"Tensions have always run high between the tribal clans known colloquially as the Grasslanders, and the Confederacy of Zexen. Among the more peculiar sub-cultures in the region, a group calling themselves the Wind Seekers are of special note. Existing on the cusp between the Grasslands and Zexen, these people have grown to meld the spiritual beliefs of the tribal clans with the organized religion of the Zexens, creating something new; something of their own. Ironically, while such an amalgam of cultures could serve as an outstretched hand—an olive branch—calling for peace between the Confederacy and the Grasslands, history has seen these people marginalized, even shunned. Like many half-breeds, the Wind Seekers find only prejudice on both sides of their cultural heritage."

—Excerpt from Travelogue of the West, by Graham of Tinto

Chapter XV: A New Journey

-Hugo-

The light of the afternoon sun filtered through the smudged windows on his left-hand side as Hugo stepped inside the Guild Hall. He paused, and looked out over the foyer with a strange, disorienting feeling. The polished marble tiles were draped in the long shadows of empty suits of armor lined up along the walls, and liveried men and women passed across the floor around him, quiet but for the clack of boots and shoes against marble and wood. Had nothing changed? For a moment, he could almost imagine that the events of last night had not transpired. That they might have been a dream.

The sound of a man clearing his throat tore Hugo from his thoughts. He turned to see a balding man sporting a handlebar mustache eyeing him with a quizzical look and a distasteful curl on his lips. "May I help you… sir?" The last bit seemed a hesitant afterthought. The man's hands were coupled behind his back as he scanned Hugo's Karayan outfit with an increasingly dismayed look on his face.

"Uh, yes," Hugo said. "I want to see Chris." He glanced around behind the man, vainly hoping to spot her somewhere and save himself the trouble of exploring the building. All he could see were servants and citizens.

"Chris, sir…?" the man said.

"That's right." Hugo added a vigorous nod for emphasis. Silence passed between them for a moment, and then Hugo said, "Oh, you don't know her?" There are too many people in this place! I assumed everyone would know her, Hugo thought. "She's a knight, with silvery hair. Have you seen her?"

The servant's eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets, but the surprise never reached his face. "You are referring to Captain Lightfellow, sir? The Silver Maiden?"

"Right, the Silver Maiden. Though I don't think she likes being called that," he chuckled. "She's supposed to be around here. Where is she?"

"The Silver Maiden," a new voice called out harsh and firm, "Is in the chapel, and you won't even get close." The clatter of metal armor accompanied the voice as it drew closer from a side corridor, and a man stepped into the hall from a shaded threshold.

"Sir Borus!" the servant exclaimed. "There is a… a boy here asking for—"

"I heard," the knight said. As his face came into the light and his eyes turned on Hugo, both seemed to recognize each other at once. Borus' eyes widened, and his hand reached for the sword at his side.

Hugo danced back in time to see the knight's sword leap from its sheath. "Spirits' curse, calm down! I'm just here to see Chris!" he said.

Rage twisted the knight's features. "How dare you use that name, barbarian?" he spat. "You have some nerve coming here, sneaking around Vinay like an assassin!"

"Assassin?!" Hugo shouted. "I just walked through the front door!" His cheeks burned as he recalled how he climbed through the window into Chris' bedroom some nights before. I'm not an assassin, he thought.

"This is a ruse!" Borus said. "Guards! Arrest this intruder!"

Hugo backed off as he glanced several guardsmen approaching fast from all sides. "Are you insane? Didn't she tell you what happened?"

"I know very well what happened, barbarian," Borus growled, walking towards him with sword drawn.

Hugo gritted his teeth in frustration. "May the Spirits forsake you!" He turned, bumping into a pedestal and knocking a colorful vase onto the floor. The crash of pottery drowned out the shouts behind him as he ran. Leaping over a bench, he nearly bowled into a young woman coming through the door. She shrieked, and a basket of bread rained down on his shoulder as he pushed through, grunting an apology.

Looking back one last time as he left the shadows of the Guild Hall for the bright afternoon sun, he saw the furious knight trying to push through a throng of servants making their way into the building. Within moments, Hugo had rounded a corner and snuck into a back alley.

With a groan, he flopped down against the wall and muttered a curse under his breath. Spirits' mercy, what stubborn fools!

-Chris-

"Milady, everything is prepared for the ceremony," Percival said.

"Excellent. Thank you," Chris said, rising from the stool. "I will take it from here."

With a sad look on his face, Percival nodded. "We will pray for Sir Roland's memory in the meantime."

"Yes. Good." She nodded slowly. With a heavy heart, she entered the chapel through the side door, smoothing the chafing skirts of her regal armor. Passing between the pews, she climbed the dais and knelt before the altar. She barely noticed the robed priests who passed in silence through the chamber.

Clasping her hands upon the polished stone surface, she closed her eyes, and began to recite Sir Roland's requiem in her mind.

-Hugo-

"Refresh my memory: why exactly are we sneaking around on the rooftops in the middle of the afternoon, did you say?" Nash asked.

Hugo spared the man a glance as he ducked through a narrow window and emerged onto a network of sturdy rafters near the ceiling of the chapel. "I didn't say."

"Precisely," Nash said his voice lowering to a whisper as he crawled through the window behind him.

Leaning down to steady himself against the wooden beams, Hugo squinted at the marble floor beneath them. Forty, maybe fifty feet? Too far to fall, anyway. At least I've got the rune, just in case. He convinced himself it would make a difference. He kept his eyes fixed on the rafters as he crawled forward to get a better look inside. "Listen; we need to rescue Chris again."

"Really," Nash said.

"Really. They damn knights have her locked up, again."

"Oh. The knights have locked the captain up… in here?"

Hugo turned his head to frown at Nash. "Yes. That's what the grouchy one said. What's-his-name… Borus." His eyes darted below, and he lost his balance.

For a moment, his breath caught. Hands nailed about the edges of the wooden beam upon which he perched, Hugo heaved a sigh of relief, and then kept crawling ahead.

"Let's clarify your statement, shall we?" Nash said as they slithered across the rafters like some clumsy snakes, "Sir Borus Redrum, of the Zexen Knights, informed you that Lady Chris Lightfellow, Captain of the Zexen Knights, had been taken prisoner, and is being kept in this very room?"

Hugo paused. "Well, sort of. I don't know why they'd keep her in here…" Grabbing a tight hold, Hugo inspected the chamber below, and as his eyes took in the sights of the chapel, he was struck by the opulence of its furnishings. Row upon row of pews with elaborately carved backs stood on glossy white marble tiles, stretching out to either side of a central aisle decorated with a luxurious blue carpet. Intricate stone statues loomed over a large dais near the far wall, and the walls were decorated with myriad projections; busts of winged people extending their arms invitingly. Light filtered into the massive room through the stained-glass windows on the left-hand side, flooding the furnishings with an eerily colorful glow.

"Huh. What is this place, anyway?"

"If I'm not mistaken," Nash began, pausing to grunt disdainfully as he tore his sleeve on a loose nail, "This is where the Zexen elite come to spend time with their most exalted imaginary friend."

Hugo shot him a quizzical look.

Nash looked up from his ruined shirt and grimaced. "It's a temple dedicated to the Zexen Goddess."

"Oh."

Nash fiddled with the frayed cloth of his sleeve for a few seconds before shaking his head in dismay. "This had better be worth it…" he muttered under his breath.

Shuffling forward along the rafters, Hugo turned to glance at Nash. "Don't you have temples in Harmonia?"

"Yes, but we prefer our gods in the flesh," the man said with a smirk. A look of distaste spread on his face as he brushed cobwebs from his jacket. "Speaking of flesh—hides, that is, and more specifically the preserving of our hides—are you sure you want to do this?" The conspiratorial look on Nash's face had faded into something more closely resembling boredom as the man took in the sights of the ground floor without concern.

"Why? You want out? I can do this myself."

Nash looked almost hurt. "Heavens, no! We're breaking into a chapel. I love it. This is like my academy days all over again." A big grin spread on his lips.

Hugo shook his head. I can't figure him out, he thought.

Advancing past a supporting beam, Hugo took a firm hold of the rafters and leaned down to get a closer look. The footsteps of several figures down below echoed through the reverent silence, but Hugo recognized none of the people that paced below. He gazed ahead, past row upon row of pews, until his eyes fell on the raised dais against the far wall. There, kneeling before a stone podium, sat a lithe, armored figure with pale hair. She was abandoned, and unguarded.

"There she is," he whispered. Biting his lip, he glanced sideways before sliding over to a ledge by the wall. His hands trembled with effort as he held onto the rafters. "I'm going down. Are you coming?"

Nash crawled up beside him and planted a supporting hand on his shoulder. He gazed down, and as Hugo gauged the thoughtful look on the man's face, Nash's mouth twitched momentarily.

"Actually, I think I'll just sit back and watch. I'll, uh, cover your back."

Hugo nodded grimly. "That's a good idea." He noted that Chris' eyes were closed where she knelt before the podium. He exhaled with relief when he saw a faint motion. What kind of punishment is this?

Taking a deep breath, Hugo grabbed hold of a rough supporting beam, and nodded at Nash before sliding down the corner of the room. His eyes roamed the large chamber, fearful of being discovered by the menacing robed figures wandering the chapel. The shadows sheltered him from view.

Touching down on the marble tiles with a dull thud, Hugo quickly ducked down behind the end of a pew, wincing at a splinter lodged in his hand. He suckled at the smarting finger as he glanced up, and saw Chris stir and look out towards his position. She seemed distraught, but unharmed. Seeing nothing, her attention returned to the podium, and with a big sigh, she closed her eyes anew.

Heart pounding, Hugo ran along the floor, keeping his head beneath the back of the pew, before reaching the dais. He crawled soundlessly up the steps and emerged behind the podium. Rearing his head up, he slowly placed his fingers on Chris' locked hands.

Chris nearly fell backwards. Her eyes popped open with shock, and her mouth fell open when she saw him. "What is… What are you…" she stammered.

Hugo motioned for her to hush. "I'm here to get you out."

Chris sat back up, but she shook her head slowly, as if denying his presence in her mind. A long moment passed before she settled for a question: "How did you get in here?"

Hugo shrugged. "It's becoming a habit."

Chris glanced back towards the aisle. She smiled and nodded at someone in the distance before turning to face Hugo with a worried look. "You must not let them see you in here."

"I know," Hugo said, feeling insulted. He could not help but wonder at her guards—how those feeble men could keep her locked up inside this place, he could not imagine. Maybe they're rune bearers, or worse… It would be best not to test them, he decided.

"Quick," he said, grabbing her wrist, "We can climb up the rafters and get out that way."

A look of utter disbelief came over Chris' face. "Have you gone quite mad?"

"No, you'll be fine. It's not dangerous," he said, gesturing at the ceiling.

"That is not what I mean. What are you doing here?"

Hugo frowned. "Don't be so damned proud. A simple 'thank you' would be nice." He tugged at her, but she yanked her hand back and freed herself from his grip.

"Thank you?!" she said, standing up with a glare and hands balled into fists. "What exactly…" She glanced back, flushed, and lowered the tone of her voice to a whisper. "What exactly is it that I should give thanks for?"

Hugo wrung his hands in frustration, and then sighed. "Fine." Why can women never admit it when they need help? "Why do you keep walking into their traps, anyway?"

Chris' head tilted dangerously. "Pardon me?" she said, each word an icy dagger.

A new voice echoed from down the aisle. "What is going on in here…?!"

Chris groaned as she turned towards the approaching man, and Hugo glanced between her and the rafters. No time! If she had her sword…

Without a moment's hesitation, he leapt across the podium. His knife left its sheath even as he took up a protective position in front of her. "She's coming with me," he growled.

For the second time that day, someone nearly fell at the sight of him. The gaudily dressed man gasped loudly, steadying himself on a jeweled crosier as he righted the embroidered white hat atop his head. "What is this?!" he shouted, smoothing his open robes in a huff. "A barbarian in the Goddess' chapel? Guards!" His voice rose to a shriek.

"High Priest," Chris started, motioning for him to calm down, "Please, this is all a misunderstanding…"

With a slam that echoed through the chamber, the tall wooden doors at the entrance of the chapel were swung open, and the clank and clatter of iron mail sounded the approach of two knights.

"Milady!" Borus cried out. The man broke into a sprint slowed only by the weight of his armor. Percival followed at a light jog.

Hugo sighed. "Here we go again…" His blood pumped as he twisted the knife in his hand from side to side.

"Enough," Chris said, pushing Hugo aside to take center stage on the dais. "High Priest, there is no need for violence. Sirs Borus and Percival, stand down your weapons."

Hugo gaped at her. "You think that'll work?"

She leveled a cool gaze at him. "I am quite certain."

"And you're asking me if I'm insane," he muttered.

Hugo watched in surprise as the knights sheathed their weapons. Their movements ground to a slow walk. Borus did not look pleased, and kept a hand planted firmly on his sword, even as Percival watched Hugo with a look of amused disbelief.

Hugo turned to Chris. "Am I missing something?" For some reason, he thought he heard the sound of faint laughter coming from somewhere overhead.

"Evidently," Chris said with a small sigh. Closing her eyes for a moment, she shook her head. "High Priest, I am sorry for this. This young man was under the impression that I had been captured…"

"Yeah, where'd I ever get that idea," Hugo muttered under his breath.

Chris shot him a dangerous look. "…and that I was being held captive in the chapel." Her back straightened and she stuck her nose skyward, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Somehow."

Hugo sheathed his knife indignantly. "Look; that ironhead"—he pointed to Borus—"said you were in the chapel, and he wouldn't let me in. I just busted you out of a cell after another knight put you there. What was I supposed to think?"

Chris' eyes flashed with anger. "Perhaps you were supposed to think at all. Did you ask why you were not admitted?"

"I didn't get a chance! Your mad dog almost gutted me for even mentioning your name!"

"How dare you!" Borus shouted.

"Silence, Sir Borus," Chris said, waving a hand at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on Hugo. "You exaggerate. I am certain he was merely being protective. You were not allowed inside because I was holding a private ceremony for a knight fallen in battle. A ceremony that you interrupted, I might add."

Hugo could almost hear Borus growl, but ignored it. "Exaggerated? Yeah, right. He would've killed me if he'd been a faster runner." Despite the anger, a sense of shame was building inside. I interrupted a burial rite. Damn… She's right; I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Why didn't Nash say anything? He directed an annoyed thought at the smug Harmonian perched on the rafters above.

"You should've said something earlier," he tried lamely, feeling his cheeks redden.

"I should have? Well, forgive me; evidently I was too preoccupied with the utter confusion that came with the realization that the person I least expected to see in this chapel—aside from Leon Silverberg or Hikusaak—had snuck in through the rafters." She sounded almost frantic as her voice built with each word. Pausing to catch her breath, she searched his face for an explanation. Under the warmth of his burning cheeks, Hugo could not find the words.

"Through the rafters!" she exclaimed again. "Good Goddess' candor… This is not happening," she murmured.

"This is an outrage," the High Priest said, "A barbarian in the Goddess' chapel… He must leave at once!"

Borus nodded vigorously. His eyes seemed intent on burning holes in Hugo's head. "You'll pay for this, barbarian! You've disturbed the Silver Maiden's sanctity by breaking into this place!"

"Sanctity?" Hugo snorted. "That's ridiculous. We've slept together."

Borus seemed to choke, and he gasped for air. Chris' face bloomed with crimson, and her eyes fluttered close for a second.

"What? What'd I say?"

"Are you certain that is what you meant to say, Hugo?" Chris asked.

"Well, sure. We've spent the night together in the same tent… Well, house. Isn't that what it's called?"

"Not quite," Percival chimed in. He sounded amused, if anything.

Borus seethed as he fondled the hilt of his sword. "That's bad enough!"

Hugo sighed. I'll never understand the ironheads. "It's not like there was anything improper about it. You even had a night garment on when we were in my room, right? I didn't, but that's fine because I'm a man. Right?"

He arched his brow, trying to get an answer out of Chris. To his surprise, the woman was watching him with the most peculiar look of stunned incredulity. Her mouth gaped open, and her eyes bulged from their sockets as she stared in silence.

"…Right?"

Once again, Hugo thought he heard a soft but persistent laugh from somewhere overhead.

Irksome as it was, he tried to ignore it.

-Borus-

Borus found the captain already dressed in traveler's clothes, and she was just lacing up her tall brown boots as he approached the room. He hesitated, watching her for a moment through the doorway, before rapping his knuckles against the frame and entering. She still wore her hair braided close against her head.

To his great shame, the sight of her stirred the anger he had felt before. He could not shake the image of that filthy barbarian doing… things… to her. It was simply not right.

She is too good for him, he thought. Too good for anyone, he added ruefully.

"Ah. Sir Borus," she said, looking up at him, laces still in hand.

"Let me help you with that…" Borus said, timidly approaching and kneeling.

"No," she said curtly. Shying away, she quickly finished lacing up the boot and stood to stretch out and face him.

Standing in silence for a moment, he felt shame well up. I still can't believe she's alive. Though something remained of the initial sense of joy and relief, dark thoughts had clouded the elation. If she were not at Iksay, I've confessed to this 'Chimera' instead. I gained absolution from a contemptible imposter. What does that mean? Now more than ever, the anxiety was building within. If he could only work up the courage to—

"Is something the matter?" Chris asked.

"No."

"Very well. I want you to be more respectful towards Hugo."

"What?" Borus blurted out. His eyes darted back to her face—in breeches, her features were all the more acute. She calls him by name? His thoughts darkened.

"We owe much to that young man," she said. "I do not wish for him to feel unwelcome."

Borus' eyes nearly leaped from their sockets. "Milady…! Are you serious?"

"I understand your apprehensions, Sir Borus. Your concern is noted, and appreciated, but Hugo is not our enemy. Surely you have come to the same conclusion after what has happened."

"I… I see." Shaking with rage, he tried not to let it show. "He showed no respect for the ceremony. He showed no respect for Sir Roland, who was slain by his very kin."

"We have said our farewells, Sir Borus," she said slowly. "I understand how you feel, but there is no time. We are at war."

Borus bit his tongue, but could not contain the words. "Yes! We're at war with the barbarians!"

Chris was silent for a moment. After a second, Borus felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned with a jerk to see Percival shaking his head at him. "The captain is right, Borus."

"Why did we allow this boy inside the Goddess' chapel?! He should die for trespassing on the funerary rites!"

"Do not be so quick, Sir Borus," the Captain said, raising her voice, "To arrange for another funeral." Something fierce had come over her face, and Borus was startled at the sight. It was directed at him. There was a silence between them for several seconds, and then she sighed. "Enough of this. Hugo is a boy, and not of Zexen. He could not have known what he interrupted. Yes, we are at war, but not with the… the Grasslanders. We are at war with Harmonia, and we must stand with the Grasslanders, even if it galls us."

"I will never stand with the barbarians!" Borus spat. "Never! Have you forgotten Sir Galahad?!"

"Borus!" Sir Percival gasped. Borus regretted the words even before he saw the look of hurt pass over the Captain's face.

"I assure you," she began—

"I… I didn't mean…"

"I have not forgotten," she said icily. "This conversation ends here. Hugo and I will travel to Chisha together. We leave today."

Together? Borus thought. He felt a rage like poison in his veins. "Why?"

"We will negotiate a truce with Chief Lucia."

Borus tried in vain to hold his tongue. "Milady, you can't be serious! I can't leave you to a barbarian!" His heart pounded, warning him that the frustrated look on the Captain's face was fast approaching something dangerous.

"You leave me to no one," she said. "I am a knight, and your captain; not some trophy. You would do well to keep that in mind. In addition, you will no longer refer to the Grasslanders as 'barbarians.'"

Borus almost backed away under the Captain's withering glare, and he fought the urge to carry on with the argument. Frustrated, he knelt before her and bowed his head. "Yes, Milady." She is right. I am her knight, above all else, he reminded himself. That hasn't changed.

"I expect you to carry out my orders in the meantime. There is much to be done for the defense of Zexen. We must focus our attention on this."

"Yes, milady," Borus and Percival said at once.

"Sir Percival will travel to Iksay in order to bring Sir Salome up to speed about the current situation. Then, you will assist him in coordinating our defenses, while keeping up appearances to ensure that our enemies do not become aware of our recent actions. It will be as if I truly died. For now."

Perhaps it is I who have died, Borus thought morbidly, and gone to Hell. "What of me?" he asked.

"Sir Borus; you will remain in Vinay, and ensure that the fragile order we have brought about here does not collapse. You will report directly to Head Councilor Adeline, and act as commander of the knights in my absence."

"Milady, I would do more good at your side. Your task will be the most risky."

"That is noted, but you will remain in Vinay. The enemy believes me to be dead. They will not expect me."

Borus' heart sank as he nodded.

After the captain had left, Borus stood alone with Sir Percival. He faced the other man with a frown.

"Why didn't you back me up?" he wondered.

"Because she's right," he said with an apologetic shrug. "You're too upset, Borus. You're not seeing things the way they are right now."

"Bullshit." Borus colored as soon as the word was out of his mouth.

Percival chuckled. "See?"

Borus paced about the room, struggling not to draw in the lingering scent of the captain. "You're fine leaving her with the barbarian?" He stabbed a finger at Sir Percival's torso. "You're fine with that?"

Sir Percival waved his arm away and shook his head. "Like she said, we're not leaving her to anyone. She can take care of herself. Besides, if Hugo wanted to harm her, he's had plenty of opportunities before." He paused for a moment, glancing out the door, and then continued, "That lad's an odd one. Did you know that he's got Dunan blood? He carries the sword of a Highland General!"

Borus' brow furrowed. "No doubt pillaged from the war."

"Not according to Hugo. And remember, the Karayans fought alongside Highland, eighteen years ago."

"I wouldn't put it past them to loot their fallen allies," Borus sneered.

Sir Percival shrugged. "Anyway, I'll be leaving within the hour."

Borus blinked, and then nodded. "Right. I'm sure you're anxious to make sure your family's alright."

Sir Percival nodded. "I've got to check up on them. My sister has a way of getting into trouble even without help." He smiled, but Borus saw through the gesture. He was worried. And with good cause, he thought. I was there to fight for Iksay, but Percival must've been worried sick hearing about the attack.

"Good luck," he said. They shook hands, and he watched Sir Percival leave the room. Alone, he sagged down onto the bed with a sigh. His thoughts could not leave the boy. "I owe nothing to him," he muttered under his breath.

Come what may, I'll do what's best for the Captain. That's all.

-Hugo-

A cool breeze raced across the slanted rooftops on the hillside, sweeping over wharfs and piers and tugging at Chris' braided hair as she stood watching the ships roll in and out of the harbor on a restless seascape. Once again, she had doffed her armor and now wore snug black breeches and a sturdy but all-too pristine green jacket. It hardly looked like it had been worn at all, much less stained by muddy roads. Even the thigh-high boots of dun leather were shined and spotless.

"You're going like that?" he called out as he ran up to stand beside her.

Chris turned to face him, swallowing down something before speaking. "Yes. Why?" He grinned as she wiped traces of food from the side of her mouth, still chewing.

He patted her on the shoulder. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the half-eaten object in her hand.

She seemed momentarily confused, and perhaps a little embarrassed.

"Oh. It's a fruit called 'banana.' Our merchants import them from Alderedai, a country across the ocean. Try one." She grabbed one of the bent yellow fruits from atop a barrel and tossed it to him.

Cautiously, Hugo took a bite out of the thick skin, and felt a sour taste. Chris' laughter was a chime. "What?" he wondered.

"You have to peel it, first. I will show you."

Hugo watched with curiosity as she ate the banana. Suddenly, he was reluctantly reminded of something she had done in his dreams last night. With a quick turn, he faced away from her, hiding his coloring cheeks as his heart began to pound. I shouldn't be thinking about that. I shouldn't be having the dreams, at all.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

Too guilty to face her with his affliction, Hugo shook his head, but did not turn. "No; it's nothing. I just, uh, got something in my throat."

"Really? You hardly had a bite…"

"Uh, I'm a quick eater." Looking for an excuse, he desperately and inexpertly peeled the skin of the banana, reducing much of the fruit to mush.

"You are not choking, are you?" she asked with concern. Suddenly she was very close, ducking under his shoulder to get a better look at him. Flushing, Hugo coughed and turned sideways to escape the heady scent of lavender.

"It would be a fell blow to diplomatic relations if Chief Lucia's son choked on food proffered by the captain of the knights…" she said with a smirk.

"Right," Hugo said, feeling suddenly cocky, "Maybe you should take a look in there, just to be sure." The words had barely left his mouth when he began to feel the mortifying feeling of embarrassment. He added a laugh, and said, "Just a joke."

Her cheeks took on a rosy glow. With a small cough, she looked away. After a moment, she pointed towards a ship preparing to set sail along one of the dockside's major quays. "Have you ever been on a ship?" she asked.

Hugo followed her eyes, watching sailors and dockhands mill about, loading cargo and loosening ropes. "No."

"Ah. Of course not. How could you have?" she blurted out. She cleared her throat, and slowed her speech. "Lest you think I have been captured again, I should explain my pretext for coming here." She paused for a moment, stealing a glance at his face—he thought he saw a measure of smugness as she took in his embarrassed grimace. "Watching the ships has always helped me think. Adeline faces a difficult first time as Head Councilor. With the war, there is much that must be delicately handled. Not least of which is that she must secure treaties with the Alderedai government to insure a steady inflow of goods."

"Why's that so important?" The raucous shouts of cheery sailors sounded down the street, drawing Hugo's eyes momentarily. Fragments of bawdy songs and loud laughter reached them from the taverns along the waterfront as they stood feeling the weight of the breeze on the pier.

Chris made a tight-lipped smile. "Once the Harmonians enter the Grasslands, our supply lines with Tinto and Dunan will be severed, and relations with Alderedai will become integral to our chances of winning this war."

"What's so special about Alderedai?" Hugo asked with a shrug.

Chris stared out at sea as she replied. "They have not yet learned to fear the Harmonians."

"So? What's this got to do with the war?"

Chris turned to face him with a look of disapproval. "Do you not realize what this means? The inflow of produce and other victuals, not to mention the many luxury items the people of Zexen take for granted, would otherwise grind to a halt. Traditionally, Zexen relies on imported harvest from the Dunan area to keep our stockpiles adequate. Our people would starve."

Hugo tilted his head to one side and crossed his arms over his breast. "Your people, maybe. Grasslanders don't need others to give them food."

Chris' brow rose. "Give? It is no charity affair. We trade for our goods."

Hugo shrugged. "So what? You're still relying on someone else."

"No civilized nation can survive in a vacuum, Hugo."

His eyes narrowed, and he snorted. "So you're saying Grasslanders aren't civilized?"

Looking suddenly weary, Chris slowly shook her head. "That is different. You Grasslanders are a collection of simple tribes without any formal leadership."

Hugo gawked at her. "What?" He took one step closer and gestured indignantly. "Then what's my mother? Simple tribes?!" In the background, the shouting and singing was growing louder, but Hugo scarcely noticed.

Gesturing with a look of building frustration on her face, Chris was just about to speak—

"Hey maties, lass ho!" someone shouted. A cheer erupted; "Ahoy!" and laughter followed in the wake. Hugo and Chris turned to see a group of swarthy sailors stagger towards them, arms gripping each other's shoulders and hands holding onto half-empty bottles of cheap rum. Their eyes were fixed on Chris as they approached.

Hugo grunted. "Let's get out of here," he muttered, but as he looked at Chris, he saw disapproval and bemusement on her face. "Chris?"

"What is this nonsense?" she said to herself.

"Hey!" the lead sailor exclaimed. He was a broad-shouldered man with a wild mane of brown hair framing his round face. Raising a rum bottle in the air, he separated from the crowd and jogged over towards Chris with a laugh as his friends egged him on.

Hugo frowned, scanning his surroundings. Crates and barrels were stacked along the sides of the pier, but as the sailors approached, merry as they seemed, they were ringing in the two of them at the end of the pier.

The man made to speak, a stupid grin on his face, but Chris forestalled him.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "Do you have business with me?"

Hugo groaned inwardly at her regal posture and the imperious look on her face. She looked every bit the knight captain, but without her sword and armor, her alluring features would make her no more than a strumpet in the eyes of the sailors. I'd better do something. "Look—" he began.

Chris silenced him with an annoyed gesture.

"Hey, girl, yer lookin' for a good time, right? You don't wanna spend the evenin' with your little brother 'ere, do ya?" His friends exploded with laughter, as boisterously as only drunken fools could. Half paying attention to the spectacle, the men began to crowd around the crates and barrels of the pier, leaning and slouching against them. One man dropped his bottle in the water with a curse, and had to be restrained by his friends before he leapt in after it.

"I have no time for nonsense," Chris said. "Remove yourselves."

The sailor ignored her. He pulled closer, so close that Hugo could smell the rum on his breath. Chris' hand stroked her waist, searching but not finding a sword. "Yer pretty, honey. You could score big points with ol' Burls 'ere." Burping, he set his bottle down on a nearby crate, patting it affectionately. "You look like you've gots some great knockers. How 'bout you show 'em to the gang 'ere, 'n' we'll take real good care of ye." A short, snorting laugh escaped his big grin. His friends cheered loudly, echoing his request.

Hugo felt his face darken, but Chris seemed unperturbed. She glanced at her knuckles. "I think not. I am not an eager pugilist."

Burls looked confused. "Huh?"

"Listen to all 'em big words!" one man shouted. "Don't ye get tired from all them big— woah!" The man suddenly tripped and fell backwards to crash into a pile of boxes. Moments later, he was snoring.

"C'mon," Burls said, "Just let me have a little peak, maybe a nice feel. They look soft 'n' nice," he said, snickering oafishly.

Hugo's cheeks burned. "Chris—"

"Soft?" She made fists with her hands and half raised them. "Hardly. Unless you and your… friends… remove yourselves, I shalllet you all get an excellent taste of my 'knockers.'"

A loud cheer rose among the conscious sailors. Burls' face lit up like a lantern restocked with oil.

"Spirits!" Hugo exclaimed, stepping in front of her. "She didn't mean to say that; she's confused!" His blood pumped, but to his shame, he could not say how much was anxiety and how much was his stirred imagination.

Burls slapped his hands down on Hugo's shoulders and locked a set of eager, serious eyes on him. "Little bro, don't fret! You'll get your taste too! Yer Burls' bestest friend, 'member?"

"I love Vinay del Zexay!" another sailor shouted in exhilaration.

"Hugo? What are you saying?" Chris said with a frown. "They expect me to just lie down and take it!"

Another cheer erupted among Burls' crew.

Hugo pushed aside Burls' strong hands and clawed his fingers through his own hair. He turned to look at Chris and, after a moment, raised his eyes to where her face was. His cheeks burned. "Look, just don't speak, okay? Just be silent from now on!" Watching the baffled look of confusion mix with anger on her face, he herded Burls away from her position, towards the other sailors. "Listen," he said, glancing back to make sure she was out of earshot as he spoke in a low voice. "Here's the deal. You probably think you've got it made, with a girl that beautiful and eager, right?"

The sailors cheered. A bald, gap-toothed man grinned and ruffled Hugo's hair. "I never knew them Zexens got so dark-skinned," he muttered.

Hugo suppressed a sigh and hurried on. "It gets better. If you pile your stones just right, you'll be in for a night you'll never forget." He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces. "You all listening?"

Their voices muted, they nodded.

"Take a good look at that," he said, gesturing at Chris without turning. "Not only is she nuts for you, but she's got two younger sisters."

A murmur of gasps rushed through the crowd assembled around him. "How younger?" someone asked.

"Uh, just right," Hugo said. He raised his eyebrows and made a cupping motion at his breast, which elicited knowing grins from the sailors. "Also," he said, "They're twins."

The gasps rose to giddy giggles, and the sailors patted each others backs and shoulders with excitement. "Are her sisters comin' tonight?" asked a man, his eyes wide open with anticipation.

"Uh huh."

"I love Zexen!" one man shouted, hands raised in triumph.

"Wait," another man shot in, "Who're the twins?"

Hugo blinked. "Uh, they all are."

"Don't that mean they're tripods or something?"

One of the others swatted the man over the head. "That's triplets, ye idjit!"

"Then how could they be younger?"

Hugo shrugged, thanking the Spirits for the overpowering scent of rum on their breaths. These beavers would go for the nearest tree. "They're all younger."

A chorus of "oh"s and "ah"s rang out.

"So, three sisters," Hugo said, raising three fingers. "Uh, and they'll all be wearing skimpy dancer's outfits. I mean skimpy like barely clothes. Because, they're, uh, dancers. You wanna see them dance?"

A cry of agreement rose from the sailors. Burls grabbed his waist and lifted him into the air.

Hugo glanced back at Chris, who looked about to spring to his aid. He shook his head slightly in her direction, and she halted. "Great. But this is all on one condition." He waited a moment for the message to sink in. The sailors watched him with bated breath. He nodded. "You need to go straight to, uh… You see that building over there?"

"The Gilded Oar?!" one man shouted, excitement boiling over.

Giddy with excitement, Burls jostled Hugo like a rag doll. "Right. That's where you'll want to go. You need to wait there while me and my, uh, sister, go to fetch our sisters, and um, prepare for the night. For dancing."

Another cheer. The sailors started back down the pier towards the street, dragging their sleeping comrade with them. "So, uh… You need to set me down."

Burls laughed apologetically, letting go of Hugo so that he almost fell to the cobblestones. Straightening and wiping dust from his breeches, Hugo walked quickly back towards Chris. Behind him, Burls and the others took up their bawdy songs as they staggered towards the Gilded Oar.

She watched him approach with a puzzled look on her face. "Whatever did you say to them? They seem as giddy as men who found a pot of gold under a rock."

"Uh…" His eyes roamed all the way down her legs. Somehow, he found it difficult to banish the image of Chris in a dancer's outfit. Snapping his eyes back to her face, he shook his head. "I'll tell you later. I think it's time to find Nash and get out of Vinay." Not waiting for her to protest, he took her hand and led her away from the pier.

The sailors' song was long within earshot.

-Huarn-

Captain Huarn, commander of the Harmonian 282nd West Company, slapped his hand against his neck, squashing a gnat against his skin and cutting short its incessant buzzing. "Your move," he grunted.

Knight Class Gunner Serfein kept her eyes on the Scales board, never once lifting her gaze to meet his while they played. Her blond hair, streaked with dashes of colorful purple dye, was held up by three braids at the back of her head, and in full view while her cowl was down.

Huarn leaned back, watching the woman consider her move from among the True Runes. "How is it," he wondered, "That a woman who pays such meticulous attention to her appearance is so utterly indifferent to other people?"

"A true mystery," she said, picking up the piece representing the Dragon Rune. Her voice was low, and calm. Despite his best efforts, Huarn could never read any humor in it, even when she seemed to taunt him. She traced a circle through the air with the alabaster piece before placing it squarely beside the True Fire Rune piece.

Huarn raised an eyebrow. She still surprises me, sometimes. He scratched at the stubble on his jaw as he considered his move. The trestle table had been raised within moments of making camp, and the exhausting Grasslands sun now basked the wooden surface where the Scales board had been set up. The Sun Rune won't budge for another few moves, yet. What about the Soul-Eater? It's usually active early these days, but if I check to make sure, she'll know what I've got in mind…

Casually, he spoke. "Some mice were having a discussion. One mouse squeaked, saying that the Masked Bishop lost two of your men." He glanced at Serfein.

"Perhaps you should invest in a cat," she said. Her face remained drawn and dispassionate, but a slight twitch of the mouth betrayed the answer to Huarn's unspoken question.

So it's true. Immediately, he leaned over and grabbed the representation of the Soul-Eater. "See here, Serfein… I've got—"

"Sir!" a man shouted.

Arm still outstretched grasping the rune piece, Huarn fought a twitch of irritation as he turned to see Corporal Dawyyn run up past the wind-whipped pennons near the command tent. The man stopped and made his salute, forming the circle symbol against his chest. "Report!" Huarn said.

"Sir, our spies report that the Silver Maiden has been sighted in Vinay. Apparently, the rumors of her death were false. They've lost sight of her again, but she is believed to have left the city."

Huarn hid his surprise. Without looking, he slammed the Soul-Eater piece down against the Scales board and stood. He glanced at Serfein, who rose from her seat in the same breath. Had she anticipated this? "Well," he said, "Looks like it's time for us to earn our keep."

There was no reaction in her eyes. With a nod, Serfein pulled up her cowl. "If the Silver Maiden heads east, reacting to the Harmonian movement, she will pass through Brass Castle."

Huarn nodded, adjusting the hilt against his hip. "We'll intercept her there." Serfein will wring some answers out of her, if our spies cannot, he thought grimly.

-Hugo-

Shortly after the three of them had resumed their journey towards Brass Castle the following morning, Hugo turned to regard Chris with a small smile on his lips. "You've never dealt with drunks before, have you?" Akward atop the horse's back, he held tightly on the saddle's pommel. I'd give a lot to be astride Fubar, or even a merchath. Anything other than this strange beast.

"Hmm?" Chris turned her still-drowsy eyes on him. Hugo quirked his eyebrow, saying nothing. "Oh," she said, "You are referring to the colorful fellows we encountered last night."

"Right. The 'drunk-off-their-asses' fellows." Hugo glanced casually back to where Nash guided his mount forward along the forest trail. The Harmonian seemed preoccupied with studying the underbrush for signs of wildlife.

"I have never known a useful application for liquor," Chris said.

Hugo shrugged. "It's not so bad. Some people get really amusing when they're drunk. Others just don't know when to stop—like our friends from last night."

"I do not like to deal with people who have lost their common sense and courtesy."

"You thought that was bad?" Hugo chuckled. "I've faced down a stampede of saraaks drunk on rotgut. You should give that a try some day."

"I think not," Chris muttered.

Hugo laughed.

-Lucia-

Arm outstretched to lean against the bark of a nearby tree, Lucia crouched at the precipice of a low cliff overlooking the foothills of the mountain pass. The setting sun found the gaps in the canopy, warming her back and casting an orange glow over the trail leading up to the Safir mountain settlements. The otherwise lightly traveled path was now packed with bodies, and dust swirled about the trail, kicked up by the hard leather boots of a thousand soldiers marching in columns down the narrow pass. The banners that snaked their way down the trail, carried by marching soldiers, carried the devices of numerous infantry divisions, yet they all held the common theme of a central emblem: the Harmonian flag. Ominous drums and shrill trumpets sounded a beat that carried the invading army into the Grasslands.

"They're like locusts," Rina said at her side. Lucia turned her head and saw that the Safir chieftain's face was contorted with a barely restrained rage as she crept closer to the edge of the cliff. Lucia reached out her hand and held her back.

"Not too close," she said. Even with the sun in their back, she would prefer to take no chances.

Rina nodded, dropping onto her arms and knees in the thorny underbrush to peer down at the stream of soldiers. "They'll swallow it all up. Just like they swallowed Safir, they'll swallow Chisha, and then they'll swallow the entire Grasslands."

"We'll resist them," Lucia said.

Rina shot back a weak smile, but then nodded. "We will." She watched the procession below them for several seconds before adding, "Spirits! There must be twenty thousand soldiers streaming into the Grasslands."

Lucia rubbed her sore neck. "Maybe more," she said. "I've seen—"

A branch snapped behind them. Lucia froze.

"What?"

There it was again. Lucia turned—

—Just in time to duck as something flashed by her head and hit the tree at her side with a loud thwack. Her eyes darted round and saw a dagger protruding from the bark. She looked round for the assailant. In the dense foliage, something blue and white moved. "There!" she said, reaching back to pull out the dagger.

A string of curses flew from Rina's mouth as the woman raised her head and swept the hair from out of her forehead, activating the rune inscribed there. The crest glowed a bright, earthy brown color, and a crunching, ripping noise emitted from the woods. Someone gasped, and then the trees parted and snapped as they were pushed aside by a massive upsurge of dirt and stone. The wave of earth coalesced into a hand-shaped mass that held a human form in a vice-like grip. The man screamed, but the cry was cut short as dirt was stuffed into his mouth. Despite his struggles, Lucia only had time to see that the man was a Harmonian sentry before he was swallowed up by the hand of earth and buried within its collapsing mass.

Standing up, Rina pointed her palms towards the ground, where the snapped trunks of several trees were torn from what looked like a mound of upturned dirt. Within seconds, the dirt receded back into the ground, and the grasses pushed in from the sides, obscuring the site and leaving only the broken trees around it as witnesses to what had transpired.

Lucia swallowed, feeling a bit cold. "Efficient," she said, her voice breaking.

Rina gave a grim smile. "We'd better get back," she said, eyes flickering about the wooded area. "There's no telling how many filthy rats the Harmonians have sneaking about the forest."

-Dios-

Looking down at the marching columns of infantry making their way down the mountain trail in an endless procession of squads and companies, Adjutant Dios was surprised when the Most Exalted Bishop Sasarai suddenly reached out his arm to point his gloved hand at a forested cliff rising over the plains near the foothills below the mountain.

"Mother Earth Rune," he said in a monotone.

Dios blinked, and then said, "Pardon, Exalted One?"

Seated astride a magnificent pure white gelding of Falenan origin, the Most Exalted Bishop Sasarai let his arm fall to his side and glanced at Dios. "A woman. And she is skilled. That is unusual." His musing seemed to be directed at no one but himself.

Dios' eyes narrowed, and he tried to make out something in the forested area where the bishop had pointed. He could see nothing. "Should I divert some of our forces to deal with it?"

The Most Exalted Bishop Sasarai turned his head back to watch the soldiers milling down the trail. "No." He went on as if Dios had not spoken at all, "That woman will make an interesting adversary. It seems the Pagans have some skilled Rune Bearers."

Dios felt a chill run down his spine.

-Nash-

The look on Chris' face was a mixture of distaste and embarrassment as she fussed over her golden blonde hair, coiling and uncoiling a lock around her index finger.

"It looks strange," she said, walking slowly through the throng of hawkers, travelers, wagons and carts filling the courtyard of Brass Castle.

"I think it looks nice," Hugo said. An awkward look came over his face, and he added, "I mean, not as nice as your real color, but… nice… in a different way."

Nash winked at him, and the boy returned an embarrassed glare. He looked at Chris. Hair flowing free, and clad in the casual, snug-fitting clothes of a traveler, the Captain of the Knights seemed more feminine. She looks less stern. Maybe that's it. Or maybe it's just that her figure is more noticeable in those clothes. Hugo certainly seemed to have noticed. Nash fought to suppress a smirk.

"You might come to like it," he said with a shrug and a smile at Chris. He kept his voice low as people milled about them, bartering and conversing on their way through the cobbled courtyard. "If you don't, it should wash out in a few days."

Chris shot him a sharp look. "Should?"

He grimaced. "Well, if nothing else, your natural color will grow back in with time."

Chris cast a doubtful glance at Nash before sighing and picking up her pace. Behind her back, Nash and Hugo shared a smile.

The sound of breaking wood caught Nash's attention. He looked to the side of the road and saw a broken-down cart beneath the awning of a storefront, spilling fruit out onto the cobblestones.

"Sorry! Sorry!" a young woman exclaimed as she scrambled to salvage the apples and oranges, even as the fruit were smashed beneath careless boots and wagon wheels rolling heedlessly through the courtyard. People went about their business carelessly, but a woman in a nondescript brown cowled cloak halted suddenly as several oranges came to a rolling stop in her path. Gingerly, she stepped over the fruit, but as she made a little leap, the edge of her cloak caught on a loose nail in the frame of a storefront, jerking the fabric aside and revealing what lay beneath. Nash's eyes widened. Here?

He thought she glanced at him, and he immediately turned his face away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her collect herself and keep walking at a hurried pace.

Throat tightening, Nash let a casual smile play on his lips as he glanced around for Chris and Hugo. He found them kneeling to help the young woman collect the remnants of her wayward fruit.

"Hey!" the woman exclaimed suddenly, snatching a bruised orange from Hugo's hand. "Those are mine!" she said with a distrustful glower.

"I was just trying to help," Hugo said in a dull tone. If she had heard him, the young woman gave no sign. She hurried about the edge of the street, picking up apples and oranges and collecting it in her apron. She clutched possessively at the fruit, glaring suspiciously at Hugo.

Chris was approaching the young woman, about to speak with her when Nash stepped in her path. "Let it go. We've got a problem," he said.

Chris' brow rose.

"Not here," Nash said, glancing around. Motioning for her to get Hugo and follow, he started down the street.

Behind him, he heard Hugo protest, "I was just trying to help her!"

"I know," Chris said.

Walking calmly but quickly down the street, Nash ducked into the first alley he found; a deep alcove between two stores. Partially secluded from the street by a pile of barrels, the alley ended at a dead-end by the wall of Brass Castle. As the others joined him in the shade, he pushed up against the wall and turned to regard them, smile gone from his face.

"Ungrateful…" Hugo was still muttering, glancing back towards the street.

Chris glanced at him, then turned to look at Nash. "Well?"

"I just saw a Knight Class Gunner."

"Please elaborate," Chris said, clasping her hands at her waist.

Nash nodded thoughtfully before saying, "A Knight Class Gunner is the highest rank of a field operative of the Howling Voice Guild."

Chris' eyes widened. Hugo glanced at her, noting her reaction, then turned to Nash. "What's that?"

Nash sighed. "It's a secretive Harmonian organization of spies and assassins. They hold the secret of a weapon called a 'gun.' It's a ranged weapon, superior to a bow or crossbow, which can punch through wood or even metal."

This time, Hugo's eyes widened as well. He and Chris exchanged looks, and then they both turned to regard Nash. "We've fought people like that," Hugo said.

Nash blinked. "What? No, you haven't."

"Hugo is correct," Chris said. "In the village of Tarnay, we were attacked by two men who fit the description you provided. I did not realize that they were members of the Howling Voide Guild, until now."

Nash stared at them. "How did you survive?"

"We tricked them," Hugo said with a shrug that seemed to belie a stronger reaction, "And then we killed them."

Nash gaped.

"Do you think that they are looking for us?" Chris asked.

Collecting himself, but still looking at the two of them in disbelief, Nash shook his head, "I can't be sure, but it's safer to assume so. There's no reason for an agent of that rank to be here unless she had an important quarry. Someone like the Captain of the Knights."

Chris glanced at the street behind, seeming to mull over his words. "Security in Brass Castle must be lax these days. Perhaps it is the council's lingering influence."

Nash snorted. "You can't keep a Knight Class Gunner out of anywhere."

"Nevertheless," Chris said, "We cannot mobilize the soldiers of Brass Castle without proclaiming to the world that I am not dead." She looked back at him, over her shoulder. "Did this Knight Class Gunner notice us?"

"No," Nash said, kneeling down to tighten the laces of his boots as he glanced out onto the street hidden behind stacks of barrels. "But that doesn't matter. The Grasslands will be crawling with Harmonian troops by now. Advance companies will have pushed up right near Brass Castle. The gunner might be working alone, but she's not the only one looking for you."

Chris kept pulling a lock of hair out of her face. "We still have to pass through the eastern gate. The soldiers are much more thorough there. If the Harmonians are looking for someone they expect to pass through Brass Castle, that is where they will wait."

"Is there any way to get out of Brass Castle without going through the gate?" Hugo asked.

Chris shook her head. "Not that I know of."

Nash straightened. "If we had more time," he said, "I might've been able to find something, but we don't. They'll be looking for you, milady, and if they look hard enough, blonde hair won't fool them."

"What do you suggest?"

"We'll get a wagon, and keep you out of sight within it. It won't hide you from the soldiers at the eastern gate, but then again, they aren't Harmonian. They won't be expecting you."

Chris tugged at a lock of hair. "Had we expected this before leaving Vinay, we might have made far better preparations. We travel light. How could we obtain a wagon here without commandeering one?"

"I'll find one," Hugo said.

There was a dangerous light in Chris' eyes as she turned to regard him. "Are you suggesting we steal from the people of Zexen?"

Hugo's features hardened. "I didn't say that."

"Then how—"

"I said, I'll find one," he said with a shrug. Without another word, he turned and walked back to the street. Chris made to follow.

"No," Nash said, taking three quick steps up and grabbing her shoulder. Chris wrested out of his grip, but halted. Watching Hugo go, she nodded irritably.

-Lucia-

Seated in a ring around the table in the Chief Sana's home, the chieftains of the Grasslands clans sat in council. The conversation had run hot, and half a dozen plans had been argued for and shot down before they had arrived at a workable compromise.

Leaning in against the table, Lucia hovered a finger over the rough hide map showing the Grasslands. The features of the terrain were etched into the hide with hot coal, and Lucia jabbed her finger at the river ten leagues from the mountain pass. "How far from the ford is the tunnel's mouth?"

Dupa tilted his head to the side, reptile eyes staring unnervingly at her. "Less than half a league. We will take them by surprise."

Lucia nodded absently, looking at the map. "We will strike at their supply trains there."

Dupa's eyes narrowed. "Yes," he hissed. "If we must skulk about like cowards, instead of facing them head-on."

Lucia ignored him. They had been through that a dozen times. She exchanged glances with Rina, and received a sympathetic smile. She drew a deep breath.

This was going to be a long day.

Later, as Lucia climbed the stone steps leading out of the stone house's cellar and into the noonday light, a voice called, "Lucia!"

She turned her head, and smiled as she saw Sergeant Joe separate from a group of Gani-Bara warriors and waddle up to her. He tipped his helmet at her. "Chief Lucia," he greeted her.

Lucia nodded her head at him. "It is good to see you, Jordi."

"And you," he said. "I was thinking that… With how things are, perhaps I should go look for Hugo."

Lucia's heart sank at the reminder of the worry that lay constant in her heart. Was her son even alive? He must be. She could not allow herself to think otherwise. Throat tightening, she shook her head.

"No, Jordi. You are the most experienced warrior among the Gani-Bara. You are needed among your people. I cannot ask you to do that on my behalf."

Sergeant Joe leaned on his halberd, looking at his kinsmen practicing with their weapons in the middle of the village. "Hugo is dear to me, as well."

"I know." Lucia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "We must trust that he can take care of himself, now. I want to go after him myself, but… As chief, each brother and sister of the Karaya is a child to me. No matter how much it…" she let the words trail off, shaking her head.

"I understand," Sergeant Joe said.

Looking to the sky, Lucia tried to imagine her son soaring on Fubar's wings somewhere in the distance. Somewhere, somehow, he must be safe. He would return. In the meantime, it was up to her alone to find a way to end this war before it began. Hugo would have to take care of himself.

-Hugo-

"Well," Hugo said, returning to the alley, "I'm not good with horses, so you'll have to handle them."

Chris stood up from where she sat against the shaded wall of the blacksmith's shop. Her eyes widened as she looked past him to see the covered wagon drawn by a team of horses standing near the mouth of the alley.

"How did you—"

Nash returned from the street, pushing past Hugo and nodding appreciatively. "Great, Hugo. I don't think any of our little friends noticed, either. We should load up and head out right away, before they do notice."

Chris was eyeing Hugo suspiciously, alternating between him and the wagon. He shrugged, scratching the palm of his hand irritably. Walking out the alley, she looked both ways before gripping the side of the driver's seat. She hesitated, seeking a steady foothold.

Walking up behind her, Hugo put a hand on her waist and gave a supportive push. She froze, stiffening briefly, but then climbed up, placing her foot in his palm before pushing onto the seat. Turning, she grabbed his arm and hoisted him up. Hugo made to move past her, but she held her grip on his wrist.

Throwing himself up on the other side, Nash sat down by the reins and spared them a bemused look. "What? Did you see something new in each other's eyes?"

Startled, Chris' eyes wandered to Hugo's hand. She jerked it closer.

"Hey!" Hugo said. "What's—"

Chris turned his palm up to the light, frowning. "You sold it."

"Sold what?" Hugo asked, not meeting her eyes.

Chris' eyes snapped to his. "Your Wind Rune is gone, and in its place is a sore scar. I am led to believe that you sold it. I thought it was important to you?"

He shrugged. "Like Nash said, we need to leave."

Chris made to speak, but clamped her mouth shut, nodding. Glancing back at him, she crept in under the wagon's bonnet and drew back the flaps to shield the insides.

Looking down, Hugo saw a smug smirk on Nash's lips. "Don't say it."

"Say what?" Nash asked innocently.

Muttering under his breath, Hugo sat down beside the Harmonian and crossed his legs. He kept scratching the itch in his hand in frustration.

"Why not the Fire Rune?" Nash asked in a low voice.

Hugo shrugged. "She said it was affixed too poorly. Wouldn't take it out."

Nodding slowly, Nash said, "A word to the wise: Don't scratch it. It'll just get worse."

Hugo swore.

-Serfein-

"Report," Serfein said, carefully closing the door behind her as she stepped inside the rented room on the second story of the inn. The two Squire Class Gunners already in the room straightened immediately, one man rising from his seat on the bed as both saluted.

"Sir, no sign of the Silver Maiden," the other man spoke up. "People round here seem mostly to believe that she was indeed killed at Iksay."

Serfein stared out through the small window in the far wall, nearly opaque with filth, for several seconds before saying anything. Somehow, she could not shake the feeling that she had seen a familiar face in the courtyard. "She would have gone to great lengths to conceal her presence. We must assume that she is in disguise."

"Yes, sir," the other man said, "But it is possible that Captain Huarn's spies were mistaken." He hesitated before adding, "They are, after all, not of the Guild."

Serfein adjusted her gloves. "Captain Huarn is thorough, for a military man. We will continue to labor under the assumption that the Silver Maiden remains alive. Focus your attention on the east gate."

The two squires saluted in silence.

-Chris-

The wagon had stood still for what seemed like a long time when Chris pulled the flaps at the front aside to peer out past the driver's seat. Before the east gate, an entire caravan of wagons were lined up, most of them sporting an elaborate color scheme with motifs both tribal and religious. Zexen soldiers were milling about between the wagons, ducking low to look under the wheels here, and questioning driver and passenger there.

"What is this?" Chris asked.

"Wind Seekers," Hugo muttered.

Surprised, Chris looked out across the sprawl of wagons. Her eyes found a group of people aligned before the lead wagon, surrounded by a dozen soldiers. Their leader seemed to be an older woman wearing a colorful cotton dress bedecked with necklaces and armlets. She was gesturing grandly at the guard lieutenant positioned in the middle of the soldiers, clearly questioning her on her business.

Hugo fidgeted in his seat. "They've been like this since we got here. The soldiers just won't let them through."

Chris studied the Wind Seekers as they huddled in their wagons, surrounded by the insistent soldiers of the eastern gate. Their skin tones and hair colors were those of Grasslanders, but their garb was something of a mixture between Zexen fashion and the tribal patterns of Karayans, bedecked with the tribal charms worn by Hugo's people as well as the more traditional religious necklaces worn by worshippers of the Goddess.

"I have never known Wind Seekers to come this far west," she said. She hesitated for a moment, looking at the soldiers ringing in the caravan's leader, questioning her menacingly. "However, it should not be the Zexen custom to treat travelers like criminals," she said, immediately feeling a twinge of guilt. She drew a deep breath, avoiding Hugo's eyes. "I should talk with the soldiers."

Nash's head whipped around, and his eyes bore in on her. "Have you forgotten that we're trying to keep a low profile?"

"He's right," Hugo said with a shrug. "Besides, Grasslanders are always treated this way in Zexen. Even if they're Wind Seekers."

Chris frowned. "Well, perhaps it is time for things to change."

Hugo looked up at her in surprise. He was about to speak when Nash interrupted.

"This isn't the time to make changes. Leave it, or we're going to get spotted."

Hesitating, Chris observed the soldiers' behavior with distaste. Glancing back, she observed the line of wagons and people forming behind them, and sighed.

Suddenly, she heard a shout from ahead. Turning, she saw Hugo leap down from the wagon's seat before she saw the cause of the commotion: a group of soldiers were manhandling a Wind Seeker woman, gripping her wrists and pushing her up against a wagon's side, while others held the men of the caravan away at spear point.

Nash cursed. Wasting no time, Chris emerged from her cover and leapt down onto the ground, sprinting to catch up with Hugo. She heard Nash's voice call out behind her, but did not make out the words in the din. The Wind Seekers' leader was trying to push toward the woman, but she was being restrained by the soldiers surrounding her. Everywhere, people were pushing and shouting.

Hugo reached them first, grabbing the nearest soldier's shoulder and twisting him around to deliver a furious punch to his face. Surprised, the man was knocked flat on his back, and the soldiers scrambled, shouting as they faced the new threat. Immediately, several spears were thrust against Hugo's body, but his knife was already out, and he deflected them as he retreated. Behind the soldiers, the woman slunk away under the wagon.

"Halt!" Chris shouted. "Halt, in the name of the Knights of Zexen!" She drew her sword from its sheath, waving it around to get their attention.

The soldiers hesitated, gaping at her. Goddess, what have I done? She replaced the sword in its sheath and approached the soldiers with straight back and her head held high. They were whispering amongst each other as she drew closer.

Placing a hand on Hugo's shoulder as she pushed past him, she walked up to meet the lieutenant, who was approaching her through the throng.

She thought fast. "Lieutenant," she said, "I am Helen, of the Knights of Zexen." She lowered her voice as she approached the skeptical, surprised man. "I have been sent as an emissary to the Grasslands by Head Councilor Adeline."

The man blinked, eyes going to her sword, and then to her countenance. "Uh, welcome, milady. I didn't realize there'd be an emissary… I hadn't heard—"

"Good," Chris said. "It is as it should be. Lieutenant, it is imperative that you and your men do not speak of my presence to anyone but your direct superiors. Is that understood?"

The lieutenant seemed shocked to silence for several seconds. Then he started, and said, "Yes. Yes, milady!" He saluted rigidly, prompting his fellow soldiers to repeat the gesture.

"I need your help, lieutenant. You must get this caravan through the gate as soon as possible. I will travel alongside them through the Grasslands." That will be our chance to reach Chisha undetected.

"I see… Yes, of course, milady!" The man seemed eager now, excited at the prospect of being of help to a knight, no doubt.

Chris nodded. "See to it!" she said, saluting briskly. As she turned, she found Hugo watching her with an unreadable look on his face. She started back towards the wagon.

"Helen, huh?" Hugo said in a low voice as she passed him.

"I like that name," Chris said with a shrug, heat blooming on her cheeks. A great deal of activity was set in motion now, as the soldiers redoubled their efforts to get the caravan through the gates, and the Wind Seekers ran about making preparations to oblige as quickly as possible. The air filled with shouts and the sound of running boots and horses and wagon wheels creaking as they rolled across the dirty courtyard towards the gates. Glancing back towards the front of the column, she saw the caravan's leader, directing her people with gestures and shouts, eyes constantly going to Chris. Goddess, I hope I did not make a terrible mistake.

-Sarah-

Bishop Sasarai stood flanked by his adjutant, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at some unseen feature of the interior walls of the canvas tent. "What is your assessment, Master Albert?" he asked, glancing at the people gathered near the middle of the tent.

Albert stood leaning against the table's surface, studying the detailed map the bishop had been supplied with by his scouts.

"Exalted One, it all depends on whether or not the Pagans have a tactician among them. To my knowledge, the people of the Grasslands have traditionally been uneducated in the ways of war. We may well face a horde of savages who feel honor bound to meet us head-on in the open fields. However, I have planned for the worst case scenario…" He gestured at the map.

Bishop Sasarai nodded. "Go on."

Albert bowed his head. "Yes, Exalted One. If the Pagans have access to a tactician, he will undoubtedly advocate a strike against our supply lines. Hence, my suggestion that we make for this ford," he pointed at the map, "So as to rouse the Pagans into attacking us there. Once in position, we will prepare a counterattack, and catch the Pagans in a trap."

"I see," Bishop Sasarai said.

"Once the trap springs, our Rune Bearers will crush them."

Sarah fidgeted where she stood on the opposite end of the table. Being in the presence of the bishop made her nervous—that hauntingly familiar face, yet his eyes seemed so distant. She kept imagining those eyes would see right through her, to their deception. She did not relish the feeling.

"Miss Sarah?"

"Yes?" she said, startled by the bishop's voice. His eyes turned to her, and she suppressed a shiver.

"How many illusory soldiers can you muster at once?"

"Exalted One, it depends on the circumstances. In the heat of battle, when perceptions are low, and the illusions are intermingled among the soldiers of flesh and blood… Perhaps two thousand."

"The Pagans have a Rune Bearer among them with a higher order rune. I will face her myself," the bishop said.

"Begging your pardon, Bishop Sasarai," a voice came from tent's entrance, as a man ducked beneath the flaps to step inside. "Your power should be held back for now. Let me handle the Pagan Rune Bearer." Even behind his iron mask, Sarah's heart leaped in her chest at the sight of him.

"Masked Bishop," Sasarai said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "By all means, make your case."

Luc walked up to the table, one leather-gloved hand resting on his waist. He held the other aloft. "My Cyclone Rune will be more than a match for any Rune Bearer the Pagans could muster. Your True Earth Rune should be reserved as a surprise for our enemy."

"Hmm. What is your assessment, Master Albert?"

Albert glanced at Luc before straightening and facing Bishop Sasarai. "Exalted One, the Masked Bishop's advice is sound. This will be our first engagement. It would be wise not to reveal the full extent of our power. If we give the enemy a reason to doubt our prowess—some hope that they might be able to defeat us—then we open up for a complete rout in a second engagement. They will grow to underestimate us, and apply all of their strength to destroy us. At that point, using the True Earth Rune will break them."

Bishop Sasarai stared at Luc's eyes behind his mask even as Albert spoke. Watching the two bishops matching wills, Sarah's heart pounded. She shifted her grip of her staff, wiping the sweat from her palm.

"It will be so," Bishop Sasarai said. "Make the preparations."

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. The first step of their plan was complete. She looked at Luc. Behind his mask, she could imagine that he was smiling.

-Hugo-

As soon as the caravan was out of sight of Brass Castle, an entirely different mood came over the Wind Seekers. Voices were raised in song as the strumming of lutes sounded from several wagons, and the people of the caravan moved freely among each other, like some large family sharing in the rigors of a long journey. At the head of the largest wagon sat the old woman, overseeing her people as they rode with the noonday sun.

They had scarcely traveled a league from the keep through a sparsely forested landscape of rolling hills when they began to hear the sound of marching soldiers. An anxious mood gripped the Wind Seekers, and Chris watched them form up their wagons in a modest defensive ring as the ranks of a Harmonian platoon came marching down the bend in the road. Hugo glanced at Chris, and saw that she looked tense.

A horseman came thundering down the road, weaving between columns of infantry with a group of cavalrymen at his flanks. The riders fanned out across the road to envelop the caravan as it came to a halt, and the main horseman reined his horse in by the leader's wagon.

"I am Captain Huarn of the Holy Harmonian Army," he said in a loud voice that carried throughout the caravan. He waited for the words to sink in before continuing. "No one will be harmed as long as you cooperate. I'm looking for a woman from Zexen—the Captain of the Knights; the so-called Silver Maiden."

Hugo saw a flash of anger on Chris' face, and her jaw clenched.

"I am Bylsma," the old woman said, "Matron of this caravan. The person you seek is not among us."

Surprised, Hugo looked at the woman. A pleasant smile planted on her face, she sat casually in her seat, regarding the Harmonian captain warmly, as if he were nothing more than a friendly wanderer sharing their road.

"Are you so sure, old woman?" Huarn asked.

"I know each and every person in this caravan, Captain," Bylsma replied with an easy smile, gesturing towards the wagons behind her. "You will find no Captain of the Knights here."

A grim smile spread on Huarn's face. Eyes locked on Bylsma, he nudged his horse forward, trotting over past her wagon and straight towards where Chris sat.

"I'm not so sure. I think I might. Isn't that right, Silver Maiden?" he asked, looking directly at Chris.

She made to speak, but Hugo interrupted. Feeling strangely bold, he reached out to clasp Chris' hand in his. She looked startled, but did not resist. "I'm sorry, Captain, but you've mistaken my wife for someone else," he said with a smile. His heart pounded as he felt the heat from Chris' hand in his. "She is no maiden girl."

Huarn's brows rose, but his smile remained. After a moment, he shook his head. "You have disguised yourself well, Captain, but the hunt ends here. Your little display at the gate didn't go unnoticed."

Suddenly, Bylsma was beside them, gesturing for Nash to help her up onto the wagon. As he hoisted her up beside them, she spoke, "Captain, you misunderstand." She moved over to ruffle Hugo's hair as she passed. "My son and his wife certainly proved themselves useful at Brass Castle, but my daughter-in-law is no knight." She placed her hands on Chris' shoulders, smiling down at her. "She's just a very good actor."

The smile drained from Huarn's face. As he watched them, it seemed to Hugo that the world had stopped. Soldiers and Wind Seekers alike were silent, awaiting the Captain's verdict, and the only sound was the furious beating of his own heart. Clutching Chris' hand, he felt her racing pulse, and their hands were clammy with sweat.

"I see," Huarn said slowly. He looked up at Bylsma. "Of course, you wouldn't mind that we escorted you on your journey, then." It did not seem a question.

"Not at all," Bylsma replied pleasantly.

Not at all, Hugo thought bitterly. He glanced at Chris, and forced a smile.

-Borus-

As the sun began to set over the harbor, Borus sat astride his horse just outside the gates of Vinay. He kept repeating the Captain's orders in his mind, but he knew in his heart what had to be done. Sparing the city one last look, he turned and stirred his mount into a gallop, leaving the walls behind him. He had made all the necessary preparations.

She needs my help, he thought to himself. Alron can explain it all. He can help me free her. Goddess, I swear I will free her from whatever evil influence is guiding her actions!

Author's Notes:

Here begins a new story arc. I'm trying to tell several plot threads at once (the battle between the Grasslanders and Harmonia, for instance) and I hope it doesn't get too intrusive. I try to keep anything not related to Chris & Hugo as short as possible, to keep the pace up. Let me know if it's working or not!

By the way, I'm using the name "Gani-Bara" to refer to the Duck Clan people. (The word looks the same in singular as well as plural.)

Comments on what was good and what was bad are always welcome. I also like to hear what you're looking forward to and what your favorite parts were, so if you feel like it, drop me a line! I love talking about writing.

Next Chapter:

Chris and Hugo find themselves in a situation quite a bit more complex than they bargained for. What seemed like a blessing quickly becomes a curse, as they're forced to play their assumed roles to a hilt in a bizarre recreation of Wind Seeker marriage traditions! With friends and enemies both new and old showing up, things get increasingly complicated… Even worse, an unexpected betrayal puts things to a head! Will our heroes escape the watchful eyes of Captain Huarn and his allies? Next time, in Blazing Waves, Burning Rain!