Roger faces interrogation by the Holy Inquisition, unsure of what will be asked, and more importantly, how he will be made to answer. No sooner does his interrogation end that he is faced with another, possibly even more dangerous than the Inquisition could ever hope to achieve. But neither goes exactly how Roger fears, one of them vastly, unbelievably so. All the while, the forces of Sal-Hadin prepare to make their long awaited attack...

The room was empty except for a table, a lone, dim light above. It was damp, cold, and even though the door was no different from any in the lower levels of the Cathedral, Roger felt imprisoned, even worse than the cell he was given before Commissar Lucan attempted to execute him. The thought of that wretch made the already nervous and unstable Roger start shivering, or was it the cold? He wasn't sure which was which, but neither answer gave much comfort. He was quickly sent to this miserable room after his meeting with the Inquisitor. Although he was told he was not a prisoner, the fact that the location was as miserable and claustrophobic as it was, and the guards standing on either side of the door didn't help ease his mind. The only good thing about where he was seemed to be the small window, blocked by steel bars of course, looking out into the morning over Haikk Four. He wanted to cry out for help, but doubted it would do much good.

"Even your ears aren't that good," Roger said helplessly.

If the Leopards or Anya knew how deep he was in-

The door knocked, his heart nearly slamming into his throat.

"Roger? It's Theodor. May I come in?"

"Of-of course, Inquisitor."

Roger, and every citizen of the Imperium, even from the most feral and basic of worlds, knew to fear the Inquisition. One word, one report, would be enough to damn millions, for they had damned trillions before. But this was not what he expected. Instead of a grim, fire and brimstone man, Theodor was unobtrusive, polite, actually. What was his game? The man himself stepped in, wearing a more official uniform, wearing a Rosette in the shape of an I, three prongs sticking out of the middle on both sides. He was holding some parchment as a Servo-skull hovered next to him. The Anglois' skin began to crawl, finding such things revolting. His home planet had long been engrained with a culture of distrust and slight fear over Mechanicus forged things like it, and frankly, their entire institution as well. Theodor looked up at Roger and smiled.

"Please, take a seat."

He motioned to the chair across from him, and sat down as Roger did the same.

"Right. So this is how it works. I ask a set of questions, the Servo-skull," he said as he patted the floating device on the head like a dog. "Records them, I get the information I want, you get to walk away as long as you are honest. Any questions? Concerns?"

Roger thought for a brief moment before deciding that it was best to speak as little as possible.

"No, Inquisitor."

"Please call me Theodor. Right, let's get this over with."

The Servo-Skulls eye augment flickered as the Inquisitor cleared his throat.

"Test, one two, one two."

The light flickered off and echoed his words exactly.

"Ah, good. As smart in death as you were in life, eh Joao?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, my apologies, Roger. This skull used to belong to Joao Branco, man I picked up on Sao Baya, many years ago. Sadly fell when we engaged with a group of Dark Eldar a decade back. I chose him to serve me as such after he was mortally wounded. Doesn't talk back to me as much, so it might have been a change for the better."

The Servo-skull whined suddenly, earning a reproving glare from the Inquisitor.

"It was a joke Joao. Anyway, he's ready, I am, are you?"

Roger nodded.

"Excellent."

The skull's light flickered again as Theodor looked at a piece of parchment.

"Date is… uncertain. I'll add that in when this interview is finished. Warp travel messes with the chronometers. Subject is Roger Wessyng, serjeant in the Fourth Anglerre Regiment of the Imperial Guard. Purpose of the interview is to collect information on Eldar operating in the Haikk system. Initial questions will be about the subject."

Theodor nodded towards Roger.

"Age?"

"Twenty-six. I think."

"Why did you join the Guard?"

"Conscripted."

"I see. Yeoman family, father was a… bailiff. You have any interest in that line of work?"

Roger thought for a moment.

"My brothers would probably get the job before me."

"How many siblings?"

"Two brothers, one sister."

"All from the same mother?"

"Step-siblings. My mother never married my father."

"Ah, a bastard. Given your ability to survive the many things thrown your way, it doesn't surprise me."

"Inquisitor?"

Theodor smiled again.

"Please, Theodor. Bastard children are always the ones who strike out in unexpected ways. This isn't a criticism of the circumstances of your birth, merely an observation of a century or two of experience."

"You've been alive that long?"

"In standard Terran years, I am about two hundred and forty… three."

"You look excellent for your age."

"Ha! Juvenat treatments and biomancers are quite something. Now, you were going to be executed, according to my files. What's the story on that?"

Roger sighed and rubbed his face.

"Well, it started on a march a few months ago…"

XXXXXX

"...we just got back from a raid last night. Did some damage, but to no effect."

Theodor was writing furiously, his mind seemingly racing.

"You attended a Farseers council?"

"Yes, on the Craftworld. The elites of Ducaish wanted to hear my side of the story of what happened to the Exarch and-"

The pen Theodor was holding fell out of his hand as he gasped.

"You were on a Craftworld?"

"Yes, I had to go there to be given permission to-"

"What was it like?" he asked, almost giddy at the idea of a human visiting such a place.

Instead of being tortured, Roger was surprised to find himself in a situation where the roles were almost comical. Instead of condemning him for not accepting death or even being near Xenos, Theodor almost seemed envious. Was that the right word?

"The spires are… impossible to describe. It is unlike anything I have ever seen, or probably ever will. It was peaceful too. If you didn't know any better, you would think you were on one of those paradise worlds the posters talk about."

"Anything else?"

"It was clean. I apologize, I was only in a few rooms."

"That's… Emperor above, more than enough. Incredible. Incredible!"

He had gone through pages of parchment, and didn't seem to let up.

"How were you able to convince them to let you command them?"

"They asked me to."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Theodor looked like a child in a candy store. Instead of sneering in disgust at even thinking of being around a Xenos, the idea of humans and Eldar working together like the Leopards did seemed to excite him.

"What do you command? Types of soldiers and such."

"Well, I command Dire Avengers, Striking Scorpions, and Rangers. The Avengers are-"

"I-I know of them. Having to understand the Eldar and their warriors is something one has to learn early in our careers. And Edmund has given me the after action reports of your missions. Do you think humans would be capable of such?"

"No. One of them is worth ten Guardsmen. And that's well trained ones. Not to denigrate my comrades, but the Eldar can fight harder, take more punishment, and show less fear."

"In my experience, I agree."

Theodor scribbled on parchment some more before Roger finally asked what he wanted to do since this all started.

"Theodor, am I going to be executed?"

The Inquisitor stopped writing and looked at him in baffled confusion.

"What?"

"I have interacted and associated with Xenos. I tolerate them, and I have come to find them quite amiable and worthy of respect. By all accounts, I have no-"

Theodor let out a bark of laughter.

"Roger, do you know how many Inquisitors have Eldar in their retinue? More than a few. Did you think I came here to execute you? I could have done that long ago, before you ever noticed."

He wrote a few things and put the parchment down.

"This concludes interview with Roger Wessyng. No interrogation or capital punishment to be administered."

He tapped the Servo-skull and opened the door, waving it through.

"Go back to my baggage. I'll be there in a little bit."

As he closed the door, he turned to face Roger with a grin.

"You… I don't even know what to say. I was hoping to hear good news, but you've blown my expectations away, Roger."

"So… I'm not in trouble?"

"Hardly! Now, I sent Joao away because I wanted to talk without my superiors hearing it."

He sat down again and leaned forward.

"I am part of a group that believes the most… dogmatic, of my brethren, the kind you probably expected to face, and rightly feared, are foolish. I believe that there are many enemies the Imperium faces. The Orks, the Great Enemy, races that are so far and varied it would boggle your mind. I've been trained to understand it, and it nearly breaks me. But there is-"

He shifted his hands, and Roger noticed he had a ring, made of some sort of carved stone. But in the center was a symbol. One which Roger could read. Thanks to his strangely acquired ability, he understood it as an Eldar rune that translated to many human concepts and words, but the one he could think of was "victory."

"A growing sect that I belong to that believes we have a valuable ally being wasted by our short-sightedness. One that knows our foes better than us. That has aided us before. That despite their personal reservations, is willing to help us. A species of those in tune with forces beyond our comprehension, and that despite all this, is still treated as an enemy by the Imperium."

"The Eldar."

Theodor nodded.

"I have worked with Craftworlds before. Iynanden. Saim-Hain. They have given me information that saved worlds, and I have returned the favor to defend a few of their holdings. But when I heard there was a man who led members of their kind, I had to see it for myself. I would ask you more about your missions, but your reports are… well, I've worked with many regiments, and I must say, you have a knack for being descriptive. And they are secret, we don't want others knowing about our relations. I would love to speak more with you, but I have to depart this world sooner than later."

"Why?"

"My more puritanical comrades are about to bring the hammer down on myself and my friends. We need to be ready for that. But you have provided proof that our two species can work together. For a common goal. What that goal is, I don't know, and neither will you, probably. But I need something to prove the doubtful and strengthen the resolve of the believers like myself. You've done more than I ever thought you could. You have my thanks, Roger."

Roger stared at him, mouth agape.

"I… was sure I was not leaving this room alive, to be honest."

"What, you thought I would torture or kill you? Bah! If I could convince Edmund to let you go, I'd recruit you as an Acolyte! Your brief experience with the Eldar and their warriors is more than nearly the entire Imperium! You don't realize how lucky you are. Maybe a few Inquisitors and Rogue Traders are even close to you."

His smile turned grim.

"Actually, it may be better if you stay here. I don't know how long I have, or if a purge is coming my way."

Silence fell for a few moments before Theodor lit up again.

"I know you and your comrades are facing doom, I understand the feeling, but I would not lose hope. There are rumors that things have changed for the better, but I don't know the details. Point is, if you do survive and things change-"

He handed Roger a small card. He almost laughed at the near parody of it. It was a calling card, of all things an Inquisitor to have.

"And I survive whatever comes next, don't hesitate to contact me. And if you still aren't interested, but need a favor or a reference, or just want to strike the fear of the Emperor into some poor son of a bitch and say you're friends with an Inquisitor, use that. You've earned it with even a quarter of what you've given me."

Roger nodded and swallowed.

"I don't know what to say."

Theodor stood up and grinned.

"You don't need to say anything. You can wish me luck. I will for you."

He stuck his hand out, noticing, but not saying anything, as Roger looked at his ring again.

"Best of luck Inquisitor."

"As to you Roger Wessyng. Now, let's get out of this room. Miserable here, isn't it?"

The two stepped out, nearly running into Edmund and D'Uxford.

"Ah, Theodor. I was just-"

"I understand your concern, Edmund, but he did fine, and gave me what I wanted. The next transport is leaving tonight, so I may have to spend the rest of today as a guest. I have no further use for Roger, and I have to go over my report."

"Of course."

Theodor looked to Roger.

"Best of luck."

The Inquisitor vanished down the halls towards the upper levels, Roger watching as he did so before feeling a thump on the shoulder.

"Bloody hell Roger, I was thinking I'd have to drag your corpse out of there! Good show, good show! What did he want?"

"The-the truth. I guess. Y-your Highness."

"Well that's the office, isn't it? Inquisitors. Mother always hated them, never said that out loud though, and don't repeat it. I get my man back, and I get the best damn news I've heard in weeks all in half an hour! Ha!"

"What news?" Roger asked in confusion.

D'Uxford cleared his throat.

"The last Marauder Vigilant brought back images of dismantled camps and armored vehicle tracks moving east from Al-Madin. Convoys have been sighted along the roads towards Kaol-Daissar."

Roger stared in confusion again, his mind still reeling from the interview. It could have gone worse, but the last two hours had been spent in pure terror.

"Half that bloody army at Al-Madin left! Rebellion on the East Coast! We're facing twenty five thousand enemy troops, but they're on our level, feudal style and local levies! We have a chance Roger!"

"I… guess I brought good luck with me back from our raid."

Edmund nodded and turned serious.

"We'll need a bit more, I'm afraid. Still outnumber us, and have local advantage. Still, it's better than facing tanks."

The Prince turned ebullient again as quickly as he turned dire.

"I'd send you out Roger, but I think you've had enough of a day already," D'Uxford said quietly.

"Thank you, my lord. Your Highness."

The two nodded before Edmund suddenly remembered something.

"Oh! Before I dismiss you, I wanted to let you know that one of your Eldar wanted to speak with you in the glade privately."

"I see."

"The one Ranger. Alwyns daughter. I asked her why, and said something happened a night or two ago that she wanted to speak with you about."

"Ah. Well, I should get to that."

"Please do. Keep up the excellent work serjeant."

"Your Highness. My lord."

Leaving the two, Roger moved up the stairs, trying to wrap his head around all that happened. He was trembling, his jaw twitching from the sheer fright of facing an Inquisitor. His mind was in such a state, that had he realized what Anya meant, he would have never agreed to meet her.

Because it was about Morgyn.

XXXXXX

Anya Syneoch paced around a large stone in the glade for what may have been the thousandth time. She was thinking what to say, what to do, and what she should not for either of those. She believed she was better than this, to not be as possessive and… jealous, the word ran through her mind as she clenched her teeth. But what she and Roger had was something that she had never experienced before, and was still trying to figure out. So when she saw him with that Corsair whore, holding her, speaking to her softly, and to even go so far as to-

She shuddered as the memory came back to her, watching them through her long rifles scope as he reached up to Morgyn and-

"Damn it all!" she cursed in Eldari.

Did he no longer care for her? Was he playing with her? Had Morgyn gone farther than she had? Corsairs were libertine and were known for their scandalous indiscretions. Morgyn returning was bad enough, but that she had already started making a move on him despite her re-introduced war mask was beyond belief. She was about to let her mind race into the unimaginable when the sound of cracking branches and fluttering leaves came from behind. She took a deep breath, quickly looked to find it was Roger, and kept her back towards him.

"Roger."

"A-Anya."

"I would suppose you would be happier to see me if I had silver hair. Or brown skin. No, maybe if I was not some follower of the Outcast path and was a warrior. Oh, maybe a Corsair lineage. Something that would be more interesting than what I am, considering that you would be so kind to that void born harlot!"

Roger was silent, probably from the sheer venom she had unleashed on him.

"Am I just some thing to you? A conquest of the heart that you can run off with? I had suspicions since our time in the desert about that Cadian, Morgyn seems to have fallen for your spell, and I think even Sister Evita has developed something of a taste for you! Do not think I have not noticed, or suspected! My species is adept at seeing through your hearts, and I can figure out that you have something of a reputation! Am I correct?"

He gave no response.

"Well?"

No response came from him. The silent treatment was as outrageous as a pathetic attempt to deny, and she could no longer take it. She whirled around to face him, prepared to look him in the eye and let him have it.

"You-"

She didn't finish the sentence, getting a good look at him. His uniform and armor looked fine, and he stood firm, but his eyes, his face, were completely unlike his normal self. Had she overdone it? She seemed unsure what to say, now slightly embarrassed by the burst of emotions. He walked towards her, slowly, but methodically.

"I did not mean to-"

He embraced her, holding her tighter than he ever had, like if he let go, he would lose everything. A desperate clinging that shocked her.

"I thought I would never see you again," he said, the words halting and stuttered.

"What is wrong?" she said, almost pleadingly.

"You- you know of the Inquisition?"

Her blood turned cold. Even among her people, the excesses and bloody nature of that organization were spoken of in quiet whispers, as if disbelieving in their sheer brutality. Her mother had told her of the tortures they had inflicted on their own kind to gain confessions on-tortures! She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

"Did they hurt you?"

"N-no, but… Throne Anya, I'm fucking terrified!"

"It is alright," she said as she rubbed his back.

"I told him damn near everything! I couldn't think straight!"

"Did you tell him about us-"

"No, thank the Emperor I can hold onto some secrets, but our unit, what Ducaish is like, hell, I even told him a few things about the ruins! Goddamit!"

She gently separated him from her body and looked at him with a grave expression.

"I need to know what you said. I may have to warn mother."

XXXXXX

"...and then he asked me to join him."

Anya was sitting with her legs crossed next to Roger, who had his back on the grass, looking up to the sky. He had calmed himself, but terror now turned to regret. He had told the Inquisitor damn near everything, and had possibly damned himself and his allies.

"Why did you not join him?"

"Pardon?"

"If men like him are as powerful as you say they are, I would find no issue in joining his group."

"First off, from the things I've heard, if I survived more than a year or two in his service, I would be considered blessed by the Emperor himself. Second, he could have been lying, and lastly, Edmund told him I was staying. Which means I have some importance to him, if he's willing to stand up to one of their ilk. That, or I've done him enough favors he thinks he owes me one in return."

The two sat in silence for a few moments before Anya spoke.

"Well, I am glad that you decided to stay."

"Knowing the disaster waiting if I left the lads with you lot without myself at the helm, I think it's in the Leopards best interest I don't leave."

"I would miss you."

He put a hand on her leg and patted it.

"The feelings mutual."

"Enough that I would even overlook your little indiscretion with Morgyn."

His hand retracted and he sat up.

"Bloody hell, that's why you wanted to talk to me, wasn't it!"

"Of course it was. You lead me on and then decide to "make a move," as your kind say, on that silver-haired slut."

"Language, first off. And it's more complicated than that. She's…" he chose his next words with caution, not wanting to give the Corsair-to-be and her brother away. "Returning home soon."

"I was not aware that she was back with the Leopards, let alone returning to Ducaish soon. Still, I was informed her war mask was re-introduced. Some abnormality that required correction."

"As I said, it's complicated. And she said any feeling between either of us is secondary to ours."

Anya looked down at him, her ears twitching slightly, her face turning slightly red.

"Did… did you tell her that, or did she tell you?"

"I did, actually," Roger lied, hoping to be dug out of the hole he had found himself in. "And she acquiesced. She will not be around me much longer, so it was better to end it here."

"I… see."

Her hand reached over to his and took it.

"Well, I am glad that you put her in her place before I had to be involved. That is all I will say."

"I'll ignore that. I won't ignore how you and I talked about watching me when I didn't want you to."

"Old habits die hard, another saying humans enjoy using."

"Yes, well, it's a habit I wish you would stop. It's better than before, but that doesn't mean much. And I know for a fact that you watched me bathe once or twice."

"Nine times, actually."

Roger groaned and slapped his face with his free hand.

"Well, you don't see me trying to catch you stark naked. I have standards. Somehow."

Now Anya didn't respond, her mind seemingly lost in meditation or thought. Roger decided not to break whatever state she was in and looked into the thick woods ahead of him. He was now processing the "good" news that instead of facing fifty thousand men and tanks, Third Corps now only faced twenty five thousand men at their feudal level. What a difference. It was better than the alternative, but hardly something to celebrate. Would Sal-Hadin be stupid enough to not have any artillery or tanks left behind? He wasn't an idiot, but he was not a brilliant leader if the rumors from his brief time in Al-Madin was anything to go by. But what were local troops compared to the Guardsman of Anglerre? Or their knights? And Edmund had led them through worse odds. Maybe it would-

Anya suddenly let out a sigh that grabbed his attention. He looked over to her as she moved her hands on the ponytail that Eldar warriors, no matter their aspect, seemed to prefer. She removed the strap holding her hair, which flowed to her lower back. She ran her hands along it, possibly fixing it, but it seemed alright to Roger. In fact, he had never seen an Eldar with their hair down, other than her mother. He hated to admit it, but she looked quite nice doing so.

"You should let it go more often," he said absent-mindedly.

"My mother does. I am not her, and I can not understand why she does so."

She stood and fiddled with her armor. Roger wondered if something was wrong, but her back was towards him, so it must not have been too serious.

"Roger, I would like to apologize. I am a firm believer in fairness and balance, especially in a relationship as difficult as ours."

"Er-alright. I appreciate you noticing that. I…I guess."

He wondered what she was playing at, more confused than concerned. He looked over to ask what she was getting at before she stood up and moved a few feet ahead of him. She was still not looking at him

"Is there something out in the forest, or are you-"

"I would like you to know the lengths I am willing to go for you. That even most other Eldar would never imagine."

"And by that, you mean… what exactly?"

"This."

Her robes fell as the sound of armor clattering to the ground echoed from the trees, Anya turning to face him. Rogers' mind was stunned as he realized she left nothing to the imagination.

"I must say, having looked through Ducaish's records and my own personal observations of you, that our species' anatomy are quite similar. Would you agree?"

"I-er-uh-w-well-ah…"

He swallowed loudly, his mouth totally dry.

"Wow," he said blankly.

Her skin and body were, for lack of a better word, perfect. Almost porcelain like, were it not for the smattering of freckles on the various parts of her body. No signs of fat or scarring marked her form. Instead of embarrassment, her face showed an expression of either disinterest or slight amusement at his complete shock. He was trying to not look, but failed quite miserably. Perfect. Literally, inhumanly, perfect.

"I-I didn't k-know that your kind had… uh, hair, you know-"

"Common. We do not have any sort of facial hair however. It is another oddity of the human biology that my kind find amusing and bestial. And somewhat unique among the rest of the races in this galaxy."

"S-should I have one to be more exotic? You want me to grow a beard or moust-"

"No," Anya said sharply, less of a response and more of a demand.

"And the freckles?"

"A genetic abnormality inherited from mother. The abnormality is more common on Ducaish than other Craftworlds. It is seen as some as a mutation, but others find it exotic, even pleasant. That you noticed them would make me believe that you are in the latter camp.

"Y-yeah, you, uh, caught me," Roger said in embarrassment. "Could you put your clothes back on please?"

"Do I not entice you?"

"You do, I mean, well, it's just, I've had a long day, and I don't think my mind is in the right place for all of this."

She bowed her head in acceptance and bent over to grab her clothes. Roger looked away, to at least give her some privacy, even if she had completely abandoned any semblance of that.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Don't you wear anything under your armor? Like pants or anything?"

"The bodysuit, of course. But our robes and armor are extremely well fitting compared to human clothing. Some warriors even disregard the bodysuit for personal reasons."

"So I may have been fighting alongside Eldar who are completely naked under their armor this whole time?"

"Some say it is better to fight feeling the wraithbone on your flesh. I do not understand it."

"I bet Kallen does that," Roger joked.

Anya let out a laugh and quickly covered her mouth as Roger turned back to her. She was thankfully clothed, only missing her robes.

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"Kallen Socher is a… unique member of our unit."

"That's one way of putting it. He's remarkably friendly towards humans," he noted, hoping to forget the fact that only a minute or two ago he she was completely naked in front of him.

"I have heard, rumor of course, that he was once a Corsair. Believed to have sailed the void with a crew that included humans."

"Really? I never heard about that. And he never told me either."

"From what little I have heard," she said as she sat back down next to him, "It did not end on the best of terms. He is a Striking Scorpion now, after all."

"True."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Roger tried to say something.

"Good news by the way. The army we're facing just split in half. Rebellion to the east."

"That is very good news. What of the rest of them?"

"Outnumber us, but if we play our cards right, we'll survive it."

Anya's spirits seemed to rise a little bit, but did not say anything to show it.

"How will Edmund and the rest of your leaders respond?"

"Don't know. Knowing the Prince, he'll find a way to go and attack them."

"Even if the odds are against him?"

"Especially if the odds are against him."

"I should not keep you long then," Anya said as she stood up and held out her hand.

"I mean, I could stay longer if you want me to, I don't mind."

She smiled politely as he grabbed her hand and was pulled off his feet.

"I would prefer it, but we have spent enough time together for today. If you have need of me or my kin, inform us."

"Alright."

He was about to leave when he stopped and turned back to her.

"Hey, Anya?"

"Yes?"

He stepped in front of her and stood on the top of his toes before he kissed her.

"Thanks for listening."

Her face turned red as she bowed her head in response. Satisfied, Roger headed back to the Cathedral, but her body would be on his mind for the rest of the day. To his mild frustration, he didn't seem to mind.

XXXXXX

Sayf Ulgan, Sipahi of the noble house of Hadin, rulers of Al-Madin, looked from his Emirs tent and frowned. Where once the finest collection of Haikk Fours Directorate-provided forces camped, there was empty grass. Some of it flattened by the tents now pulled up, the rest by the treads of tanks and other armored vehicles.

"I do not like our odds, noble Emir. Having the army move tomorrow is a bit too hasty. I think-"

"I don't give a damn what you think, Ulgan."

The Sipahi was a member of Emir Sal-Hadins council, though not by choice. Had the Emir's brother Moumet not married Sayfs sister, he would have been another noble warrior amongst the hundreds spread across the camp. But family came first. Even if they hated each other.

"Those tanks were our chance at victory. And without them-"

"Edmund is outnumbered three to one by our forces. We know the land, the people have come to join us and fight their oppressor, and you are wailing like an old woman because we do not have vehicles! The Directorate wasted their time here, and the less I have to listen to those miserable bastard Smits, the better."

Ulgan turned away from the land and faced his regal brother-in-law, trying to contain his anger.

"Have you faced one of those men from Anglerre? I have. He was smaller than me. He wasn't even a noble! And he fought like a lion. We have a few thousand trained soldiers, the rest are peasants you have handed weapons to and prayed to the Emperor would remember what measly training they have! You have no idea-"

The Emir stood and held his hand to silence the Sipahi.

"You were beaten, to the shame of our family! Were you without my protection, you would be the laughing stock of the higher class! Damn you, we no longer have Noura in our dungeon! Those little rebellions stirred up on the coast mean next to nothing now that those traitors to the west support the Tyrants forces! You are only here because my brother married your-"

Ulgan placed a hand on his scimitar, without even a flinch.

"Watch your words, brother."

The Emir calmed himself and sat down again. Despite his power and blood, he was smart enough to realize that Ulgan was a damned fine warrior, and would gut him even if it meant being declared a traitor to be executed.

"You are needed here, in this fight, more than sitting on Al-Madins walls."

"They need all the defense they can get, given the last few months."

This earned a sharp glare from the Emir, but was ignored.

"Still, we at least have the regiment of artillery given to us. We will be able to pound Edmunds army before we charge in and slaughter them."

"I doubt it will be that easy."

"I will destroy Edmund soon. And his djinns. I know he can summon them."

"Not this again-"

"Leave! I will not share my tent any longer with an unbeliever. The Emperor warned us of such evil spirits."

"Very well."

Ulgan bowed and left, thankful it was that easy to get away from the damned fool. He looked to the west, and wondered if the Terran usurpers forces were preparing for war. He had a feeling that in a day or two, the forces of Sal-Hadin would move to crush the interlopers. He then turned to the thousand men left by Smits to assist them. Basilisk and Medusa guns had tarps wrapped around them in the vain hope to avoid sand. They would be essential to the fight ahead. But would Edmund ignore or not notice them? Doubtful. He shook his head as he went back to his tent. On the way, he wondered if Roger Wessyng still lived. He would like to face him again, maybe take him as a prisoner. Even if the Emir ordered no quarter, he would spare the man's life as he did his. He may have been an enemy, but they both had enough honor to save each other.

"You had better still live, Wessyng," his voice flowing on the winds of Mekkar.

For he would soon be in the fight of his life.