Part 42

Greza told him everything about the Empire as she remembered it.  Her account of the man that attacked them at the border had him scratching the stubble on his chin.  She left out what he had said though.  It wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.

“Someone that can take you down?  He couldn’t have gone unnoticed.  Someone knows who he is.”

“He’s dangerous, he’s smart and he’s evil.”

“Evil?

“He…”

“What did he do?”

“He said he was going to violate me, though not in that exact turn of phrase.”

He nodded. 

Then the door opened and Alethia came in.  Her black cloak’s hood was up and she caste a quick glance at Greza before facing Verin. 

“We sent out messengers to the Krolak,” Alethia said. 

“Excellent.”

“Still talking to the rookie?”

“Indeed and something interesting has come up.”

Alethia rolled her eyes. 

“What?”  She asked.

“Greza here seems to think I’m the Lost Victor.”

Alethia let out a burst of laughter before covering her mouth and regaining control. 

“Oh, does she?  Why does she think that?”

“Several reasons, but it doesn’t matter because I have all my fingers.”

“Wait,” Greza said.  “Alethia healed me, correct?  What if they used magic to heal your hand?  That way no one would know.”

“Then there’s no way to know.  Too bad,” Verin said. 

“This is idiotic.  She’s a rookie and a zealot,” Alethia said as she turned to go.  But then she stopped and turned around.  “Well, if someone’s been healed or altered, there is a way to tell,” Alethia said.

“How?”  Greza asked.

“The magic twists and warps the fabric of reality.  Where it’s been changed there’ll be permanent scars.  If your hand has been healed, I’ll know if I search for it.”

“Excellent.  Examine my hand and tell Greza once and for all that I’m not the Lost Victor.”

Alethia shook her head.

“This is asinine,” Alethia said, but took Verin’s hand anyway. 

She held it closer to her face and her eyes focused like she was reading a book.  As the seconds ticked buy Alethia’s face grew more contorted with concentration. 

“Alethia?”  Verin asked.

Alethia suddenly dropped his hand and stepped back. 

“Have you ever injured your hand?”  Alethia asked.  She was breathing hard and had her eyes locked on Verin. 

“You know I haven’t.” 

“Verin, your pinky and ring finger have been restored by magic at some point.”

“You’re jesting with me now,” Verin said, waiving Alethia off. 

Alethia ran over to him and took his hand in both of hers.

“This is no joke, Ver, your hand has been healed.  Your two smallest fingers were replaced a long time ago.”

The smile faded from Verin’s hand and he snatched it back to get a closer look himself. 

Greza remained silent.  They were working it out on their own and didn’t need help from her.  Alethia would probably consider it interference. 

But finally she had the proof she needed.  He fit the prophecy’s description exactly.  Duke Verin was the Chosen Victor.  She knew it as much as she knew anything.  She tried ton contain her smile but felt it slipping. 

“I never knew,” Verin said. 

“The Ork girl was right,” Alethia said. 

“You are the Chosen Victor,” Greza said.

“If I find out that this is some joke, Alethia…”

“This is no joke,” Alethia snapped.  “You know I don’t joke about my magic.”

“Alethia, has anyone ever said you remind them of a raven?”  Greza asked.

“No, but ‘Alethia’ means raven in the ancient tongue.”

“And Bull and a raven shall accompany him on each side,” Greza said, quoting the scripture. 

“This is ridiculous,” Verin said. 

He stood up and stormed out of the room before her or Alethia could stop him.  They both stood there, silent in thought. 

Finally Alethia turned to face her. 

“You were right,” Alethia said.  Her voice was hushed almost to a whisper. 

“He’s the Promised Victor, kidnapped as an infant.”

Alethia looked down to the ground as the thought. 

Greza waited for her to think things through. 

“I’ve always known there was something different about him,” Alethia said after a long time of silence.  “He was always the smartest person in any gathering and he…”

“He, what?”

“He glowed.”

“Glowed.”

“Not literally, but I could feel it.  Sometimes I thought I could see it.”

“You’re the Raven of the prophecy.”

“What does it say about the Raven?”

“That’s she’ll support and advise the Victor in the terrible war that is to come.”

“Tell me about this war.”

Alethia sat down and the two of them talked for the next several hours. Greza told her everything she knew about the prophecy and Alethia asked questions. 

“So, what’s your role in the prophecy?”  Alethia asked.

“I don’t have one.”

“But you were chosen to find the Victor.  There has to be something mentioned about you.  What about this witness?”

“The Witness will proclaim the Victor to the world and write down his story for future generations.”

“That could be you.”

“All I was commanded to do was find him.  I’m no scholar or public speaker.  I couldn’t write a book about him.  I’ve never written a letter before.”

“I still say you’re probably the Witness.” 

It made sense, but Greza didn’t believe it.  She didn’t feel like the Witness.  She had no burning desire to write Verin’s story down. She had had very little practice writing because it was too dangerous if anyone saw it.  She was a great reader but her writing was too horrible to write a book.  But still, with practice she could do it.

“How are you going to tell Tempest?”  Greza asked.

“Me?  You tell him.”

“You’re his friend.  He might actually believe you.”

“He thinks I’m a dreamer.  He never takes anything I say seriously.” 

“But he doesn’t know me.  I’m just a rookie scout.”

“No, everyone says you’re one of the best scouts they’ve ever seen.  They all respect you.”

“And you?”

“Everyone liked you so I took the opposite view.  Nothing personal.”

“Oh.”

Alethia then stood up and took Greza to Tempest’s door. 

“You’re coming in as well, correct?”  Greza asked.

“Right behind you.”    

She tried to relax and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

Part 41

Greza looked into the eyes of the man that had her by the throat.  He had said that he’d do horrible things to her.  She would rather die than let this man touch her. 

She tried to break free but every time she moved he would squeeze hard enough to make stars appear in her vision.  He’d strangle her before she could do anything to hurt her.  Never had she felt so weak and powerless. 

Suddenly the man screamed out in pain and his grip loosened.  She immediately knocked his hands off and kicked away from him. 

Greza hit the ground and rolled to a crouching position.  Then she saw what had saved her.  A crossbow bolt was sticking into the ground from where it had passed through the giant’s leg.  A bloody hole marked its passage. 

On the other side of the border station was Onata with her crossbow. 

He gritted his teeth against the pain and fell to his knee. 

Greza didn’t wait one more second and ran to her horse.  She jumped up and spurred the horse into a gallop.  She sped past the guards and met up with Onata.  They didn’t wait around and galloped as far from the Imperial border as they could before their horses needed rest. 

When they finally slowed down Onata turned to her.

“Who was that man?”  She asked.

“Don’t know, but I can’t take him,” Greza said.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Greza looked down to her hands and saw that they were still shaking. 

“You alright?”  Onata asked.

Greza shook her head. 

Onata hadn’t heard what he wanted to do to her and despite living under the threat of rape all her life, she had never come face to face with it.  The reality was far worse than her imaginative fears.

Onata rested a hand on her shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” Onata said. 

Greza tried to manage a smile, but failed. 

They rode hard the rest of the trip back to Ekonia. 

The sight of the monolithic fortress looming over the cold moor made her happier than she had been in days.  She was finally home. 

They were shown up to the Duke’s office immediately.  Upon entering the room she saw her Duke with all captains and advisors standing around a table.  They were gesturing wildly and talking so loud that she had heard them from down the hall.

Apparently things weren’t going well. 

Tempest saw them first and nudged Verin.  The Duke looked up and for a second she saw what looked like a smile on his face.   

“What news do you bring?”  Duke Verin asked. 

Onata hurried over and handed him the message.  The room fell silent as he laid the message on the table and they all gathered around. 

After reading it one of the captains, a clean shaven man in full armor began to pace around the room. 

“Even with us, the Red Dragons and the Varandi, we still won’t be enough,” the captain said.

“Our troops are better.  We have veterans.  When was the last time the Imperial legions actually fought?”  Verin asked. 

“This is still suicide,” the captain said. 

“That’s why we’re taking our payment and using it to hire more mercenaries,” Verin said.

“Mercenaries hiring mercenaries?  We’re going to lose money on this.  Why sell our sword arms if we don’t earn a profit?”

“Because I’m not in this for the money.  All of you and the soldiers will be paid like always.  This is something different,” Verin said. 

“Yes, your dream of vengeance,” the captain said.

“I’d watch your tone,” Tempest said. 

The captain didn’t look at Tempest and only continued his pacing.

“If you think this war is suicide, then you’re free to leave.  I’ll write letters of recommendation and there’ll be no ill feelings,” Verin said.

No one spoke up for a while.  Eventually the captain spoke.

“Hell, Verin.  You know this is suicide.  I know its suicide, but I’m still with you.”

“Gentlemen and ladies, this is the time.  This is what I’ve been waiting for all my life.”

Everyone nodded in understanding except for her.  She had no idea why they were doing this.

“You two,” the Duke said, pointing to her and Onata.  “I’ll send for you later.  I’ll want your full report.”

“Of course, my Duke,” Greza said. 

They saluted and took their leave. 

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Onata sighed and leaned against the wall. 

“Now we have two days off.  I’m going to go take a hot bath,” Onata said.

That did sound nice, but what Greza really wanted was her own bed.  She waved goodbye to Onata and walked down to her room.  Once inside she stripped down and tossed all her gear at the foot of her bed and promptly fell asleep. 

She woke up a few times but didn’t mind because it reminded her how good the bed felt. 

After a few hours of sleeping, she wasn’t sure how long but the sun was down, she went to the bath room and took a hot bath.  She felt like a real person again and not some savage animal.    

Just as she was getting comfortable on her bed with a book she heard a knock at the door.  It was a guard telling her that the Duke would like to see her now. 

“Should I go find Onata?”  Greza asked.

“He just told me to find you.”

She thanked him and closed the door.  She threw on her boots and black uniform jacket and hurried up the stairs to the Duke’s office.  The guard opened the door for her without a word. 

Greza had expected to see a room full of officers.  Instead, the only person she saw was the Duke.  He was sitting at the table with a glass of wine. 

“Greza, come in,” he said without looking up. 

She walked in and the door closed behind her, almost startling her. 

“Please, sit,” he said, pointing to a chair next to him.

Was she in trouble?  She looked around but didn’t see any guards. 

She hadn’t been alone with the Duke since that time in the library. 

Greza walked over to the chair beside him and sat down, hands folded in her lap.  She kept her back rigid and at attention. 

“Greza, it’s obvious that you’re well educated.  You’re sharp, intelligent, clever and something everyone says about you; you’re honorable.  Those are all traits I’ll need soon.”  Then he looked up from the maps and looked right at her.  It was all she could do to not look away.  “Greza, what did you see in the Empire.  Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No, my Duke.” I don’t believe you’d go to war if you didn’t think you could win.”

“And what if I told you that the chances of victory were slim at best?”

“Then I’d say that you’re following the path you were meant for.”

“Of course, the Path of Light.”

“You are the Victor.”

“For the last time, I am not.  The Victor was killed.  I am still alive.”

“And who were your parents?”

“Don’t know.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Don’t know.  But I do know that I have all my fingers.”

“I can’t explain that yet.”

He laughed again. 

“I didn’t ask you here to discuss your delusions.  In spite of your misguided belief in me, you’re one of the smartest people in the Company.”

“That can’t be true.”

“You believe I’m some lost prophesized hero, but you can’t believe you’re one of the smartest people I know?  Please, tell me what you saw in the Empire.  Tell me about the security and this Governor.”

She recounted every detail she could remember and he listened.  Occasionally he’d stop to ask a question or two, but mostly he let her do the talking. 

As she talked she knew that she had to say something.  He hadn’t believed her last time she told him about being the Lost Victor, but she had to keep trying. 

Part 40

Greza looked over to Onata to see if she had heard what she had.  Start a war?  What was this governor talking about. 

“Explain,” Greza said.

The Governor smirked. 

“This war’s been brewing for a long while.  My province and a few others are about to rebel.  We’re about to find ourselves in compost heap of problems.  Three provinces are about to rebel against the Empire.”

Rebel against the Empire?  That’s insane.  No fighting force in the world could stand against the Imperial Legions. 

Three out of ten provinces.  That wasn’t good odds. 

“You don’t seem very enthusiastic about the idea,” the Governor said.  He laughed and extended his hand.  “Let me see the message.”

Onata handed the leather case over to the Governor.  He took it, opened it and began reading.  Greza watched his face for signs of his reaction.  The man was unreadable.  He then handed the message over to one of his men. 

“I see.  This message wasn’t what I expected. Your Duke is surprising.”

The Governor then took a pen and paper and began writing. 

Onata was shifting her weight and looking around with wide eyes. 

After the Governor finished his message he rolled it up and put it in the case. 

“Ladies, this message must reach your duke.  I accept his proposal and conditions.  He brings his army here in the spring and he will receive full payment then and there.”

“Our Duke will get the message,” Greza said.

“Be careful on the road.  The Empire has many agents out there.”

“He’ll get it,” Onata said. 

They left the castle and remained silent as they mounted their horses and made their way through the streets.  She kept looking to Onata and wondered if she thought the same thing she did.  This was bigger than anything they had heard of.  A civil war within the Empire?  There hadn’t been a rebellion in the Empire for over six hundred years. 

And that rebellion didn’t end well for the rebels. 

Neither of them said anything until they were well out of the city. 

“What is the Duke thinking?”  Onata asked.

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“Does he?  Maybe this Governor is offering a fortune?”

“I don’t think he’d risk his army for money.”

“You have too much faith.”

“You don’t have enough.”

Onata threw her hands up in the air. 

“Greza, why do you think the Duke is perfect?”

“I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.”

“The Empire has fought a real war in generations.  It’s not hopeless.” 

“It’s crazy.”

They rode on heading back toward the border. 

At night they stopped to make camp.  It was Onata’s turn to cook and Greza set up the tent. 

“Are we allowed to read the message?”  Greza asked as she took the saddles of their horses. 

“Unless we’re ordered not to.”

Greza took the canister and removed the scroll.  She unrolled it and began reading.  Most of it was written in vague, symbolic terms and she only understood a little of it because she knew the basic idea behind it.

What she read told her that this was something that had been planning for a long time.  Then she saw something unusual. 

“Onata, look at this.  This message says that the Duke refused the Governor’s first offer because it was too much.”

“Too much?  Now I know he’s insane.”

“There has to be more to this.  I don’t think they’d risk rebellion if they didn’t believe they were prepared.”

“Many armies that thought they were prepared met with destruction.”

The next day they continued on at a pace that was quick but wouldn’t ware out their horses. 

Eventually they arrived at the border station.  But something was different.  The guards were standing at their post looking alert and ready. 

“Eyes open,” Onata whispered.

They approached the station and one of the armored guards stepped up and raised his hand. 

“Halt and dismount,” the guard said.

They did as instructed and the guards came up and began searching   

“What’s this?”  The guard asked, pointing his sword at the message scroll. 

“An official message from an Imperial official,” Onata said.

By law, they weren’t allowed to touch it.

“Open it up,” the guard said. 

“You know we’re not allowed to let anyone see it,” Onata said. 

“Open it.”

Greza stepped up in front of Onata and looked the guard up and down.  She knew she could take all these men.  She looked in the man’s eyes and she knew that he could see it too.  He stepped away. 

Then a man emerged from the guard shack.  He was large, a good head and shoulders taller than Greza.  He was also massive.  Between his muscles and heavy armor he was almost as large as Tempest. 

He didn’t wear a helmet and had the shorn head of a soldier with scars running up and down one side of his head.  He smiled and walked up to them. 

“Guard, no need.  I’m sure these messengers must be on their way.”

“Of course, sir.” 

The guard saluted and hurried off to do anything else.

The giant man folded his arms and looked down on them. 

“I’m sure you two aren’t carrying anything of interest to the Empire.”

“Not interesting enough for you, I assume,” Onata said.

“But, there is a problem,” the giant said.  “We have word some Imperial officials are planning on doing some very stupid things.  Of course you two wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Of course not,” Greza said.

“Mind if I take a look at the message?”

“Yes,” Onata said.

“Now, do you actually think you’re going to stop me?”  The giant asked.

“Yes,” Greza said. 

The stepped up in front of him and looked him up and down.  Strangely, he didn’t carry a sword, only a knife. 

This man would be difficult. His size and strength would make him dangerous but size and muscles didn’t make a knee joint any tougher.  A well placed blow to the right place will drop him as fast as it would drop anyone else. 

“Onata, mount up.  I’ll take care of this man,” Greza said.

Onata readily agreed and mounted her horse with the message. 

“Just give me the message and you can continue on with your life.”

“No.”

He unfolded his arms.  By the way he moved and positioned himself she could tell that this man knew how to fight.  Simple tricks and distractions wouldn’t work on him.  If he got his hands on her his strength would be problematic. 

Then the man got into a stance she recognized.  It was her own style.  This man knew how to fight like her. 

He fought like her but was bigger and stronger. 

If she fought this man, she would lose.

“See something?”  He asked.

“Where did you learn to fight?”

“The Old Imperial style of Tarashreg.  You know it.”

She took up her defensive stance and he nodded in recognition.  She looked over to make sure Onata was ready to leave.

“Onata, go now.”

The man laughed a low laugh.

“You know you can’t beat me.”

She couldn’t.  If the man had an bit of skill his size and strength would tear her apart.  She wouldn’t have time to get on her horse without him reaching her first.  If she was to get out of this alive, then she had to escape. 

Suddenly the man moved forward.  He shot towards her and reached to grab her.  She twisted to the side to get her arm out of reach while simultaneously moving backwards toward her horse. 

Onata hadn’t had left yet. 

“Go!” Greza shouted. 

Onata spurred her horse forward and took off at a gallop. 

“Only me and you,” he said.  “Tell me where you learned Tarashreg.”

“Why?”

“Only descendents of the Imperial Taranalla family know this style.”

“I was a slave.  I learned what they taught me.”

“And who taught you?”

She swept her arm near his face to distract him but he reacted by kicking out and striking her leg.  She managed to move in time to avoid having her knee crushed and continued backing up.  But he continued following. 

His footwork was perfect, never losing balance and always ready to strike.  He left no openings. 

She had to try though.  She threw a quick punch to test him and he knocked it out of the way like she was an amateur. 

Suddenly she found his hand around her neck, squeezing the life out of her.  He was too quick.  Grabbing her breastplate on the bottom with his free hand, he lifted her up. 

“Give me the message.”

He let go enough to allow her to breathe.

“Or you’ll kill me?”

“No, I’ll rape you.”

Everything froze around her.  She knew she could die but she never feared it.  But now she was facing with something worse than death.  All her life she had feared this and now it was brute strength and not authority that would force her. 

She had to remain pure.  The Divine Lights demanded it.  It wasn’t just the simple rules of chastity, it was something else.  She didn’t know, but she felt it as strong as she felt anything. 

This man was going to ruin her in ways her mind pitilessly imagined over and over again in the fraction of a moment.  And there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Part 39

Greza saw the border station up ahead.  There was a gate and a small outpost for the guards.  The Imperial flag flew from the roof.  There was no line and no one to distract the guards.  She would have to face their scrutiny and hope they didn’t recognize an escaped slave.

She put on her helmet and checked all her gear.

“You’re nervous,” Onata said.

“Imperial border guards can be cruel.”

“They won’t recognize you.”

“We have to hurry through.  Our mission can’t wait.”

“Relax.  If you look nervous they’ll suspect something.  Look like you belong and they’ll pay less attention.”

She didn’t feel like she belonged at all.  She felt like she was riding towards her own execution.

“We have all the proper papers and aren’t carrying anything illegal.  There’s no reason to stop us.  Everything will be alright.”

Greza swallowed and tried to control her breathing.

“I don’t see why you’re scared.  You can take four guards with one arm.”

She knew she could, but that didn’t ease her fear.  All her life she had grown up fearing Imperial guards.  Her master’s house was surrounded by them.  She’d seen what they’d do with slaves.  They had a habit of accusing a pretty slave for theft and swore they wouldn’t tell if the slave did ‘favors’ for them.  The word of a guard would unquestionably be taken over a slave.

“You don’t fear them?”  Greza asked.

“Because I was a slave?  No.  I’ve met too many guards since then to fear them.  If anything, they’ll be intimidated by us.” 

“How?”

“We’re professional killers.  They search carts.  They know the difference.”

She tried to imagine the guards of her childhood being afraid of her.  The scenarios that appeared in her head all seemed ludicrous.

But she could kill all of them.  Easily.  She could tear them apart without trying. 

As they approached the gate, two of the guards stood up and readied themselves in the most slovenly, bored way they could manage.  They had been playing a game of dice and apparently didn’t want to be bothered. 

They stopped and Onata raised her passport. 

“We’re messengers from the Duke of Ekonia on official business,” Onata said.

“Destination?” One of the guards asked.

“Fairfield in Spetium.”

“Right.  Dismount and come forward.”

They dismounted and walked to the guards.  The guards gave them a half-stepped look over and waved them through.  They looked through their bags too fast to have actually seen anything and then stamped their passports. 

They went back to their game of dice without saying anything else. 

Greza couldn’t believe it had been that easy. 

“Is it like that everywhere?”  She asked once they had ridden a good distance away.

“Along the borders, most of the time unless there are special circumstances.”

“Such as?”

“Word of smugglers, caravans full of undesirable people.  Ork traders.”

Greza looked back at the shrinking guard post and wondered why they even bothered to post guards in the first place.  Seemed a waste of time and resources to her. 

She was back in Imperial territory.  It had been a year since she escaped Roristan Manor. 

A lot had happened in that year.  She was a new individual; someone respected and feared.  She was a person now, not a thing. 

This was not coming home.  This was returning to a prison; a place of abuse and degradation.  She had not missed it and felt no loyalty to it.        

“Have you ever fought the Empire?”  Greza asked.

“No one’s been insane enough to start a war with the Empire.  We’ve worked for the Empire before, when they didn’t want to bother sending their own men to punish some small kingdom.”

“How could you work for a nation that enslaves thousands of people?”

“I don’t.  I work for Duke Verin.”

How could he?  He had been a slave.  Didn’t he feel that humiliation and need for vengeance?

When they came to the first town she realized that she was disgusted with it before they had even talked to the first person. 

“You feel like this is returning home?”  Greza asked.

“Hardly.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t like the food, I guess.  You?”

“Definitely not.”

“You didn’t like the food either.”

“No.”

She looked over and saw that Onata wasn’t just giving her usual frown.  She was glaring at the village as it passed by. 

Neither of them talked much about their days in slavery.  It was one of those rare instances where knowledge wouldn’t help.  Sometimes people needed their privacy.    

It was another three days before they arrived at Fairfield.  It was a walled city with architecture different than the usual Imperial that she was used to.  The place seemed far older and the stone in the walls was pitted from countless ages. 

The trees were taller and thicker than anywhere else she had seen and the air was far warmer.  Birds she had never seen flew above the trees.  The mosquitoes she recognized though.  Even in early winter this place had flying pests. 

Greza didn’t know the history of this place but she was determined to find out.  She hated not knowing. 

Statues of gryphons and long extinct dragons of enormous scale decorated the city’s walls.  The guards at the gate wore white robes over their clean armor and their arquebuses were simple with elegant touches of gold.    

The guards looked more like priests than soldiers. 

“Been here before?”  Greza asked.

“Once. Briefly.  They’ve always been…very faithful people.”

“What religion?”

“Don’t remember what it’s called.  Have a bunch of gods, animal sacrifices on full moons. Loud music.  Not looking to join up are you?”

“I’ll stay with my own.” 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a religion where you’re not the only believer?”

“I’m not.”

Onata snickered and shook her head. 

They showed their passport and writ of passage to the guards and were waved in.  Inside the gates the city was filled with people who were all dressed in either gray or white.  Only a handful of outsiders wore colors. 

“A cheerful place,” Onata said. 

The city also didn’t look as if it were doing well.  There were too many beggars and many of the people that weren’t begging looked to be only one step away.  Half naked children ran through the streets with sticks for toys. 

This wasn’t how the Empire was supposed to be.  Everywhere else she had seen was full of wealth. This place was worse off than some of the small towns she had seen back east.

“Sad pig farm of a city,” Onata said.

They made their way through the quiet streets to the castle that was tall, simple and intimidating.  The same ancient statues that decorated the city wall decorated the castle.  She didn’t recognize the artistic style at all. 

“Stop staring at the statues.”

“I’m not.”

The guards at the castle stopped them and after an hour of waiting they were ushered into the main audience hall.  The long, old style hall with the pillars running down each side with faded tapestries hanging between them. 

The Governor sat on his throne surrounded by robbed men.  The hall was full of a rabble of people all talking and shouting at once.  Their escort had to shove people aside to bring them up to the governor. 

“Emissaries from the Chimera Company of Ekonia,” the escort announced. 

“Hurry up and bring them here,” the old, thin man on the throne said. 

As they came closer she saw that he wasn’t old, but he was worn down and his long beard had grown prematurely white.  His eyes however were as strong and full of energy as anyone she had seen.  The brows were heavy and creased in a permanent scowl.

“You have a message for me?”  The Governor asked.

“We, do,” Onata said.

“Very well.  I suppose this is business to be done in private.  Follow me.”

The Governor stood up and they followed him and his entourage into a side room with a long wooden table.  The Governor nor his men took seats. 

“Well, emissaries, I don’t know how much your duke had told you, but we’re about to start a war.”

Part 38

Greza looked into the room she’d share with Onata.  Instead of barracks scouts lived in two-man rooms.  There was a window overlooking the moor that had a wooden shutter and clear, clean glass.

Two beds, one desk, two trunks and a rack for their armor and weapons. A simple room but a comfortable room; far more than what she was accustomed to.

“Like it?” Onata asked.

“It’ll be peaceful.”

“Much easier to sleep when you don’t have ten men playing cards all night.”

“Which bed is mine?”

Onata nodded her horned head to the left.  Greza walked over and sat down on her new bed.  Comfortable.  Onata sat on her bed across from her. 

“Did you see me when they brought me in?” Greza asked.

Onata nodded.

“You looked awful.”

“Did I have a wound in my arm?”

“Lots of blood.”

“I thought I was going mad.  When I woke up, I couldn’t find it.”

“Duke Verin had Alethia heal you. First time I saw that happen.”

She hadn’t deserved the honor of being healed by magic.  Every spell cost the sorcerer a memory.  The more powerful the magic, the more important the memory it cost.  Magic was rare because the few people born with the ability chose not to sacrifice their own memories for power. 

Some did it gladly however. 

She wondered which type this Alethia was.  She was the Raven from the prophecy but that didn’t mean she was a good person.  Throughout history the Divine Lights had used wicked people to further their cause.  But would the Promised Victor have such a power hungry woman as a close friend?  She didn’t want to believe it but the man hadn’t had the wholesome, informative upbringing he was supposed to have had. 

The Church of the Divine Path had planned to prepare him from a child to meet the expectations the world had for him.  Now, even if he did come to accept his calling, he might not be prepared for it. 

After breakfast she rejoined the scouts in a small meeting hall just off the courtyard.  When she walked in everyone stood and clapped. 

Greza stopped and looked around.  Was this a joke?

“What’s this about?” Greza asked.

“Don't be modest,” Onata whispered.

She was about to protest but Richkurk walked up and held out his hand.

“I knew you had something in you,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t like modesty,” he said with a smile.

“Told you," Onata whispered and then turned to Richkurk. "She’s not being modest.  She believes it.”

“That’s even worse.”

He led her to the front of the room and Greza wanted to shrink and disappear.  As a slave, attention was never a good thing.  She spent a great deal of effort to remain as invisible as she could.  Now here she was, in front of everyone, being praised for something that was skewed into something it wasn’t. 

“Like it or not, you’re famous now,” Richkurk whispered to her.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You risked your life to let others escape during the battle, then you broke the other prisoners out and marched all the way back here alone. I’d say that was impressive by anyone’s standards.”

A medal was pinned on her black uniform and then she was allowed to take her seat after many more hard pats on the back. 

The rest of the day was a class on how to survive in the wilderness, something she could have used earlier.  She paid attention and made sure to ask questions so she’d remember what was being taught.

Much of the class was taught by the other soldiers.  It seemed that rank didn’t matter too much in the scouts. 

The rest of the week went on with classes, weapon drills and a few courses out on the moor about concealment.

Greza loved it.  She was learning to be stronger and more in charge of her own destiny.  She was growing and she felt freer and happier than she had ever felt in her life. 

On the first day of the second week a soldier came into their class and handed Richkurk a note.  Richkurk’s expression was hard to read through his beard.

“Greza, Onata, you’re to report to the Duke immediately.  Seems he has a message that needs delivered.”

“Yes, sir,” Onata said. 

They got up and left the class room.

“What’s this?”  Greza asked.

“The Duke said we’re his new messengers, right?”

“I thought that was more about battlefield messages and such.”

“I’ve had to deliver a message to the Imperial capital before.”

“I wonder where we’re going.”

“Could literally be anywhere.”

“Why’s that?”

“During the winter contracts are made for the next summer campaigning season.  We’ll be running around a great deal this winter.”

They reached the Duke’s office and knocked. 

The door was opened and Tempest stood there, filling the entire doorway.  He looked them over and then moved out of the way.

“The two messengers, Verin,” Tempest said in his bass drum voice.

They walked in and saw Duke Verin sitting behind his desk writing a letter of some kind.  Alethia was sitting off to the side on a couch and eating grapes and reading a book.     

The Duke looked up and waved them in.  Tempest closed the door behind them.

“I have a message I need delivered to the Baron of Fairfield in the southern Imperial province of Spetium.  Deliver the message, wait for his written reply and return here.  Understood?” Duke Verin asked.

“Understood,” they both said in unison.

“Isn’t she a little green?” Alethia asked. “I don’t mean skin color.”

“Onata has delivered messages before,” Verin said. 

“She lucked out once.  I don’t count on rookie’s luck to last long.”

“She can handle it,” Verin said.

Alethia lowered her book and turned her cold, dark eyes toward them. 

“I don’t like you,” Alethia said.

“Alethia,” Verin said.

“I don’t.  I think you’re a rookie that got lucky.  You’re no hero.”

“Agreed,” Greza said.

Alethia smirked and went back to reading her book. 

“She has a very cheerful disposition on some days,” Verin said.

Greza didn’t say anything.  When the masters talked about her, it was always better to stay silent. 

Verin stood up and walked over to them.  He put the scroll in Onata’s hands. 

“This is a very important message.  Secrecy is the highest priority.  If there’s a chance if might fall into anyone’s hands but this Baron of Fairfield, then destroy it.  Do not leave without his reply. Haste is paramount.”

“Yes, Duke,” Onata said. 

“Now go prepare.  Leave as soon as you are able.”

Then Onata turned and walked out of the room. Greza hurried to catch up.  She turned back to get another look at her Duke but the door was closing already. 

The Imperial province of Spetium.

She was returning to Imperial lands.  There she would have no rights.  If they found out she was an escaped slave they would imprison her and then return her to her masters for cruel punishments.  She wasn’t a person there, she’d be a thing. 

This was her chance to show her usefulness to the Duke, but this was also far more dangerous than any battle.  If one person recognized her then her life would be forfeit. 

And there weren’t a lot of half Ork-half Dark Elves running around.  

Part 37

When Greza woke up in the morning she felt the warm sun on her face and she stretched out.  It felt good to be alive.  That wasn’t something she could say very often.  She let out a little moan of pleasure as she finished stretching and opened her eyes. 

Sitting on chair at the foot of her bed was Duke Verin.  He was sitting there as still as a block of stone, reading a book.  He looked up as she sat up, drawing her sheets around her shoulders. 

“My Duke, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“You’re the only one that calls me ‘my duke.’ Why is that?”

“I…well…”

He waved her off with a slight smile. 

“We’ve heard a great deal about you, little reader.” 

“Why did you have me healed?”

“Should we not have?”

“But I’m just one soldier of no consequence.”

He closed his book with his finger to mark the spot and looked at her with those examining eyes of his.  She had to look away to keep the feeling that he could see her soul. 

“Do you think so little of yourself?”  He asked.

“I know what I am, My Duke.”

“And what are?”

“An ugly, escaped slave that’s only good for killing.”

His brows knitted in the middle and he cocked his head. 

“And that is what you see?”  He asked.

“It is what the world tells me.”

He put his book down on her bed and steepled his hands on his chest as he thought. 

Verin was the sort of man that thought about what he said.  He didn’t say vain, mundane things. 

“That wound looked fairly recent.  What happened?”  He asked. 

She thought about how to answer him and decided that the truth was the best.  Perhaps this was the time to tell him. 

“I encountered four men at the second crossroads.  They were worshipers of Nyrulth and they were there waiting for me.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Nyrulth cultists were there waiting for you?”

“Yes, My Duke.  They knew I have something important to do.”

“How so?”

“Do you know about the Lost Victor?”

Her heart was beating faster than during a battle.  Her mouth felt dry.  This was the time.  She was finally fulfilling her duty to the Divine Lights. 

“I do.”

“I’ve been told that the Lost Victor is alive and that I’m here to find him.”

He leaned forward.

“Told by who?”

“The Divine Lights.”

“If it was anyone else, I’d laugh.  But I know you to be a serious minded woman with more intelligence than a palace full of nobles.”

“You believe me?”

“Not at all.”

Everything froze around her.  He didn’t believe?

“But I know who it is,” she said. 

“Who?”

She looked at him directly in the eyes.  He looked back for a few seconds and then smiled. 

“Greza, I don’t know what to do with you.  I’ve never understood religious types.  You’re one of the smartest people I’ve met and I don’t just mean your education.  You have that fire behind your eyes that tells me that what you see isn’t enough.  You’re always hungering to learn more.  You’re a wolf among the sheep, Greza.  For that, I’ll respect you’re belief but you can’t expect me to believe I’m some misplaced hero.” 

“You have a Bull and a Raven by your side.”

“Is that the total of your evidence?”

“Then men tried to kill me because they thought I was right.” 

He held up his hands. 

“I have all fingers.”

“Yes, I haven’t figured out that one yet.” 

“Tell me when you do.  I’m curious to hear what you have to say.” 

“Thank you for not mocking me, My Duke.”

“I would never mock you.”

“Thank you all the same.”

He stood up and walked to a window. 

“Do you know how my company started?”  He asked.

“I don’t.”

“A slave rebellion.  Me, Tempest and Alethia were slaves at a manor.”

“I hate them.”

“Masters,” he said.  It wasn’t a question.  He knew what she meant because he had been through it all as well. 

“Yes.”

Then he suddenly turned towards her. 

“Greza, I’m assigning you and Onata as my personal messengers.”

“My Duke?”

“I’ve seen how you act under pressure and you’re one of the best,” he said in a formal tone.  “I know you’re intelligent and educated enough to parley with nobles and generals.  I’ll send Richkurk the order immediately, though I think he may be surprised by it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you doubt my judgment or your ability?”

“My ability.”

He gave a brief smile.

“Hurry and regain your strength.”

He nodded and left her room, leaving his book on her bed. 

She picked it up and looked at it.  It was a history of a slave rebellion in the Empire.  It was one she hadn’t heard of so she opened it and began reading.  She read it the rest of the day until Onata came in with dinner.  She continued with her story of how they won the campaign. 

Destroying the siege engines had slowed them down enough for new allies to be made. The battle that had seen Greza captured was a widely celebrated victory that boosted Duke Verin’s reputation among the kingdoms. 

After Onata left for the night she remained awake to think.  She had almost too much to think about. 

Verin hadn’t believed her.  She hadn’t known what to expect, but she hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly rejected.   He had to be made to see.  If the Lost Victor couldn’t be made to see then no one else could be expected to see either.