In a surprising turn of events, Roger finds his mission complete. The princess Noura is put in his custody and he has a way out of the city of Al-Madin. Unfortunately for him, fate will give him anything but a clean escape. Even then, he will have to face another one on one duel to finally get away...

Roger awoke to the sound of pounding fists on his door. At first, still groggy from sleep, he was wondering where he was, and what the bastard making that awful racket wanted.

"What?"

"Brother Rajeed, you are needed by the emir, now."

Scrambling out of bed, he nearly tripped over the plain shoes he wore as part of his disguise. He looked around the room, quickly pulling over his hood and securing it so no part of his face could be seen. He noticed that Anya, his faithful friend… well, stalker, but no one was keeping track at the moment, was gone. He remembered before falling asleep giving a ridiculous plan to Anxo, the former actor turned warrior at Anya's suggestion. After getting a confirmation that he would try it, Roger had cut himself off comms and made small talk with the Ranger before falling asleep. He went to the cell door and opened it, being hit with the musty reek of the qasr dungeon.

"What is wrong, my friend?"

It was a guard in decorative armor, with a firm, but obviously frightened face.

"Something has happened. The emir was very specific in getting you."

"Odd. Maybe he needs to soothe his soul over something and it can't wait for morning. What time is it anyway?"

"Quarter to six, brother. Follow me."

Heading up the marble staircases, Roger and the guard passed many pieces of art, more than a few were portraits of the emir himself, Sal-Hadin. He looked to be a model of a ruler, firm gaze, solid body, and a sense of purpose you could tell even from the painted replica. As the rooms became more and more gaudy and decorated, it was obvious that the personal chambers were near. More and more guards in increasingly ridiculous armor and outfits appeared in corners and hallways, all of them on high alert. Roger instantly thought he had been made and was preparing to fight or make a run for it. He whispered into the comm link that connected him to his ten Eldar strike group.

"What is going on?"

Daidre quickly answered.

"We're not sure serjeant. Everything seemed fine until about ten minutes ago. Then the entire qasr went on alert at the emirs order. We haven't been able to re-establish contact with Anxo either. He's gone dark."

"Dammit. Are you following me?"

"Since you left the dungeon. It's becoming increasingly difficult to stay close with the amount of guards posted in this part of the qasr."

"I have a bad feeling I'm headed into a trap, get ready for a fight."

"The Striking Scorpions eagerly await it, serjeant," Cael said with undisguised satisfaction.

"What's the situation in the city, Shae?"

"Al-Madin is preparing to wake. More movement, but nothing alarming. None of the guards panicking, the gates are preparing to be opened, all seems normal. By the way, Kallen and the reserve force took care of that one guard. He also… "Wished you luck", I think is the way he put it."

"Good news all around. By the look of it, I'm right at the emirs chambers. Standby. If something happens to me, I'll alert you. Stay hidden and get ready."

The large red jade door facing Roger was covered in golden gilding, showing the heraldry of the Hadin family. The two massive guards were standing ready in silence, their faces hidden behind masks crafted to look like the face of their ruler. Seeing the monk and guard approach, they quickly moved to open their charge. Led into the chambers of emir Sal-Hadin, owner of numerous titles and the city of Al-Madin, Roger didn't know what to expect. He walked into the opulent bedroom, filled with the greatest of finery and comfort. He briefly wondered if Edmunds chambers would be the same. His thoughts were broken, and he nearly jumped, when a voice from a corner rasped at him.

"You are the monk with no face?

Roger filled himself with courage and turned to face what he suspected was the emir.

"Yes, my liege."

Sal-Hadin looked nothing like the paintings of him. Where the images were of pride, courage, and wisdom, the man himself looked a disheveled, frightened, exhausted figure. Slumped in a master carved chair, he hardly exuded confidence.

"I don't have to ask if you have faith or beliefs that you cannot explain, correct, brother?"

"Of course not, noble lord."

"What I am about to say to you will not leave this room. I will kill you if it does. I do not care if you are a man of the cloth."

Roger swallowed nervously under his hood.

"Please, sire, tell me what ails you."

"I…"

The emirs face turned pale, his hands trembling on the armrests.

"I saw a demon this night, brother."

Roger blinked.

"A demon? What did it look like?"

Sal-Hadin reached over to a filled wine glass, shaking as terribly as he had before, nearly toppling and spilling its purple contents on his expensive rug.

"Tall. Lanky. Eyes as red as fire. Voice like an animal. Not a stupid, violent creature. Spoke very well. Hid in the shadows. Wore a cloak."

Roger was thanking the Emperor he wore the hood, because it took all his effort to not laugh. Even with his face hidden, he was fighting to not break into a massive smile. It worked! The stupid plan had worked! Not just worked, it terrified one of the most powerful men on the continent into absolute panic!

"Did he… say anything to you?"

The emir nodded slowly.

"He… it said that my wickedness had caught up with me. The attacks on my neighbors, my taxes crushing the poor, my land undefended by my men. But worst of all, taking the fruit of one of my enemies and holding onto her when I should learn to forgive and be fair."

"Does that mean anything to you, my liege?"

"You know I am holding the Aamira of Yalat, correct?"

"You gotta be kidding me."

"No brother, I am serious."

Roger bit his tongue. He wasn't actually-

"The djinn… said that if I wanted to continue my rule, if I wanted to see my sons take over from me, I had to release her to a holy man and be cleared of all my sins."

Roger laughed, startling the emir.

"You do not believe me brother?" he said with a surprising flash of anger.

"You…do you believe the words of a djinn? I am but a humble monk, but I would hardly listen to a demon among us."

"I do, brother. You came here tonight by chance. Fate had drawn you here the same night I am visited by pure evil. I see the connections. I woke my astrologer to see the patterns in the stars, and they align with you taking the aamira back to her family. I hate them, but I fear for my soul more."

The emir waved a hand at him in a hint of annoyance.

"The aamira will be given to your care. I will provide an escort for you two from the city. I know that your companion is at the Monastery of the Flaming Sword. You will pick him up and ride out of my city. You will be on your own from my gates. I will let her go, but if she returns will be a weight on your soul."

Roger gave a nod and bowed, receiving a flitting hand move as a signal he was dismissed.

"Brother!" the emir called out before Roger left.

"My liege?"

"Never return to my city."

The gilded doors closed behind Roger, and he went to collect a princess.

XXXXXX

The belltower rang seven chimes, and mounted on decent horses, the monk and the princess rode out. Noura was in disguise, a black cloak with an eye-slit covering her body. She wore a pair of sunglasses, given her period of imprisonment in a dark dungeon. It would probably be a few hours or so before her eyes would even get close to regular again. Surrounded by four mounted men at arms and an extra horse for Al-Luz, the group moved at pace to leave Al-Madin quickly. The emir could not afford to lose face giving up a prisoner like he did, so it was in the interest of all parties to get out of town as soon as possible. Finally arriving in front of the monastery, Roger dismounted and knocked on the door. It swung open, revealing a young, scantily clad woman.

"Can I help you?"

"Father Al-Luz?"

"He's here. I've been with him all night."

"Charming. Tell him Brother Rajeed is here and he needs to leave. Now."

"Fair."

The door slammed shut, Roger hearing a commotion of noise behind it. Soon, his robes splattered with drink and looking like a disheveled mess, Al-Luz stumbled out the door.

"What the hell is going on? Who is she?"

"That's Noura."

Al-Luz looked at him in disbelief.

"How-"

"I'll tell you later. We need to leave. Now. The emir is letting us go, but we have to get the hell out of here."

Al-Luz looked back to the monastery.

"That fucker of an abbot took all the pretty ones for himself. I'll be glad to leave."

Remounting and getting Al-Luz on the extra horse, the group continued to the gate. Al-Luz lead over to him as they neared the massive doors.

"Where are your friends?"

"Ordered them to get out and head to the rally point. We're all alone here, but I can't think we'll run into trouble given our new circumstances."

"Edmund and Duck will be very happy with us."

"Hm."

Al-Luz let out a laugh.

"A priest, a monk, and a princess walk out of a city…"

"Not now," Roger hissed.

They could see the gate now, barely half a mile away. Freedom was so close that Roger could taste it. All he had to do was lead his two companions away and he could leave this dump of a city forever.

Then fate fell on him with the force of a warhammer to the chest.

As they neared the gate, the four mounted riders were joined by two spearmen to escort them through the increasingly busy streets. They could see the massive doors clearly when a man stumbled from a side street, blocking the group's path. One of the escorts was about to shout at him when he noticed the guard uniform he was wearing. Then the man looked into Rogers face, and his heart slammed into his feet. Looking into his eyes was the guard he had knocked out the night before.

"That's him! The monk who attacked me out on the wall! Intruder! Arrest him!"

At first, Roger wanted to quickly argue and continue as soon as possible, but one of the spearmen suddenly turned on him, taking the spear and throwing his hood down. The escort saw instead of a scarred, brutalized face a fine, handsome visage. Having been ordered to protect a monk with a ruined face, they realized that their charge was an impostor.

"Halt in the name of the emir!" the spearmen roared as he pointed his weapon at Rogers face.

Roger lifted his hands up and looked to Noura and Al-Luz. Then he winked, grabbing the spear head and pulling it towards him. The unprepared soldier not only lost his spear, but two of his teeth as Rogers boot smashed into his face. Swinging it at the closest mounted man, who nearly fell from the saddle to avoid being sliced, Roger quickly yelled at his two companions.

"Follow me and ride like hell!"

The other guards, still trying to figure out what was going on, watched in confusion as the three rode down a side street before realizing what had happened. Roger watched as Noura and Al-Luz rode in a panic behind him. For a recently imprisoned woman, even a noble, she rode extremely well. Al-Luz on the other hand rode like a child forced to sit on a pony for their birthday.

"Al-Luz, keep up the pace or we might as well just circle around and give ourselves up!"

"Fuck off Angle-man, you try to ride with a hangover!"

"I have, and I can't tell what you're worse at, being a rider or a priest!"

The three tore into a small square, the townspeople watching in awe at the three riders ripping by them. As impressive as Roger looked, he felt absolutely naked. He had left his sword and dagger at the rendezvous point in a nearby forest twenty or so minutes walk from the city gate, and now his Leopards were all away, nowhere near him. He held up his hand to signal a stop and motioned for them to move into an alleyway, which they thankfully obeyed. Roger turned to the two, panting from the spearman-ship and the hard riding.

"Right, we need to get out of here. There's three other gates from what I remember from the picts and street maps. I'm going to guess the main gate is going to be locked down now. We might have a chance with another exit, word can't have spread that quickly."

Al-Luz nodded.

"The west gate is our best choice. It's closest to the rally point."

Noura nodded despite not knowing what they were talking about, removing the sunglasses and blinking the sweat from her eyes.

"I don't care how we leave, I want to never see Al-Madin again."

Roger chuckled in agreement, looking to Al-Luz.

"Right. We'll head for the west gate, and get the hell out of here. Noura, I need you to follow every order Al-Luz and I give. I want you to-"

He paused, something wet flicking onto his face. He blinked in confusion, touching the wet spot with his hands, seeing it was red. He looked back at Al-Luz, who, to his horror, had an arrow sticking out from his throat, another one piercing his skull a heartbeat later. He turned to Noura, watching as two arrows hit her horse and toppled over. Another arrow flitted past him, barely missing his nose. Toppling out of the saddle, the princess struggled to get her footing, rushing as more arrows flew around her.

"Grab on!" Roger screamed as he turned his horse and slid the spear between the animal's haunch and a strap of his saddle. It wasn't perfect, but having a weapon, even one not in easy reach, was better than no weapon at all.

Noura grabbed his outstretched arm and swung over the saddle, in shock from the fall and the sudden death of Al-Luz. Another arrow soared past, and the two quickly rode off to the western gate. Being followed by their former escort and a few archers, they were in a very uncomfortable position. Somewhat lost, down a man, and being pursued definitely threw their chances from certain escape to barely surviving, being captured, or worse. Fate had definitely been in Rogers favor the day before, and now he was getting his come-uppance.

"You alright back there?"

"They're still following us!" Noura cried as another arrow barely missed them.

They burst out of another side street, Roger looking for another alleyway or street to rush down. Then Noura tapped, or more accurately, punched his shoulder.

"What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Look!" she said as she pointed to none other than the western gate.

Maybe fate was still on their side after all. Roger yanked the reins and charged straight for the open doors. Passing astonished citizens and still groggy city watchmen, the pair were closing in now, near enough that even if they tried to slam the doors shut, they would get through. But then, five or so spear armed guards rushed into the breach, preparing the worst fear of a cavalryman: charging into a spear wall. Roger cursed, trying to desperately pull his own spear, unable to reach it in time. There was not turning back now, and at this speed, they would slam into the spears and probably be cut down on their backs. Rogers' muscles tightened as he braced for the collision and their certain doom.

Then one of the guards' heads exploded. Then another. Suddenly the spear wall broke away as the rest realized they were being shot at and rushed to cover. With a laugh, Roger and Noura streaked out of Al-Madin, arrows nearly missing them, mounted soldiers in hot pursuit. But now they were free of the city, and as they pulled further away from the gate, some of their pursuers gave up and turned away. Noura let out a whoop of joy, no longer being chased, and after a year of imprisonment, finally free.

XXXXXX

An hour later, the two were walking beside their poor mount, exhausted and in pain from being in a full gallop with two riders for as long as he was. Being patted on the neck and being walked seemed to raise the poor beast's morale. Pulling a water skin from a saddle bag, Roger took a swig, offering it to Noura, who gladly accepted.

"So what now Roger?" she asked.

"We meet up with my troops and head back to Edmunds headquarters."

"I thought you said we were near your rallying point?"

"It's in the forest, but I wanted to circle around in case we've been followed. I don't want anyone to find out about my troops."

"Are your troops also from your homeworld?"

Roger scratched his chin, trying to think of the best way to answer.

"No. It's a bit… complicated. You wouldn't believe it until you saw it, that's all I can say."

"I look forward to meeting my rescuers. If they're anything like you, they must be the best humanity has to offer."

Roger coughed and tried to dodge the question.

"How're your eyes?"

"Fine, it still burns a bit, but I lost the sunglasses when Al-Luz was…"

He could hear her voice freeze in her throat at the memory. Roger was wondering how D'Uxford would take the death of his agent. Hopefully not too bad, or just accept it as a sacrifice for a successful mission. Then, feeling that they were not being followed, the pair and the horse moved into the forest. Ten or so minutes later, they found a small formation of rocks, with a rucksack leaned on a nearby rock.

"That's it. The rally point."

"Where are your men?" Noura asked.

Roger moved to the rucksack and started to grab his equipment, more importantly, his sword. Realizing what she asked, he laid the weapons down and sat on the rock, taking off the monk robes and throwing an undershirt on before looking at her.

"I have a confession to make. My troops are very… unconventional. I think you should prepare yourself."

He whistled and thirty Eldar emerged from the trees, moving with no noise. The Striking Scorpions had their blades in their scabbards, the Dire Avengers with their slung shuriken launchers, and the Rangers almost dangling their long rifles from their shoulders. They all had removed their masks, some speaking to each other in their ancient tongue. Roger brightened at one face in particular.

"Anxo! You survived!"

The former actor smiled and nodded.

"You did excellent bloody work. Scared the piss out of the emir so bad he actually let Noura go, as you can see. What'd you say to him?"

"I merely said some nonsense about destiny, fate, that and such. Shortly before I was called to the path of the Scorpion, I had played Aroan in Glyewyns masterpiece "The Wind of Kallera."

"He was masterful serjeant," a Dire Avenger cut in, her voice full of admiration. "He could've been the next Hywill Cuned if the path hadn't taken him."

Anxo blushed at this compliment and continued, looking at Rogers' confusion.

"Apologies, serjeant. It's a very famous play in our culture, and I played the villain. I simply retooled my experience from that role and put it into practice."

"Well Anxo, I must say given the results, I don't know why you left acting."

Roger turned to Noura.

"I told you they were unconventional eh?"

Her face was pale, and she tried to say something, before fainting and hitting the ground with a faint thud. The Leopards, finally united again, stared at her. Kallen turned to Roger.

"Transporting her will be a little easier now."

XXXXXX

Originally, the Leopards had moved all on foot, but Roger could tell that his and Al-Luz's pace were painfully slow for them. None of them asked what had happened to his former companion, and frankly given his behavior on the trip to Al-Madin, it wasn't hard to figure out why. Taking his newly acquired horse and mounting up, with the still unconscious Noura behind him, he ordered the Leopards to begin the three day long trip back to the nearest Imperial forces and eventually return to Edmunds headquarters.

"Once you ordered us away, we had no idea what was going on. I think that was far too risky."

"I disagree, Kallen. Given the way things turned out, none of the strike group would have escaped with a city-wide lockdown in effect."

"The strike group moved without issue before."

"The guards were sloppy amateurs. When they are thrown into high alert and notice everything, or turn paranoid as they often do, it would have put them in danger."

"Still, you nearly got killed or caught there."

"Risks and rewards. Risked it all and won. Take the victory and enjoy it Kallen."

The Eldar shrugged and accepted his commander's assessment.

The Leopards were nearly out of the forest when their Rangers ordered a halt. Roger moved to Cruniach and motioned his head towards the open field in front of the trees.

"Two men, both wearing the heraldry of Sal-Hadin. One seems to be in full armor, the other carrying weapons but no armor."

"Dammit. That's a knight and squire if I ever heard it."

Gwyndair, at Kallens side as always, looked at Roger quizzically.

"Why are they here?"

"Must have followed us here and waited. You all stay here. I don't want you getting involved in this. My fight."

The Eldar obeyed and stood fast except for the two next to Roger, who pulled Noura gently from the saddle, which woke her up, and after looking up to two Xeno faces, promptly fainted again.

"Alright, it's not funny anymore," Gwyndair grumbled.

"Best of luck Roger," Kallen grunted as he laid Noura on the ground, using a mossy rock as a pillow for her.

"Cheers."

XXXXXX

Wearing his standard Guard flak jacket and surcoat, Roger rode out to face the challenger. He pulled within a spears length of the ornately armored man, who pulled his face mask off.

"You are the man who stole Aamira Noura?"

"Your emir stole her first. I'm merely returning her."

"You have embarrassed my liege deeply."

"He did that to himself. Who are you?"

"My apologies. I am Sipahi Ulgan, loyal guard to the noble Emir Sal-Hadin."

Akur stuck his hand out in respect, a surprising gesture, but not one the serjeant could refuse. He rode closer and grasped the hand, firmly shaking it.

"You find me at a disadvantage, sipahi. I am a simple serjeant of the Imperial Guard. Roger Wessyng."

Ulgan looked surprised and nodded.

"Your actions are worthy of a knight, Roger. Very brave, very risky, and very successful. But I can not stand by and let my lord, my city and my people not have some restitution or even better, recover their honor."

"How did you find us?"

"We followed you. The rest of my comrades gave up as soon as the gates were out of sight. I did notice you looking for pursuers. I hunt a bit, so I know how to follow prey and keep out of sight. Where is the aamira?"

Roger motioned to the forest.

"She's resting in there. You'll have to get through me first if you want her though."

Ulgan smiled.

"I was expecting nothing less. My servant has a shield for you and lances for us both. Do you accept my challenge?"

Roger nodded and returned the smile.

"I appreciate you bringing some arms, all I have is my sword."

"This should be fair. I'll let you arm yourself and prepare. When you are ready, get into position and lower your lance. When I return the motion, my squire will raise a red flag. He'll lower it. We charge then. Fate decides the rest. Are these terms fair?"

"Fair to me."

"Die well."

"Same to you, sipahi."

Strapping his shield to his arm and pulling the lance, he nodded at the servant, wearing ornate robes, a scar across his throat. Probably had his vocal cords removed, Roger thought, a vile and distressingly common practice on Mekkar. He pulled away and moved to a respectable distance parallel to Ulgan. Roger suddenly realized how out of his league he was. His opponent was wearing plate and chainmail armor, while he was wearing simple flak armor. Even his helmet paled in comparison. A simple kettle helmet versus the ornate cone and face mask of the sipahi. But now, with his shield and lance, he couldn't back down. He turned his head, cracking his neck, and took a deep breath before lowering the lance. He saw Ulgan mirror the motion, and the servant raised his flag.

Watching nervously, Roger saw it drop, and he kicked his spurs in. Riding straight towards his opponent, he couched his lance and aimed at the shield. Seconds later, he felt an almost inhuman force slam into his own shield, feeling the lance snap in half from the impact. He nearly was thrown from the saddle, scrambling to throw his back forward and keep on the saddle. Finally finding success, he turned his horse to get another lance, which the sipahi did as well. Nodding at each other as they grabbed lances, Roger moved to where Ulgan started, Ulgan moving where Roger started. Lowering the lances, the two prepared to charge again.

The flag raised, lowered, and the sound of hoofbeats echoed off the trees in the forest.

Roger tried to aim a bit lower on the shield, but felt his arm nearly fracture from the hit Ulgan prepared for him. Roger let out a cry of pain, a searing heat of muscles put to their limit reverberating in his shield arm. He saw a movement in the forest, and quickly waved them off while the servant and Ulgan were busy preparing for another round. He didn't need the Leopards to kill this man, bastard he was, over a bad spate of luck. Taking another lance, he took deep breaths as he returned to his starting position, his mind racing to remember the times Esteven de Balois and the Moressley brood practiced this very style of tourney fighting. He could remember laughing at Ethan as he landed flat on his ass in front of Isabella and Maud after pummeling him with a good hit. He remembered Roland de Moressley crushing into Clarence de Alvar at that great tourney held near Lundon, King Edward the Tall and his heir at the time, Jean, seemingly bored by the spectacle.

As he readied himself and lowered the lance for the third time, it hit him, like a thunderbolt from a blue sky. It was the voice of Esteven, his Gasc accent lilting in his mind.

"Move at the last moment. Take the chance and hit the bastard. Or kill his horse. There's honor, and then there is survival. Let me teach you. Tips from an old master."

He watched the flag lower, and he rode forward. Breathing hard, feeling his horse panting under him, he couched the lance again, and aimed at the shield. Then, when almost in impact range, he quickly darted his lance to Ulgans chest. Being experienced in this sort of fight, the sipahi realized at the last moment what would happen, and quickly moved his shield into a position to keep himself safe, turning his lance away. An amateur mistake, but he had been hoping to use the same tactic and now had to quickly respond. The shield took the lance impact, but in his rush to keep himself safe, Ulgan had been a bit unbalanced. With a high speed lance hitting him, he had no chance of staying on his horse. He flew off his saddle, falling backwards and hitting the ground hard.

Rogers' lance had shattered from the impact, and he quickly threw the splintered remains away. Ulgans servant stared open-mouthed at his master's defeat. The serjeant had a feeling that the sipahis rank and position had less to do with his skill and more to his family or bloodline. Aiming for a shield twice and changing tactics on his third try was hardly a sign of expertise, Roger very aware of the fact he had been lucky and was no better, but even with his years of training from Esteven, he was more skilled with the blade than the lance and tourneys. Still, he had won the duel and now rode over to his fallen enemy. Trying to raise himself up but weighed down by his heavy armor, he was like one of those tortoises that Roger would find on the beaches of Susich, protected and nigh invulnerable, but once on their back, totally defenseless.

"Good effort, sipahi."

"I have never lost a joust! Damn it!"

"You were sloppy. Trying to tire me out and then go for the blow. Only problem was I figured out what to do before you could."

Finally getting on his feet, the unarmed and thoroughly humiliated Ulgan stood and looked up at the still mounted serjeant.

"My… life is in your hands. Given the circumstances, I would prefer death over dishonor."

Looking down at the noble, Roger shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"Does your emir know you're here?"

"I… wanted the glory of retaking Noura for myself. I went out and followed you on my own."

"That was a good bit of skill in tracking us. The emir would be a lesser man without a skilled warrior at his side, and given that he will be looking for demons in every dark corner, I think he would hardly look down on someone who tried to restore his peoples honor."

Ulgan looked at him in confusion, eliciting an irritated groan from Roger.

"Bloody hell man, i'm sparing your life and letting you go back!"

"I am free?"

"Yes! Piss off already! Emperor above, I try to be kind for once and you're acting like I have no sympathy."

Ulgan nodded and called his beautiful horse over. Pulling himself back onto his saddle, he looked at Roger and smiled.

"I was prepared to kill you, Angle-man. I would not have given you the same kindness if we were in opposite fortunes."

"Then I proved to be not just a better fighter, but better man than you."

Ulgan frowned at this and slowly nodded.

"Farewell Roger Wessyng. May we meet again. Preferably in battle."

"I look forward to it, Sipahi Ulgan," Roger said as he extended his hand, which was grasped and firmly shook.

Ulgan began riding off back to Al-Madin, followed by his servant.

"Wait!" Roger yelled.

The two turned back to him.

"Two things. First off, I want you to give a message to the emir."

"Speak."

"As bad as the djinn that visited him was, Edmund is much, much worse. He will bring hellfire to his lands, he will make his allies starve, and his children's children will tell stories of Red Ned. He should prepare himself for the worst."

"Very well. And your second request?"

"To the victor the spoils. More precisely, I have a princess that needs a horse…"

XXXXXX

As the suns set on the long day of traveling, Noura had recovered from the shock of her new protectors, who she was certainly not happy about, but not as unhappy as she was about her mount.

"You had one of the finest men of Sal-Hadin at your mercy, and you take his servant's horse? And you give it to me?"

"Ulgan had been embarrassed enough today. The literal least I could do is keep his mount."

"You'll regret not taking more from him when you could."

Kallen, keeping up the pace next to Roger and his mount while the Scorpions and Avengers moved in a circle around them while the Rangers scouted ahead, grunted and leaned closer to Roger.

"She whines anymore, I'll regret saving her."

Roger tsk-tsked him and smiled.

"Worry not my lady, we are only a few days away from Edmund and you'll be back in Yalat in no time."

"Hopefully."

Roger turned back and opened his mouth to say something, but he thought better of it and watched the dual suns climb over the horizon. An hour after that, he ordered camp to be made, and the Leopards set up watches, rested, or ate rations. Noura was given Al-Luzs now ownerless sleeping bag, accepted with all the grace of being handed a dead animal, which the bag smelled like in all fairness, but it was better than sleeping under the stars. She finally went to sleep, exhausted from the excitement of the day and having the first night out of a cell in over a year. Finding his charge was safe and not going to bother his troops, Roger moved around the camp, inspecting the defenses and patrols. Satisfied, he moved a bit further out and went deep in thought.

He was thinking of Davie and his former squad. What happened to them? It had only been a few weeks-or was it a month? Time seemed to lose its meaning with every passing day. He thought of the days events, the escape, the duel, and the long road back to safety. They were still behind enemy lines, and it would still be a few more nervous moons before he could relax.

Then one memory came back, one he had tried to forget about. It was back on Anglerre, when he was only 14. He had followed his father, enforcing a warrant to reclaim a small farm that had been taken by the scum of society, vagrants, the lost. Lord Moressley had wanted it taken back and gifted to a retainer. Some drunk or addict, only a few years older than Roger, had been the only one to show a bit of fight. While his father and men had been moving the rest out of the farmhouse, he had foolishly went into the barn and inspected it on his own. The man had tried to lunge at him with an old butcher knife, thinking he had the element of surprise to win an easy victory. Having already spent two years under the tutelage of Esteven, he had quickly dodged, drew his sword and slammed his blade into the attackers gut. The biggest mistake of that day was looking into his eyes. Frozen in pain, terror, and agony. The eyes of sudden death.

Something touched his shoulder, and he nearly flew out of his boots, stumbling as he turned around and grasping for his sword. He turned to see a redhead in Ranger armor, her face not its usual blank, showing concern.

"Apologies Roger. Were you in the middle of something?"

"Just bad memories. You have to stop sneaking up on me."

"I was waiting for you to be alone. There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

Roger looked at Anya with a bit of suspicion.

"Oh really?"

She nodded and her face went blank again.

"Stick out your hand."

Roger did so with more than a bit of hesitation, and felt something metallic and heavy drop into his hand. It was a horseshoe.

"You left at the wall."

Roger looked at it in disbelief before bursting into laughter.

"Don't tell any of the Leopards where you got that. Actually, I'll do you one better, you take it."

"But it's yours."

"Well there's a reason I want you to have it. I'll explain."

He lifted the horseshoe up in the moonlight and twisted it around.

"I used this to knock that bastard on the wall out, but horseshoes have more uses. Horses, obviously, but there is an old legend that carrying one around is a tool for good luck. I want you to have it, because you seem to be-"

He held it out to Anya.

"A good luck charm to me on your own."

She slowly nodded and took the shoe.

"Thank you Roger. I… appreciate that."

"By the way, I know you stayed behind and took those guards out at the gate. None of the Rangers knew what I was talking about, and who is the only one with that kind of weapon always near me? With and without my consent. Which i'll ignore for tonight, given you saved me."

He looked to the horizon, trying to think what to say next, but his smile vanished as he saw glowing lights in the distance. Anya noticed them too, and thanked Isha silently as Roger couldn't see her reddening face.

"Are those campfires?"

"No," Roger said gravely.

"Then what are they?"

"It's farms and villages being burnt. I didn't think they'd actually do it. They're actually-"

"The Chevauchee," Anya finished for him. Roger had told the Leopards about the Princes plan before their mission to Al-Madin began.

The two watched the fires in the distance get brighter, presumably as warehouses or barns full of wheat lit up. Roger had listened to Edmunds plan, but thought it was a bit ridiculous, and would absolutely bring the displeasure of the General-Militant. So to see them go through with it was almost unbelievable.

"Your forces are nearby. It will make the journey to Edmund less difficult."

Roger nodded, but continued to look at the flickering lights in the distance. He finally thought of something smart to say.

"There's a part of the Lectitio that I thought of whenever I marched with the Guard."

"What is it?

Roger continued to look at the fires, his face turned grave and dour.

"And I looked, and saw a pale horse, his rider named Death, and hell followed with him."

And the Leopards may not have seen a rider on a pale horse, but hell had surely followed them.