lukas remounted and observed the Arthegnii for another minute. They continued about their work, bringing another bundle down from the tree and placing it by the half dozen of others they had secured, then moving to another tree. The whole time, they never communicated to other men; Lukas was certain it was just the three of them.

"Have either of you an idea what they are up to?" Lukas asked.

Forsyth shrugged. Clement continued peering at the Arthegnii, hyper-focused and attentive, but shook his head with a negative grunt.

"Very well. We are to ride forth and defeat the three riders. Clement-"

Forsyth couched his spear, reared his horse back, and cried out, "For Conrad and Zofia!", charging into the wood screaming at the top of his lungs.

Clement hissed a curse in shock.

"Go around the forest where it's clear, cut off their escape! I'll follow Forsyth," Lukas shouted, bringing down his spear and digging in his spurs, with Clement bolting off in the other direction. Lukas brought his horse to the quickest gallop he could manage among the trees, and had to keep low to avoid riding face-first into sturdy branches, but thin, long ones still whipped against his face and arms. Forsyth alternated between various battle cries, and simple screaming, which gave Lukas some ability to track him through the forest as they charged - suddenly, then, Lukas broke through the trees into a hollow path wide enough to ride on. Forsyth was directly in front of him, with the Arthegnii beyond. The two riders had drawn axes, and were charging back at Forsyth, while the dismounted man was bolting toward his tied horse. Clement was nowhere in sight.

A stray branch cracked across Lukas' face, whipping pines against his face and eyes, and for a few seconds he lost sight.

"For Emperor Alm, the Godslayer!" Forsyth screamed, and Lukas heard the sound of a heavy blow and a scream. By the time he got his eyes open, Forsyth had broken past the two riders, leaving one sprawling on the path impaled on a spear head, the other charging directly at Lukas with his axe raised for a strike with the fallen rider's confused horse bounding along at his side. Lukas's left eye had teared up from the branch hit, making it near impossible to aim a strike at the oncoming rider. Lukas thrust his spear but was far late and hit only air; the Arthegnii rider prepared to swing at Lukas' head when the other rider's horse threw him off-balance, and the two passed each other by.

Lukas glanced forward - Forsyth was chasing the third man, now mounted, still no Clement - then craned his head backwards to see the rider he had passed was turned around, and chasing him down. Lukas tossed his spear into a tree, wiped at his bad eye, and drew his sword, turning around again. The rider was gaining on him, pulling up on his left where he couldn't swing his sword, leaving him defenseless. Lukas turned left as far as he could manage to make his shield ready, but the Arthegnii rider declined to attack him.

Then Lukas heard it - thundering hooves from the front, a scream of "Death to King Zekstriss!"

He turned forwards just in time to see Forsyth charging straight at him, and broke right. Forsyth struck the second rider in the face with the broken shaft of his spear, snapping his head around and leaving his face smashed and red, then was gone in a green blur. The rider fell limply forward on his still-galloping horse, then the impact of its hooves threw him over its left side and it dragged him along the ground by the stirrups, slowing to a stop somewhere in the forest.

Lukas began to slow his horse, but heard the pounding of two horses' hooves; one out towards the edge of the wood, one headed directly away from him.

Forsyth abandoned the chase to aid me. A poor prioritization, if kind.

Lukas brought his horse to a gallop in pursuit of the last Arthegnii man, weaving between trees to try and keep on his tail. The trees thinned as he rode and he could hear hoofbeats, but Lukas still couldn't place the rider. Lukas spotted a rider through the trees skirting around the edge of the wood, crossing from left to right, but before he could prepare to attack he caught a glimpse of the rider's blue coat - it had to be Clement.

Lukas broke out of the trees and pulled up alongside the archer, who pointed the Arthegnii rider out to him, headed for the road as quickly as his horse would carry him, unencumbered by armor and pulling away from the two.

"Shoot him down!" Lukas called out to Clement, who loosed an arrow far wide of the barbarian, then missed a second time, with the rider still slipping away. The man reached the road and sped up further on the flattened dirt, headed east, back towards his own army.

Clement slowed to a halt for one last try, and Lukas tore past him. The rider was just at the edge of bowshot when Clement loosed his arrow. Lukas caught a look at the dark arrow as it passed over the light sky, reaching its apex, then dropping, plummeting down - and passing just over the rider's head, who passed out of sight beyond the trees a second later. Lukas gave up the chase, slowing his horse and turning back around.

He had known men who would've made that shot with ease, or, for that matter, either of the others. But Clement wasn't a knight raised fighting with lance and sword, or a tested soldier from the regular army. He was a replacement, fresh out of training to replace casualties, and he knew it too.

"I'm sorry, sir," Clement said when Lukas reached him. Clement was struggling to look him in the eye, and gripped his bow tight.

"Don't agonize over it, Clement. You are inexperienced, not negligent or careless."

Clement looked up at him and nodded, seeming soothed some amount. "Thank you, sir."

"Now, speaking of 'negligent and careless'…"


"Forsyth!" Lukas shouted, as they neared him. He had collected the horses of the two dead Arthegnii and was dismounted, facing their direction, but was mentally somewhere else entirely, examining something at the base of the tree they had caught the Arthegnii working at. Lukas rode around to Forsyth's side.

He was sitting in the dirt by the bundles, delicately holding one of a hundred broken arrows in both hands. Lukas put it together in a second, and waved Clement come with him. "Let's give Sir Forsyth a minute," he said quietly.

They rod for a few seconds to get some distance from Forsyth. "Why would they have cached a handful of bundle of arrows? They didn't lack for cart space, if the wagons they abandoned are any indicator," Lukas mused.

Clement thought on it for a second, until his gaze drifted up into the trees, and he stopped. "Not a single handful, sir," he said.

Of course.

Lukas looked up, but he knew it before he saw. The tree they were under had three bundles suspended from sturdy branches, each filled with arrows tied up together. The one to their left had four, the next two, and as far as Lukas could tell, every tree in the vicinity was filled with arrow stores. Everything fell into place, and Lukas allowed himself a chuckle.

"It seems the barbarians forgot their ammunition stores, Clement. Then, finding their wagons light, they abandoned some, then realized their error and sent men back to reclaim them. Then we arrived. Or, so I would theorize."

"That seems likely, sir. But I am not sure we can be certain; more may be dispatched soon."

"Correct, Clement. Come with me."

Lukas turned his horse and rode back quickly. "Forsyth!" he shouted. The man jolted up and shot to his feet, but didn't let go of the arrow. "The Arthegnii have stored their ammunition in this forest, but the last rider escaped us. They may have reinforcements coming. We would do best to destroy their supplies, then leave while we are able."

"How will we, sir?" asked Clement.

Lukas reached for his belt, and pulled up his firestarter, then pointed it away from himself and gave the igniter a stroke, spewing out a cloud of sparks. "I imagine this shall suffice." Lukas dismounted, then gestured to the nearest tree. "Help me pile up kindling, so that we may set it alight and be off. What came of the two riders you struck?" Lukas asked Forsyth.

Forsyth was working on securing the broken arrow in his saddlebags, and was silent for a few seconds before he turned around, his expression angered. He shrugged dismissively. "They can burn."

Lukas felt inclined to agree. Finding and finishing off the Arthegnii was an unnecessary chore when time was not in abundance. Moreover, he wasn't moved to much in the way of pity. Lukas' readings on the north had described the Rigelians as harsh, brutal, and with little regard for life; yet the Arthegnii were the only thing worse, in reality more animal than man. The trail of butchery their army had left in its wake was a sound confirmation. But Lukas doubted Forsyth had put so much thought into it - to him, the Arthegnii worshipped Duma, and deserved death for it, the more brutal the better.

Lukas understood why Forsyth felt the way he did, and would have shared his anger were it possible. He wished it were possible. When Lukas killed men all he felt was his spearhead tearing through flesh, or his hammer crushing bone; it didn't seem much different from anything else he did. It was as unremarkable as tying his bootlaces. Lukas wanted to match Forsyth's passions for something. Anything. What would it take of him?

He had some idea.

"Very well, Forsyth. Help me ready the fire."


After two weeks in the saddle, Clair's squadron was done their survey of the east

The Rigelian army's encampment came into sight, at long last, in the early evening, as the light dimmed. Finding them had been no mean feat. Unlike the Arthegnii, who left a wake of torched villages streaming smoke into the sky, the imperial field army typically kept a lower profile in in their movements. Clair had eventually found them by navigating directly away from the barbarian army towards an enormous fire to the west, far away enough so that only the Rigelian army could have lit it, whatever their reasons may have been.

Seeing the dull campfires coming over the horizon left her with a good feeling, though the disparity in size still worried her; the imperial camp's footprint was half of the savages', put generously. It was getting late in the day, and they were soon to give up the search and build a camp of their own; Clair appreciated that the Rigelian stewards would have tents and food prepared for them in advance. She spotted that they had even set out a landing strip for them in the camp's center, with a long and flat zone of clear ground for a steady descent. At its far end, Clair spotted a signalling light: it flashed twice at her, then gave a long interval, then flashed twice again, repeating to make sure she spotted it. Clear to land , it meant. She stuck her right hand up, fingers and palm flat and perpendicular to her path of flight, then lowered it, the signal indicating ' Clear to land, in behind me,' to her fellow riders. Clair did a final once-over of her kit, tapping her harness, bow case, and quiver, finding all secure. Satisfied, she leaned forward, and her pegasus dove.

They picked up speed and the wind whipped against her face, the cold cutting at her exposed face - she had not missed Rigel's weather since leaving it at the war's end. At forty feet they levelled out, bled speed, and came in for the landing, slowing to a gallop's pace as they passed over the last tents before the runway. She touched down gracefully, and her pegasus slowed to a gentle canter by the middle of the field, then to a trot, and then a walk. Clair checked over her shoulder, finding the others descending one-by-one. Zofian grooms rushed over to help her from her haness, followed by a Rigelian aide who had been waiting, but as Clair guessed, not speaking, with the grooms.

"Greetings!" she said, "How may I address you? Goodman…"

"Sir Clair. I trust you have prepared your report for Emperor Albein," he said.

How friendly.

"That would be correct," she said.

"This way."

Clair hopped down from her horse and passed her helmet to one of the grooms, following along with the man.

"How is Alm?" Clair tried.

"Busy. Emperor Albein works long in the defense of the empire."

"CLAIR! STOP AT ONCE!" sounded the sharp voice of Lady Helen, the senior pegasus knight on the expedition. Clair snapped to a halt and turned toward Helen. She was short, harsh, and stick-thin; some of the younger sisters called her Helen-Horsehead when she wasn't present, alluding to her far-apart, bulging eyes, but Clair had long thought better of it.

"Clair! Is your report ready for General Alm?"

The Rigelian aide stepped in. "It is. I am bringing her to speak with Emperor Albein this instant."

Helen scowled at him, then looked past to Clair.

"It is just as the kind man said," Clair offered. "I can summarize our findings for you after I see Alm."

"Very well," said Helen.

She looked Clair head-to-toe, then reached over and pinched her thigh, testing how much flesh rolled between her fingers. "Good. You've lost weight. Those damned pegasi can only carry so much, can't they?"

"Yes, Lady Helen."

"Now go!"

The Rigelian coolly turned on the spot and strode away; Clair matched his brisk pace away from Helen, who stalked off to greet the rest of the squadron. Clair didn't feel like speaking anymore, and he offered nothing, so they walked in silence until they reached Alm's tent.

Alm sat at the table's head, on the far end from Clair's entranceway. To his left sat her brother, then Sir Lukas and Sir Forsyth, then a handful of other Zofian knights down the rest of the table - two of Alm's village friends were among them. Across the table were the Rigelians; she recognized General Ezekiel, and a few others Alm had defeated in the war, but the rest were strangers. Alm held the meeting well - in fact, he had become quite the man. It was in his blood; a dark, neat beard and a tidy haircut were all that was needed to bring it out.

"Emperor Albein, sir," said the aide, "Sir Clair has arrived back from her patrol."

"Thank you, Marlow," Alm said. The aide saluted and slunk out of the tent, and Alm looked at her, his expression regal.

"A most fortuitous arrival, you have made, upon this majestic autumn day, Sir Clair," Alm said.

Clair chuckled, and looked to the confused Rigelians. In Zofia, female knights used 'lady', whereas all Rigelian knights used 'sir'. "I see one of you has taken it upon himself to teach the young emperor to read. Truly a brave and commendable undertaking!"

"I became a man of letters a great eon before donning the imperial crown of Rigel, sweet Lady Clair. My meritorious band of companions had no hand in it."

" Meritorious ! Such a long word for the young man. Your tuition was done most excellently."

Alm's deadpan expression crumbled, and he broke into a chuckle. "The young man can't keep up with you. How are you doing, Clair?"

Clair sensed some impatience, from both sides of the table. "All the better, now my patrol is concluded. I have a report you would wish to hear."

"Right, let's get straight to it. Come around here," Alm said, indicating to the map spread before him and those nearest. Clair circled around the Zofian end of the table, giving her brother and Lukas a quick smile before reaching Alm's side. He stood to lean over the map, showing the broad outline of the southeast empire.

Rigel wasn't the empire it had once been. Like Zofia, it used to cover the entire continent east to west, but in the last century, the declining climate had left to the abandonment of the eastern provinces. East of the mountains, Zofia had turned to desert, while the Rigelian lands across the inlet had turned into a toxic, frozen marsh - the Deadlands - in which only the Arthegnii barbarians, and various monsters could survive in. Every few decades an Arthegnii king would grow strong enough to beat the other tribes into submission and direct their assaults against the remainder of the empire - this new King Zekstriss was just the most recent of many; his own father led the Arthegnii in their last wars with the empire, dying to Rudolf's lance.

Clair laid out several weeks' worth of observations. "We are presently situated here," Clair said, pointing to a spot northwest of Fear Mountain, "and the Arthegnii camp is here," she said, pointing nearby, "three days' march east of our position. It is hard to give an adequate estimate of their forces; their camps are disorganized and sprawling, and they march less as an army and more in a number of separate units. I would guess between twenty and thirty thousand."

That didn't cause shock, at least, among those present, but instead they seemed to take it in with uneasy acceptance. "Then they outnumber us by at least two-to-one," Alm said. He seemed to be weighing the unfortunate news, finding the light rather than falling into despaid. "Our cavalry will be far stronger than theirs, and they won't have much to shoot at us. Thank Lukas for that."

Clair had noticed that - in the war, nearly every patrol saw some ambitious Rigelian archer who tried to pot himself a pegasus knight - but in the last weeks she hadn't had a single arrow loosed at her. She chuckled, "What did Lukas do with their bows? Did he sneak into their camp and break every last one?" she asked.

Alm chuckled softly. "Close enough. They left their arrows stashed in a forest, so Lukas burned the whole thing down."

So that would explain the fire. Lukas has the oddest ideas.

Alm grew serious again, and redirected the conversation back to the vital points. "So, we know they're moving east. But where in particular?"

"They are retreating northeast to the narrow points of the inlet, where they have constructed pontoon bridges. Two have been built, some distance apart from one another. One connects to the northern road the Arthegnii are following, while the other connects to the southern road you have been marching on."

"That's right. We've mostly been shadowing them, trying to catch up and figure out their numbers. Dammit. They never built bridges in the past... at this rate they'll slip away before we can catch them. Again," Alm muttered, with a deep frown and clenched fists.

"Not necessarily," Clair said.

Alm perked up immediately. "How? Let's hear it."

"We made contact with a detachment of your garrison troops, far east of either army."

Alm raised an eyebrow. "We haven't been able to find any that hadn't retreated, or been destroyed outright. What condition are they in?"

"Truly, lovely men, with such valor and… variety of phrases for the female anatomy. Regardless! By the northern crossing, there remains a fortified town holding out against them, with a store of blasting powder. The bridges are lightly held, and the men are hidden and ready to move against either bridge if we provide assistance and pass along the order from you."

Alm stared into the map. "That's Relastan - it's walled, with enough of a garrison to hold out for some time, but we'd assumed the Arthegnii sacked it. We must march to relieve it if they haven't. Magnus, how many days' march are we from the crossing points?"

One of the generals Clair recognized spoke up. "At standard march, ten for us. Eight for the Arthegnii."

"And do the roads join at any point?"

"We flew over their host on our return; the Arthegnii are presently encamped at the final crossroads. Beyond it, the roads separate, and the forest grows far too dense to move an army through. They could certainly not bring their wagons and prisoners."

Alm gained the faintest hint of a smile. "I think I've got a plan. Two days from now, we send a group of pegasus riders to meet the garrison troops. They'll destroy whichever bridge the barbarians move to cross. We follow them down the road until they've got nowhere to run. Any thoughts?"

General Ezekiel had a hand resting on the table, and silently raised a single finger before speaking.. "What shall the order of march be?"

"Your will lead with the Rigelian cavalry, followed by the field army's infantry, then the Zofian knights," Alm directed. "Sorry, Clive, but they know the grounds better than your men."

Clive smiled. "No offense is taken, Alm. We are only glad to assist our friends."

"Thanks, Clive. It means a lot," Alm said, then glanced over at General Ezekiel.

"The… gesture is appreciated," he said, upon the prompting.

"Thank you, General Ezekiel. I speak for all of Zofia when I say we look forward eagerly to working with Rigel in the future, even beyond the resolution of our present crisis."

General Magnus cut in for Ezekiel, sparing him from speaking again. "The sentiment is matched," he said.

After a second of silence, Alm finally spoke, out to the whole table "I thank you for being here today. I've lived in both Zofia and Rigel, and I've come to understand more unites the two nations than divides them - and we must stand as one against the Arthegnii, or we will be washed away. But our cause is just. If we all play our parts, then our victory is assured."

Alm rose to his full height, looked over the map of Rigel with a small smile. "I believe in all of you."


Notes

1. I think my formatting has drifted - chapter 1 had bigger spaces between dialogue lines, while here I tend to just end the line, and leave the spaces for between blocks of dialogue, and regular paragraphs. Not sure which is better, and am open to opinions. Just fuck with the line spacing until it looks good to you.

2. A few worldbuilding flops on my part in this chapter:

- The trees Lukas and Forsyth were riding through match up much better with the sort of tree that grows upwards, then has branches that spread out (I don't even know the term for them), than they do with the sort of pine trees I think would likely be growing in a climate as cold as Rigel's. But whatever. I've long since accepted biology as something I don't intend to learn anything about.

- Arrows could be picked up by the people they were shot at and sent back at the guys shooting at them in the first place. I think a bundle of them would probably hold up better to a fall from a tree than I wrote them doing here. But, fuck it (again), I needed that scene and I wasn't about to let the structural integrity of an arrow stop me.