Sword Bow and Horse Chapter 4 (Patreon)

This has been edited by Hiryo, and myself, but I don’t doubt that we missed small mistakes. Hopefully no large ones though, and I hope that you all enjoy the chapter, late though it is.  Specifically, there seems to have been some kind of issue where paragraphs occasionally run together.  If you spot any such, tell me please and I will correct them.Beyond that, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 4: Tactics, Politics and Wood Whacking

When Lim and Ranma had left to head to Legnica, Elen had been determined to use the rest of the campaign season as best she could. Tigre too, although reluctant, had been convinced of the need for more warfare against Thenardier as well as Ganelon. He had been convinced that regardless of the fact, Thenardier attacked him first, and he had no territorial ambitions. 

Both lords would see his rising strength, his alliance with Elen, (Elen called it a relationship,) and the number of minor lords and merchants who had flocked to his banner around the Dinant Plains and Alsace, as a threat despite the fact he could raise barely four thousand men all told. In comparison, Thenardier alone could raise forty thousand. Ganelon could field an even larger army, but his army was slower, less well trained and equipped.

But Tigre also knew that any real campaign against either Duke was going to be long and bloody, and they had barely two months more before the rain and mud started to turn to snow and ice. So even though Elen wanted to push for them to take on Ganelon right now across the Resia in the west, Tigre insisted it wasn’t possible, especially with there being no bridge to cross the river in question. No, what Tigre wanted to do was continue his campaign to claim that river as a natural border between his and his allies’ territory and the battles certain to restart between Ganelon and Thenardier soon. 

The Resia was a deep gully for much of its length from the center of Brune up from the south on a slightly western heading straight across that segment of Brune to the ocean.  Barely a few weeks back, Ranma had destroyed the main bridge connecting the two sides of the Resia. Without that bridge, there was no way for any large body, or even a small number of troops, to cross without extreme difficulty to the north and west of the central lowlands of Brune. A thousand scattered peasant archers could secure the river, using it as a natural border for the counts, earls, and margraves who wished to remain neutral in the war between the two Dukes.

Into the center of Brune, however, there was no such geographic defense.  There the Resia broke up into many smaller rivers, many of them wide and deep, but without the vast canyon to make crossing utterly impossible. 

Worse, Thenardier’s base, the city of Nemetacum, was in the distant south of Brune, east of Nice. Thenardier couldn’t move hastily though, since between his forces and Ganelon’s there also wasn’t any natural defense either. And he had to consider the borders of Sachstein, which his territory abutted to the west, and Muozinel to the southeast, although the shared border there was small and through hazardous, extremely rocky, mountainous terrain. Still, there was also the ocean to consider there. But if he did eventually move, Tigre would find himself facing the might of the greatest military force in Brune with little in the way of natural defenses.

But Tigre had been making diplomatic inroads with a few margraves, earls and viscounts east of Alsace, the most important of which was the Viscount of Augre whose family controlled the town of Territoire. That town gave them a great logistical base and could be, as Elen put it, “The lynchpin of our moves into central Brune." And from that family and the maps Ranma had supplied them, Elen and Tigre, had learned they could make use of the river Resia and the smaller streams that merged into it to once more create a defensive position straight west of Territoire towards Nice. 

To do so, they wanted to grab a specific castle, although calling it the castle was a bit of a misnomer. It was called Eagle’s Tower, and that was all it was really: a simple Motte and Bailey tower. But it was situated in an extremely strategic place. The tower was at the point of a small peninsula of land between rivers five of the smaller rivers that made the center and northwest of Brune so fertile, two of whom were so deep and wide you needed to cross them at fords or bridges. The ‘castle’ commanded that peninsula, and wide areas on either side of the rivers.

If they could take it, they would be able to have a good defense against the dukes, both of whom held lands on the other side of Nice, towards the west of central Brune. Simply destroying the bridges could hold off enemy armies for much of the year. That was an idea that they would leave in reserve though since it would also ruin the land for farming. 

The united Silver Meteor Army moved on foot, something Elen was currently regretting as she heaved herself forward, grumbling irritably as she looked down at her legs. “You know, this moving on foot thing isn’t what I signed up for when I became a Vanadis.”

“Did they actually tell you what you were signing up for?” Tigre asked interestedly.

Elen laughed, shaking her head. “Not really. It was more of a spur of the moment, out of control sort of thing. When a Vanadis dies and the Viralt finds its next wearer, it usually comes as a shock. Heck, I wasn’t even a Zhcted citizen, not really, just the leader of a mercenary band allied with them against a Mouzinel army on their borders.”

Reminded of those memories, she looked around them and through the woods as men and several donkeys moved with difficulty through the woodland and scrub around them. The difficulty did not come from the density of the forest in this area, it was quite light actually. No, this area was mostly farmland, but the road was not paved and had become so muddy it was almost unusable. Thankfully there was no snow on the ground, it wasn’t nearly cold enough on this side of the mountains just yet for that, unlike in west of Zhcted. So despite the mud, they were still making a lot more progress than she had thought infantry forces could.

And that, she realized, was down to the training that the Alsacian boys had been put through. All of them were able to keep going, pushing forward through all kinds of terrain that would have made a man on a horse quail. Their scouts are good too, very good. So good she was thinking about copying their training for her own troops in the near future. Having troops that could move that fast over uneven terrain and who were that good at hiding themselves could be an extremely good idea in the future. Although it is annoying how long it would take to train them to that extent.

Nearby, one of those selfsame scouts whistled, two long hoots that sounded like an owl, followed by a chattering noise like a squirrel. Elen and Tigre moved in that direction, quickly coming on the man who had climbed a tree. He was Gaston, and Tigre exchanged a smile with his fellow hunter as he climbed up to join him, with Elen a step behind him. Gaston gestured out through the brush of the small copse of trees they were in. “We’re going to break back out into open territory lords,” he said, flipping himself down further. “But I don’t see any patrols out there just yet.”

Elen and Tigre looked out, not breaking through the foliage, that would have given their positions away, but hiding in amongst the leaves and trees to stare across the open farmland towards the distant tower. Or what should have been farmland, ripe with the last wheat or corn to be taken in with dozens of peasants out in the field.

Instead, the terrain in front of them was ruined. The fields had been either burned or trampled under, large segments of it churned into mud. Several farmhouses had been burned, although thanks to the rain that had marked out the past week occasionally had made sure it hadn’t spread. Here and there in the fields were spears, on which heads were stuck.

Elen had better eyesight than most, but Tigre’s put hers to shame. He was not studying the ground, the scout had said it was empty of scout patrols, so Tigre would believe him. No, he was concentrating on the top of the tower about half a league distant. The top of the outer wall would be just about at Tigre’s bow range from here. There the reason for this change was simple to see. The banner of Duke Thenardier flew from the corners of the square-sided, short, outer wall and from the center of the larger, four-story tall square tower. 

“I see…” he paused counting them off, “fourteen men under Duke Thenardier’s armor there. On a tower of that size, that's not many is it?” he asked, looking over at Elen. “And they’re walking around too, rather than staying still on guard.”

Elen frowned thinking before replying, “We might have actually caught them by surprise then.” She looked up at sky, nodding decisively. We’ll attack tonight.”

That night, Elen with her hair under a cap, so as to not stand out, followed Tigre as he led the way, out of the woods and into the ruined farmland. He moved so silently and swiftly over the ground that even Elen was surprised. His scouts were almost as good, and what should have been impossible, crossing muddy, burnt and ruined farmland without being spotted even at night, was actually accomplished far better than she had ever anticipated.

Then they were at the door to the tower, a small outer wall, scaling up it quickly with ropes which had grapnels on the end.

The clinking noises they made when they hit the stone above them made Elen twitch, but she went up the rope like a spider monkey and was on the parapet before anyone within could sound an alarm. There were men down in the tiny courtyard around the tower, four men with horses, and eighteen infantrymen armed with swords, and at least three of them were awake. All three turned towards her, but she leaped down towards them even as they shouted, “Gah, they’re here, the traitors!”

She cut down one and then the other two were taken down from above. Tigre then turned his attention to the top of the tower, loosing arrow after arrow, to the sound of screams above even as the men there tried to turn their own bows toward him. Yet Tigre was so much faster, the instant they tried to stick their heads and arms over the tower’s parapet, that man would die. Four men died within a few seconds and the others stopped trying to use aimed fire, and instead just shot in an arc over the edge of the tower. Tigre then jumped back over the wall hiding in its lee.

Grinning at seeing his skill, Elen raced the tiny distance between the outer wall and the inner heavily reinforced door and portcullis, shouting out the attack. “Ley Adimos!”

She didn’t use a full-powered attack of course. She didn’t want to wreck the tower after all. But the attack smashed into the door and the portcullis, shredding the door, metal bars and everything else. Then she was in, as others opened the door of the outer bailey, letting in the infantry as they moved forward as fast as they could, racing after her and up onto the outer wall to take the men there. Some had to raise shields against the sporadic fire from above, but really, the defenders had been caught so much by surprise, it was a foregone conclusion.

An hour later, the tower was theirs. The interior of the tower was sparse, but clean and well-organized. “It would make for an excellent forward command post,” Elen mused to herself as she watched a few of her men removing the bodies of their tower’s former occupants. “How did Thenardier’s forces get this far northwest from his own lands?”

“I suppose that Duke Thenardier also recognized the strategic position of this castle,” Tigre sighed. “That’s not good.”

“You know what that means don’t you,” Elen asked hesitantly, reaching out and squeezing his forearm upper arm.

“This tower is only important in a strategic sense because it can defend from this point any enemy trying to come up from the south or around the Resia to our west and northwest.” Tigre shook his head slowly. “And I am not so foolish as to think that Duke Thenardier took it in order to simply keep Duke Ganelon from taking it. No, he took this tower as the first ploy of taking the fight to me and mine again. His son’s death certainly assured we would eventually go to war, his taking this means he was much closer to acting on that than I feared.”

With that in mind, Tigre and Elen headed up to the top of the tower, where Elen pulled out a valuable spyglass, she had been given as a birthday present by Sofy, staring out around them. There was a lot of good farmland to the west of the tower, and that area hadn’t been despoiled as the area they’d traveled through during the attack. The roads though were just as muddy and nasty out there as it was to the north and east.

She could also see the reason why this tower, despite its less than impressive defenses, was such a good position. About forty yards away from the outermost wall to the west where the rivers began, coming up from the southwest. There it shallowed out into a ford. There was a bridge to the east and another to the west. The tower’s placement allowed it to dominate all three of the crosses and beyond to other, smaller rivers. And in this season, the rivers were heavy with rain, deep and flowing fast, which meant horses would have major issues crossing the first two anywhere but the fords, and men could be swept away. “Do you know what lord built this tower?” she asked idly, looking at a few peasants who had noticed the change of flag occurring upon the tower.

Tigre shook his head and Elen made a moue of faint annoyance. “Pity, he certainly had an excellent eye for terrain. With enough archers, this place could hold off an army for a season.”

“We have other men and donkeys coming up with arrows but what we really need is information and to disrupt any chances of people trying to push us out just yet,” the reluctant commander replied.

“Agreed,” she said brusquely. “I’ll push out mounted scouts along our side of the rivers, to either side. We’ll torch every other bridge we come across in every direction, though Ranma’s notes say we shouldn’t find many, it’s mostly fords. I’ll also be overseeing the repairs of this place. Whatever Duke Thenardier’s ideas, I doubt he wanted this place so rundown. His men really didn’t do him any favors here.”

Tigre nodded. “In that case, I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll start out with the scouts early tomorrow morning.”

Elen nodded, “Me too.” Then she smirked, holding up her hand like a child. “I get to use the Lord's quarters!”

Groaning Tigre nodded once more. “I’ll bed down with the troops.”

“What, not even going to complain? Or tried to insist that you should sleep there as the face of the Silver Meteor Army?”

“No, I feel that would give you too much fuel,” Tigre said, shaking his head in embarrassment at the idea of the name Elen had slapped onto their joint army.

“You’re no fun,” Elen said with a laugh. Tigre was a great deal of fun actually and Elen had enjoyed herself a lot over the past two weeks on the road. So much so, she knew Lim would have been on her case about her general attitude being not in keeping with her position as a Vanadis.

At that thought, her eyes turned back to the northwest, frowning. I really hope that Ranma was able to help Sasha. She snorted, Not that I’d be able to hear about it quickly even if he did.

The next day, true to his word Tigre was out of the tower before the sun was up. His men moved over the farmlands like ghosts, while behind them, the new flag of the Silver Meteor Army flew over the tower. At each farmstead he left a single arrow and a message: if you flee to the northwest, you will find shelter. Most of the farmsteads around the tower didn’t take that message seriously, not having felt the lash of war. But the message spread west over the next few days, as Tigre and teams of the raiders that Ranma had trained under Claus and Gaston, were sent out in every direction.

These were what Elen called cutting out expeditions. Where she got the term Tigre didn’t know, but their goals were relatively simple enough to understand. He would meet with the locals, the villagers and so forth, tell them his message of safety. And if they found any of the men of either duke, the raiders would attack from ambush. This included knights, earls or counts who were known among their people to either prey on those people or be leaning towards one duke or the other.

And, since the Eagle’s Tower was within a few weeks' travel by horse of the central territory, the three hundred leagues around Nice, the capital, there were many minor lords wishing to back one Duke or the other. Those lords had, mainly, already left their holdings behind, taking the majority of their trained fighting men, leaving behind only enough men to lord it over their peasants in the case of those looking to Thenardier. In the case of Ganelon’s forces, many had driven their peasants in front of them as slaves to be sold to Ganelon’s men and in particular, any women. It was a true example of making war on their own people as fiercely as they would the enemy. 

Any such troop Tigre found was attacked, but not once did he ever fight a face-to-face battle. That was not his strength. Instead, arrows would slash in on them during the night, or their horses would be spooked by sudden fires, or people would just sneak up and murder the guards at night. There were dozens of little ways that a guerrilla force like this could make trouble, and Tigre and his men did them, freeing dozens of estates and columns of slaves.

In this manner, Tigre’s message of safety was spreading far, far faster than he had actually anticipated. Within a day of them having conquered the Eagle’s Tower, Elen was staring out at a group of two-hundred refugees crossing the farmland around them looking over their shoulders all the time in fear.

The next day, there was a group of four hundred, mostly from a column of would-be slaves Tigre had freed. The day after that, dozens of small families from a single hamlet had decided to just up and leave, when they heard the forces of Duke Ganelon were heading their way. Those forces were not heading towards Tigre’s Tower, they were instead heading further east for another clash with the allies of Duke Thenardier.

Tigre came back with that group. He and the scouts he was currently with, had run out of arrows and needed some time to recuperate.

“It’s going well,” Elen said with a laugh, staring at the number of civilians that were now camped on what was now their side of the river. Those refugees wouldn’t stay there for very long, there wasn’t enough food for them in the area. They would continue on to Territoire and beyond where they would be put to work either on farms, or the smithies that had been set up to help the army. Those who worked to keep up the war effort would also be paid wages. Since the Silver Meteor Army had captured the war chest that Duke Thenardier had given to his son for his campaign into Alsace, they had enough money for that.

“True, at least in terms of protecting Brune civilians. We haven’t been doing as much damage to the forces of either duke directly as I would’ve liked,” Tigre said with a sigh. “We’re denying them allies and victims, but that doesn’t seem enough given the tales of major battles going on to the west of us.”

“Do you have any idea why they are so eager to flock to our banner milord?” Claus, who still lead the Alsace men asked, coming up and nodding to Tigre. Your quivers have all been filled, and your troops are getting some much-needed rest milord.”

“Good, they need it. Even after being put through Ranma’s paces traveling over that ground for me and mine is a killer.” Hmm… and it could be made worse very easily, Tigre thought suddenly, looking down at the map on the table. That map was continually expanding, updating every time a team of his scouts came back to report what they had run into. Something to keep in mind for the future. “As for why the people in this area are flocking to our banner, it’s not just the people in this area.” At the confused looks from his listeners, Tigre elaborated. “Until the last week and the heavy rains hit, the roads were more passable, and a lot of peasants from the west and central Brune were on the move, trying to get away from Ganelon.” He scowled angrily. “I’ve said it before, but Ganelon is making war on anyone who doesn’t support him as viciously as an invading army would. And peasants aren’t stupid, they need to be aware of rumors and army movements as any lord. So, of course, those who can are running.”

“They aren’t running from Thenardier?” Elen asked.

“Not as much. He doesn’t care about the peasants. If their lord joins him, he leaves them entirely alone. If not, the yeomen are conscripted and sent to the mines and the lord’s manor and men-at-arms slaughtered. The women he normally leaves alone.” Tigre’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Or at least his soldiers are not abusing them on order from him. If they do, so long as they maintain discipline, it doesn’t seem to matter to him.”

“Have you heard the nickname they’re giving you?” Elen asked elbowing Tigre in the side as she changed the subject. “The Kind Archer?”

“And you’re the Silver-Haired Maiden,” Tigre taunted back, his lips quirking out of his scowl into a real smile.

Elen laughed, ruffling her hair with one hand even as she blushed and looked away. Something in Tigre’s eyes there had caused her to become aware that that was an actual compliment and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

“But the other rumor I’ve heard about the most is about the Angel of Mercy, which is just hilarious,” Tigre said hurriedly, trying to change the subject himself. “Ranma an Angel of Mercy. The mind boggles, but I suppose it does fit given his healing skill.”

“And the fact that he was routinely female when he went about the peasantry out there, leading missions like yours,” Elen said with a nod. “I’m not certain I will ever get used to how rainy it is here in Brune in autumn,” she said with a sigh. “It’s nowhere near as cold as it should be, but the rain is kind of depressing.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” Tigre said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve always enjoyed the rain, before. Not so much now when I have to trek through it so much, but before, when I was a hunter, this would be the season where I would have the best luck against several of the larger game that make their home in the Voyes mountains.”

“Hmm. You’re going to have to take me hunting sometime you know. If you kill it, I’ll clean and cook it,” Elen replied with a smile as Claus bowed his way out of the room.

“That sounds like fun. I have to keep reminding myself that despite being a Vanadis, perforce a noblewoman, that you’re not nearly as squeamish as that breed normally is. You’re so down to earth. It’s nice.” Tigre suddenly grinned. “Although I doubt even you would like to clean and carve up some of the things I’ve downed in the mountains. That’s messy work, and it would be a shame to get your pretty hands so dirty.”

“Oh, you think my hands are pretty, do you?” Elen teased.

A second later she blushed rosily as Tigre replied simply, “Of course, they are a part of you, aren’t they?” It was a rather awkward response, but the implication set her pulse racing.

Their conversation was interrupted by Gaston rushing in, “My lords! My scout team and I have just returned from downriver and we have some dangerous news!”

Elen tsked, but turned towards the man willingly, although Tigre could’ve sworn, he heard something like, "and the mood was getting so good too," before she did so.

“What is it?” Tigre asked getting to his feet.

“Milord, there are at least two companies of horsemen, and some infantry coming towards us. They seem to be from Duke Ganelon’s army, at least they’re flying his flag along with a few others I didn’t recognize. There could be more after them, but I decided to break contact and return just in case they had their own scouts out.”

“Details, man!” Elen barked, who seemed to be in a sour mood for some reason Gaston didn’t understand. “How many in a company, are they actual men-at-arms, or peasant levies?”

“Men-at-arms for the horseman, each of them is led by a different bannerman though like I said I didn’t recognize who they were. Memorizing heraldry weren't 'mong my talents ‘fore Lord Tigre asked me ta sign on fer a soldier. Mixed armor on the lot, but they had some and they was all armed with real weapons too,” Gaston reported, coming to attention as best he could. “One cavalry troop had been spread out in a skirmish line, but they hadn’t spotted me or mine. We were hiding in a ditch, covered with cloaks and mud.”

Cavalry was almost never good at scouting. Not even Elen’s light cavalry was all that good at it, and the heavy cavalry mad Brune men were much worse. Even the light cavalry acted sometimes as if they were heavy, as if merely being on a horse made them the next best thing to invincible. And there’s also the contempt that has always been pushed on archers here in Brune. Hmmm, I wonder how that began? Certainly it didn’t make much sense to Elen, who when it came to warfare was a very practical sort.

“Calvary as scouts?” Tigre exclaimed, shaking his head. “Whoever is out there is arrogant beyond belief.”

“I thought the same thing,” of the scouts said, shaking his head. “But they actually were doing an okay job of at least keeping people’s attention on them.”

Tigre nodded at the man to continue and he went on. “Whilst Gaston here were pulling back milord, I stayed put. Had to, was up a tree near a ruined out hut, weren’t any way to get clear. But back a t’ose were a hand and a finger’s worth a' group of men, each of 'em led by a different banner. One of ‘em the size of one of lady Elen’s infantry companies. They e’en got archers, two large clumps, and a sorrier lot I never did see. But one of t’ose infantry groups, the last one I saw, were well-armed and armored.” The man shook his head. “T’ difference was pretty plain even ta a hunter from the hinterlands Milady.”

Elen smiled at the Alsatian calling her milady like that. It showed his people’s opinion of their interactions plain. And I thought I would have an upward battle thanks to Titta being the local girl. And the fact they are so willing to speak plainly to me and Tigre shows again what a good leader Tigre is. Most lords wouldn’t even listen to a peasant’s opinion at all, let alone trust them with something important as scouting.

However, she quickly shook those thoughts off, concentrating on the here and now. “They’re coming to the tower? Heading upriver towards us I mean?”

“They’ve got siege equipment and lots of other stuff. Yeah, they’re coming to the tower,” Gaston replied with a nod, which his men all agreed with, going into detail on what they had seen: lots of grapnels, a large tree that could be used as a battering ram, and larger shields that could be used against arrow fire.

Tigre scratched at his chin thoughtfully, before muttering, “I’ll need to make sure I shave some time soon.”

“Yes you will,” Elen said, shaking her head. “As handsome as you are, I don’t think a beard would do anything for you.”

She then blushed, realizing she said that out loud, while Tigre also blushed, looking away. "I, um, I'll be sure to shave at the newest opportunity then."

A cough from the scouts brought them both back to more important matters. “R, Right. Gaston, you and yours need to rest, but tell the peasants that are still camped outside that they’ll need to get moving. Claus,” Tigre turned to that man, “I want you to take your men out now. They’re more rested than Gaston’s. I want to make certain we have eyes on this group and see if you can launch a night raid to destroy their supplies, if they have any. If they are living off the land, see if you can set up any traps. If you can’t sneak in to destroy their supplies, stay hidden. See if you can set traps. I don’t want them to know you’re there unless you can make a decisive move.”

“Aye milord, I’ll see it done,” the youngest son of Alsace’s blacksmith replied, nodding his head firmly. “You’re not going to try to meet them?” Elen asked, a simple question rather than a reproachful observation. The Silver Meteor Army was Tigre’s show. If it wasn’t, the army of liberation would become an invading army in the eyes of the peasants, which they could not afford. Tigre shook his head. “No, they’ve got too many men for us to meet in the field just now. Most of our forces are still straggling this way from Alsace or guarding the peasants heading the other way.” 

While their forces numbered around five to six thousand men all told, most were irregulars, peasant men or poor men-at-arms and equally poor earls who could arm their troops but not armor them. This was especially true since Elen had not reinforced her initial troop strength with, which they had freed Alsace. She couldn’t, since again having a large number of foreign troops would make the locals turn against them, especially after the debacle on the Dinant Plains. 

Tigre had flatly refused to put most of those volunteers into the field without proper armor. For that, they were being rotated through Territoire and then down to Aude for armor and weapons, paid for by Zion’s war chest. He had also assigned Rurick the task of training up groups of new archers, as well as those archers they already had and those hunters who had come forward to fight against the corruption of the two dukes.

All of this was why Tigre had agreed with Elen that they needed to take the offensive for a few months and had pushed to take the Eagle’s tower. Once the cold hit, no one would be willing to make war in Brune, and they could use that time to train and arm their army.

“We’ll need to let them get close with us here in the tower. Besides,” he said smiling grimly as he patted his bow, “Artur said they’ve got archers out there along with siege equipment. But if they think that’s going to be enough to take this tower from me, I want to disabuse them of the notion that quantity can overcome quality.”

Half a day later, the first sign of the forces allied to Count Ganelon marched into view from the top of the tower. But they didn’t immediately attack. Instead, they seemed to have been thrown by the tower’s change of ownership. The cavalry milled around out of what they thought of as archery range, and while sending a few men back to the rest of their men, sent in an envoy to treat with Tigre. “My Lord Margrave Ceres wishes to make a deal with Earl Tigre!”

Tigre shook his head irritably. “As if after what Ranma reported of Ganelon’s offer I’d have anything to do with him or those who follow him!” Still he raised two hands to his mouth and shouting, “I am Earl Tigre and I will not deal with Duke Ganelon or any who have so lost their honor as to serve him willingly. He has broken the laws of morality, the laws of Brune, the laws of nobility!” Tigre stopped realizing he was actually getting quite heated, before shaking his head and shouting again. “The Silver Meteor Army holds this tower, and we will not yield, not to those who would despoil their own lands and those of their neighbors as if they were pirate or slaving scum instead of nobles of this fair land!”

There was a shout from all around and Elen roared out, “Three cheers for the Heroic Archer!” At that cheering broke across the entire tower and down the walls.

“Then you will die in that tower, Earl Tigre! My men will take it and despoil the corpse of the whore from Zhcted that you have wooed to your cause!” the man shouted back, before turning his army aside, with that the envoy retreated.

“They don’t know we were here,” Tigre muttered to Elen as he held her back from launching herself down towards the buffoon. “Come on Elen, he’s an idiot, no one who knows you would ever think that! Please just grrah, calm down!” He nearly found himself pulled off his feet as Elen took a step towards the side of the tower’s roof, turning his head to the other men around them. “Darn it you lot, help me here!”

“Sorry Milord, but you’re on your own for this one!” said one man, which caused the others to laugh and Tigre groaned but continued to try and convince Elen not to use Arifar to slaughter the attackers. There would be time enough for that kind of thing later after all. 

The attack commenced the very next day. It was a very quick assault, which seemed to indicate that they hadn’t actually changed their plans all that much despite the Silver Meteor Army being in control here rather than Thenardier’s army. Perhaps that’s because they didn’t really know how good archer Tigre is Elen reflected as she watched Tigre. Her part in this battle would come later, when the enemy broke.

He stood at the side of the tower nearest the enemy, an arrow pulled back to his ear on his family’s Black Bow. He waited a brief second, then fired, then had another arrow in the air faster than even Elen could blink.

“Why did you wait that first time?” she asked curiously.

“One of the men’s horses was in the way,” he muttered, even as he fired a third shot. “The animal’s haven’t done anything wrong, and besides, we can round them up after the battle is over. No need to target them here.”

He shook his head sadly. “Gaston was right. Duke Ganelon apparently doesn’t believe in armoring his infantry at all. Not even the commanders.”

Elen blinked at that and looked in the direction he had been firing. Even she had to gape at the four targets he’d hit, as the infantry quickly began to spread out, pulling back away from the tower, abandoning their shields and the battering ram. “You hit all of their officers?” she asked almost incredulously. I know he’s good, but that good!?

He shrugged, aiming to one side, where Elen could see several heavily armored cavalrymen beginning to gather for a charge across the ford. “It seems like the best idea at the time. And it looks like it worked too.”

A second later Tigre fired again, and this time Elen tracked the shot and watched it slam into the open visor of a knight or nobleman. He collapsed out of the saddle, his horse going one way, his body the other, tangling up several other cavalrymen who had been racing towards the Fords. With that, Tigre switched his attention to the other flank, doing the same to two riders on that side. By that time the other flank had composed itself, and he shot three more out of the saddle there.

At that point, the infantry had closed enough with the tower to start shooting back with their arrows. But to Tigre and his men, their archery was pitiful, a wild hail with no aimed shots. Tigre coolly sidestepped the one arrow that looked as if it was going to hit them, as he aimed, before ducking aside as more archers came forward. “Your turn,” he said looking over at Elen.

“Hmmph, so cavalier when addressing your mistress,” Elen laughed, stepping forward, raising her weapon above her head before bringing it flashing down. “Ley Adimos!

Her attack slammed into the incoming arrows, shattering them all and continuing on to crash into the field of infantry, tossing them this way and that. Then Tigre was up, raising a hand as he shouted, “Loose!”

From all around the circle tower other archers pulled back their bows and fired, some aimed, others simply using arching fire. Regardless, their arrows slammed into the reforming archers, and the charging cavalry. Several dozen more men fell from the saddle, and horses began to die too, messing up their charge over the narrow ford. The river wasn’t deep enough to stop a man from crossing around the ford, but it was deep enough to slow them down badly, which made them easy pickings.

One area Elen had Tigre beat flat out when it came to battle was experience. Tigre had only fought in four real battles before this and lacked her instincts for when to change tactics or when the enemy was close to breaking. She felt that moment now and shouted over the edge of the tower to those men of her own Leitmeritz who were here, two hundred infantrymen. 

Most of her cavalry was elsewhere protecting the peasants or guarding caravans of supplies or being retrained under Rurick in Viscount Augre's lands. Elen shouted for those unclear to sound the charge. Her men, all in light armor and short swords raced out, getting in close and stabbing, not just at the riders, but at their horses. None of them had the time for Tigre’s niceties in close combat like this. The cavalry retreated in total disarray, while the infantry behind them was little better, having retreated from the arrow hail from above, the Brunish disdain for archery having come to bite them in the rear.

As the cavalry retreated, they might have been able to reform, and then retreat. But then Elen was among them, along with fifty mounted cavalrymen, smashing straight through their scattered number and on to the infantry. Infantry who were mostly without officers, without armor, and without much training. The whole battle became a farce at that point. Most of the infantry simply fled the field entirely, while others tossing down their arms, going to their knees with their hands above their heads and shouting “Quarter, mercy, quarter!” Only about ten or so of the cavalry were able to reform and they slashed their way out of their own troops away. At that point, they were met by Claus’s scouts, who shot them down from the saddle.

“Well,” Elen said, setting her sword on her shoulder as she strode up to Tigre who was still standing on the tower’s roof. “That was fun. I wonder if the next group to attack us here will be so stupid about it, or just make up their own mistakes instead.”

“We should be so lucky,” Tigre replied, frowning pensively and staring down the river Resia. “I wonder what Ranma would be able to do with that monstrous strength of his to shore up our position here.”

“Hmmph, at least you mentioned his strength rather than his skill. I think I can match him in skill, but not raw strength.” Elen bit her lip, her thoughts suddenly flicking to Sasha, not for the first time since they left Leitmeritz. “I hope Ranma was able to help her…”

“Your friend? Don’t worry, he will do the best he can for her. I have a lot of faith in Ranma’s healing abilities.” Tigre paused frowning. “His sense of decorum and ability to be polite, not so much. So if he heals her but also starts a feud with your friend, I’ll apologize in advance and say I had no part in it.”

Elen giggled, then tried to stop herself. Giggling was so not something she wanted to do while on campaign and she could feel the grins of the men around her at her expense.

OOOOOOO

Sasha woke up slowly, stretching and almost but not quite moaning in delight as she felt utterly deliciously sore for the first time in far too long. It was almost like she had pushed her body as hard as she could possibly go in a battle or training exercise, but much better, much deeper. Good grief, but that was good she thought to herself complacently, before breaking out into wicked giggles.

She then turned, taking in the room as she slowly edged out from under the torn, shredded and wet sheets, not wanting to wake Ranma up. He who was still out like a light, splayed out on the battered bed, snoring lightly.

The sight caused Sasha to flush a bit, licking her lips before shaking her head and laughing at herself. Enough of that, remember this was a one-time thing. He’s too young for me to have a serious relationship with, and he isn’t a noble either, nor a Zhcted citizen. Sasha thought as she looked around the room again. Although, if he could somehow teach other men to have his endurance, that I would be so totally down with!

Sasha had two lovers before this, both more experienced than Ranma. Her first lover had been a ship’s captain from the far north. Large, blonde, hairy and quite a bit older than her, he’d had quite a bit of stamina although nowhere near as much as Ranma had shown last night. He had been killed by pirates about a year into their relationship.

As Sasha stretched in place, her smile of memory turned into something far more vengeful and wilder than anyone who ever had met Sasha since she became sick would ever have thought possible. Oh, the vengeance I took on them! Sasha knew the pirates in the Orlinas Archipelago still told tales of her vengeful march through their islands and fleets. It wasn’t her best memory. Sasha wasn’t a cruel person by nature, but that campaign had been the sight of violence and carnage that few who hadn’t been there would understand.

I wonder, if they know about my sickness, I’ve seen too many reports about them pressing into our waters to think otherwise. But I wonder how long it will be before they hear I’m cured? I might want to take advantage of that, maybe spread rumors that I am dying instead before the rumors of my being healed can spread, lure their men in, then slaughter their fleets? 

As kind and gentle as Sasha normally was to those who knew her, she was still a Vanadis. Her mission, her job as a Vanadis was to think about the defense of the country, and how best to make certain the city of Legnica and the lands around it stayed safe. At times, a penny’s worth of prevention is worth a pound of defense after all. If Sasha butchered enough pirates this season, they would be too frightened to make much trouble for several years.

In the bed Ranma moved restlessly, breaking Sasha out of her somewhat cold, calculating thoughts to look at him as he turned on his side, mumbling. The sight of his rear caused Sasha to shiver, her mind turning to the memories of last night instead of future problems, comparing Ranma to her second, and last, lover. 

He had been a nobleman who had been her mother’s best friend, an older man, much like her first lover. Despite the difference in ages being a little more than seventeen years, they had actually been preparing to marry. But then her disease had flared up. They had backed away from their plans at that point for that and a few other reasons. But like her first lover, the noble in question had been a very experienced man. 

With Ranma, it was the exact opposite. I had to do a lot of work before Ranma got into it, but afterward, by all the gods and saint! He was very much a virgin, very quick to pop, but Ranma had both size and endurance in abundance, as well as physical strength. Also, as a Vanadis Sasha had to hold back her strength with her previous two lovers. She had not had to do so with Ranma.

Although, I suppose I’ll have to replace a lot of the furniture in here. As she stood there the smell was also starting to get to her, the whole room smelled of stale sweat and other fluids, a heady, musky and not at all pleasant scent. Other details now registered consciously to her, and she flushed as she saw all the evidence of her, or rather their, passions.

The bed had collapsed at one point, the legs shattered underneath. The mattress looked as if it had been used as a Dragon’s bed, with several dents very visible in the mattress, which were not reforming as they should, as well as tears where the stuffing had leaked out. The sheets were more shredded scraps than actual sheets at this point, and discolored badly to boot, so wet even now they stuck to Ranma’s legs. The table had been shattered although Sasha couldn’t honestly remember how that one happened, and several actual dents had been made in the walls. 

Good grief is that why my rear is kind of sore? she thought with some relief. I thought that… well that’s better than the alternative anyway.

With each look around the room, Sasha would remember the damage happened, except for the table. Despite that minor mystery, the string of memories was almost enough to make her want to start up again. But she wouldn’t. Now that she was fully awake, Sasha knew it was time to set aside the night of passion and think clearly about what to do, both in the short term and in the long term. She resolutely moved over to the cabinet, pulling out some clothing, dressing as her mind worked. 

Short term, I have to wonder what my captain of the guard and Limalisha has found. But who would benefit from poisoning me? Sasha snorted, her normally kind face twisting into a scowl. Bah spoiled for choice really. The pirates of Olinas, Asvarre, heck, anyone trying to weaken Legnica could be behind it. Or it could be that anti-Vanadis cult, although I doubt they have the reach or the patience to use such a slow-acting poison, even if they didn’t want to take credit for it. 

The anti-Vanadis cult was an odd group of mid-class nobles and clergymen of some of the gods, particularly those of Perkunas, Dirge and Radegast, who felt that women should not wield magic. Indeed, many of them felt that women should not have any power and should be relegated to the home. And all the clergy had issues with the near veneration the Viralts were given as they had been gifted to the kingdom by the Black Dragon, rather than any deity. This, needless to say, cut into the power the churches could wield in Zhcted. The true anti-Vanadis cult was small in number and very much a fringe group thanks to the average Zhcted citizen’s awe and respect, even love at times, for the Vanadis though. 

Hmm… perhaps one of my neighbors, but no, every nobleman in Zhcted knows that if a Vanadis dies, another will rise to take up our Viralt and any short term gains they made would have been completely reversed upon her ascension to my position. Unless, it was a foreign power, and they were prepared to follow up on the weakness my death would have caused Legnica. Hmm… so it could, in fact, be pirates, or perhaps their normal employer in Asvarre given how they have been testing our waters of late. But still, something about that idea feels off. No, my instincts are telling me, this has to have been a personal attack for some reason.

As she was thinking, Ranma woke up behind her, causing her to turn towards the bed once more. He stretched and yawned, muttering something in a foreign language that she didn’t understand. The way he was clenching his abs though, and then gently touching himself lower, told the real story there. ‘Heh, sorry about that. I think we got a little carried away,” Sasha said drawing his attention to her.

Ranma looked up blinked, then blushed looking away as he very visibly remembered what they had been doing last night as well. “So this… I mean you said this didn’t matter r, right? he stammered. “Um we're not married or anything? I mean you’re pretty and all, but I don’t even know you very well, and well I got friends back in Brune and…”

“It was a onetime thing," Sasha said, feeling a little better about things now that she put it in verbally. Although why in the world did he think we would be married because of last night. I told him this was a single night of passion. “Don’t worry about that, Ranma. Just think of it as a learning experience. I’m actually more worried right now that this is going to put an end to whatever is building up between you and Lim.”

Ranma blinked, then nodded, a wan smile appearing on his face. “I hope that too. I mean, I guess maybe there could be something there but after this, I don’t know. She seems the kind of lady who will have a lot of trouble about what happened last night, even if we haven’t gotten past the getting to know one another stage.”

“Well let’s find out,” Sasha said brusquely. She wondered why he seemed so uncertain about romance and women in general given his other form and his abilities as a healer, but Sasha reflected it might even be caused by his curse. Perhaps he’s had problems with women because of his curse before? she paused, her letting her eyes rake up and down Ranma’s form as he’d sat up in bed. “That means you need to get dressed. Sometime soon anyway. Not that I don’t appreciate the view.”

He yelped, quickly rushing over to his clothes almost faster than she could follow, turning away to the wall to get dressed, only to pause as he visibly winced and found his body was unable to move as well as he was used to. She chuckled and moved toward the door. “Join us when you can, although could I ask you to do a few things for me?” 

Ranma made a noncommittal noise behind her, having paused in getting dressed, wincing as his muscles betrayed him. My reserves must be next to nothing if they can’t heal sore muscles! I know I used a shit ton of my ki to heal Sasha but even so, did she really wear me out that much last night!?

“First, I’d like you and Lim to stay here for at least a week. I want to make certain that I really am on the mend. I’d also like to talk to you about life energy, what you call ki. I think both of us would benefit from that.” Sasha waited until Ranma had nodded before going on. “But right now, could you open the windows. I’m afraid it’s rather rank in here.” With that and a laugh at Ranma’s full face blush, at once more being reminded of the night’s activities, Sasha exited the room.

Outside Sasha found her two chief maids, Natasha and Elissa, looking both worried and, in the case of the older Natasha, intensely amused. To one side her captain of the guard, Marti, was standing to one side, leaning against the wall his eyes closed as he catnapped standing up, a feat Sasha had always secretly envied in the man. 

Lim was there too, sitting on a chair in a corner and honing her sword with a whetstone, her face dark. Oh dear, that does not bode well for Ranma. For a moment Sasha wondered if she should say something to the younger woman but the gasps of delight from her servants put an end to that thought. 

“Milady you’re walking! How are, I mean, you look so lively!” Sonya said, moving toward her. 

“You certainly sounded lively last night,” Natasha cut in, winking at Sasha as her comment set the younger maid to blushing. “Finally found the cure for what ailed you then Milady?” Natasha had been Sasha’s maid for her entire life and took liberties not even Marti or her majordomo would have allowed themselves.

Sasha laughed, hugging the two women to her for a moment, before pushing them away, looking at Marti and Lim. “How long were we in there?”

“Three days milady,” Marti said dryly. “Was healing you so onerous?”

“From what I can remember, yes, I think that, ahem, aspect took a full night, maybe slightly more,” Sasha replied before changing the subject. “Yet I am awake, and well now, which means we have work to do. Has anything happened?”

The man nodded and gestured for Lim to speak. Lim nodded and spoke about how she and Marti had locked the castle down and captured one of two spies. They told Sasha how they had questioned the man, a cook’s assistant, closely, and found he had been the second of the conspirators, paid to add the poison to her food. “The other man, a scribe, got away before we could catch them. For that I apologize,” Lim said, her tone stilted and formal, even more so than she normally was. And she was not meeting Sasha’s eyes either.

Oh, dear, I'm going to have to do something about that, won't I? But first things first. “I would like to question this man closely, but first, I would like to walk around my gardens unaided for the first time in many a year.” Sasha began, looking over at Marti. “Captain, please move the prisoner to the council room. I will meet you there. Natasha, Sonja, if you two could make certain the kitchen staff is on call, I think that Ranma mentioned once that he would need to eat quite a lot to make up all of the magic he used to heal me. Limalisha, I would rather like to hear more about what Elen has been up to, so if you would not mind accompanying me, I would appreciate it.”

She might have worded that last as a question, but her tone told everyone it wasn’t and reluctantly Lim set her sword aside and moved to walk beside Sasha. The two of them were quite until they were out into the gardens situated at the back of the castle. There Sasha waited until they were far enough away from the doors leading back into the castle to keep anyone from eavesdropping, then began. “Lim, have you ever had Ranma heal you as he did me?”

“I did. I was not conscious of his healing me, however,” Lim allowed, even as she retained a controlled, icy expression. “I had been struck by a snake, it’s venom was working through my body and my mind had shut down. But I have seen him at work often enough before.”

“But if you were unconscious, then you don’t know what it feels like. Lim, Ranma pushes his own life energy into his patient, you know that yes?” Lim nodded, and Sasha went on. “The greater the wound, the more life energy he must push into the patient’s body to heal it. In my case, he also had to imbue his life energy into my body to discover what was wrong in the first place. I, I could feel what he was doing to me, could feel him healing me, and it was like, like getting a massage on the inside and out, it was euphoric and left me in such a state, well, you saw me right!?" she nearly shouted, actually embarrassed. 

Lim blushed as she remembered watching Sasha react to Ranma's healing, but Sasha continued, her voice quieter but no less sincere. “There was also my pledge to reward anyone able to cure my ‘disease’ by sleeping with him.” Lim's face turned even frostier at that, but Sasha went on undaunted. “I was desperate at the time I made that vow, and indeed was still somewhat desperate when you two showed up at my door. I would’ve been willing to lay with the ugliest, most depraved man in the world if he could heal me. It just so happened that I didn’t have to and the relief of that, the relief from being healed in the first place, and coupled with the feelings Ranma’s healing I could not have controlled myself even if I had tried. He made me reach the cloud and rain twice during his examination of me for goodness sake!”

Sasha took a breath and made an effort to calm down. “I know why you are angry, and before you say anything about him taking advantage of me, it being beneath my station to act in such a manner or it being none of your concern, realize that I was the one who initiated things. He worried about it about what you might think.”

“There is nothing between us anyway,” Lim muttered, looking away.

“But there could be, so long as you don’t muck it up,” Sasha said, reaching out to take Lim’s hand in one of her own, squeezing. “Ranma’s special. I’m not talking about his healing powers, and I’m not actually talking about his skill in bed, as amazing as those were. I’m talking about the whole package. Don’t let him get away just because he and I had a few days of passion, all right?”

“If he is so amazing why are you…”

“I am a noblewoman and Vanadis both,” Sasha said with a famous shrug of her shoulders. “And I am a Vanadis whose territory has been steadily eaten away by her neighbors. I’m in no position to even think about becoming serious with anyone. And if I did, well there were a few candidates already for lined up before I fell ill, including one I might well have started to fall for before I fell ill.”

Lim’s eyes narrowed, and Sasha shook her head. “Don’t blame him for not going through with his suite. He was a noble, and nobles have to play the game. And in the game of families, emotions play very little part.”

That didn’t stop the blonde from scowling and Sasha smiled, flicking the girl’s nose. “Whereas with you, they can. If you really want them to.”

Finally, finally, Lim began to unbend, a faint smile appearing on her face as the tension left her shoulders. “I will take your words into consideration, my lady. Of course, there really isn’t anything between me and Ranma so...”

“Not yet~,” Sasha caroled, causing Lim to flush a little and look away.

From there the conversation shifted, and Sasha led the way back into her castle. “Who was the man who escaped, did Marti tell you his name?”

“Yes, he was a scribe named Bernard, Marti said. He was on the palace staff for ten years?”

“Bernard… yes, I think I remember him. Odd, he is a rather mousy fellow, I would never have thought he was the type to be able to spy on anyone, let alone use poison.”

“Technically, he only provided the poison, it is our prisoner who used it,” Lim quibbled. “But I take your point.”

“Hmm… I meant that he too could be a middleman, certainly, he didn’t originate the scheme…ten years…hmmm…” Sasha murmured, then shrugged her shoulders. “I will have to discover why he was hired, I remember signing the contract I think, but I don’t know where he came from or anything else off the top of my head.”

Lim nodded, then supplied, “Captain Marti told me that he had originally come from Silesia. But that is all he could tell me.”

“Marti’s only been captain of my guard for two years, he was a lieutenant before that,” Sasha replied, falling silent as she thought about that, and about other things along the same lines. The capital, is it? But who recommended him? I know for a fact, no one works in my palace without a recommendation that wasn’t born in Legnica. And if he was behind this, was he planted that long ago? To spy on me, perhaps? And if so, what changed? Not that I have anything to go on, drat it.

“Tell me, did you and Marti search Bernard’s rooms for anything incriminating?” Lim nodded her head to Sasha’s question but stated they hadn’t found anything. That served to only deepen Sasha’s frown.

Moments later they arrived at the council room where the prisoner was waiting under guard by three of Sasha’s men.

The questioning of the prisoner didn’t last very long at all. As Lim had said, the man has simply been paid to add something to her food. The poison was a slow-acting one, whose name the scullery worker didn’t know, which had been found to imitate the illness her family had sometimes been diagnosed with, a little faster acting than that illness, but still extremely slow. The man had needed to give Sasha weekly doses before it built up in her system to a dangerous level. 

Of course, since Sasha also suffered from her family’s illness, it built up in her system at about twice the rate it should have, so he had pulled back on that. The man didn’t know who was paying for the poison, didn’t even know why they wanted Sasha dead. He had simply been blinded by the coins Bernard had offered him.

“How did he know to come to you anyway?” Sasha asked.

The man fell silent, and Sasha sighed, laying her daggers on the table. They flared into life and the man backpedaled despite the weapons being nowhere near him or indeed pointed at them. The fear of the Viralt did the trick all on its own. “Ahh!!! N, no! I, I had a gambling problem! He, Bernard found out and, he offered to help. I didn’t know what it was at first…”

“That is just an excuse,” Sasha cut in coldly, her normally kind face closed down in an expression of cold anger. “Adding something to the food of the castle would have been bad enough, adding something to my food alone? You knew what it had to be.” 

She waited for a tick, then leaned forward, deliberately putting her hands on Bargren's dual hilts. The only way you will gain any leniency here is to tell me everything you know about Bernard. Did he say anything about why he wanted to poison me? Did he mention where he got the actual poison from? Did anyone else ever give you the poison instead? Talk, and I might be merciful.” 

The man simply stared at Sasha, his eyes wide, and after a moment of silence, she shook her head in a twitch before looking over at one of the guards. He obeyed the unspoken order quickly, smashing into unconsciousness by a single blow from his club. 

Sasha stared at the unconscious man for a second, then sighed and stood up. “Hang him,” she said simply.

Neither Lim nor Marti so much as blinked at her decision. The man had betrayed his liege lord and his employer all in one. There was no other recourse but to have him hung. Anything else would seem like a weakness. And no feudal lord could ever be thought of as weak, especially a Vanadis whose position had been weakened as much as Sasha's had during her illness.

“Now, show me this Bernard fellow’s room. And get me my chief scribe, we need to know more about the man and quickly. Canvas the guards Marti, see if anyone can tell us if he left the castle at a set time every week if they had seen him around the city, anything!” Sasha said as she strode off.

OOOOOOO

Later, while Sasha was seeing to her household and not being needed any longer, Lim went in search of Ranma. She found him in the kitchen of course. Even after so short an association, she had learned that his abilities cost him in terms of how much he had to eat to sustain his body. Ranma paused in his destruction of all entire roasted haunch of lamb to stare at her as she entered, and quickly pushed himself away from the table, bowing to her. “I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry.

“Sorry for what?” Lim asked, somewhat thrown by Ranma’s quick admission of guilt.

“Well a lot of things really,” he stammered. “I mean I kind of did take advantage of her, you know? And well I, that is I didn’t want that, I mean… I know there isn’t, but I’d…”

Lim began to chuckle, shaking her head. “Enough,” she said with a long drown out sigh, releasing much of her anger. “I can understand what happened, and why on both your parts. And it isn’t as if you and I are in a relationship, or even have an understanding that we are moving in that direction.”

“Well that’s just it, I mean do you that is, do you want there to be?” Ranma asked, sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I mean I know I should be making this all romantic and stuff, but I don’t exactly have experience with that kind of thing, so I figured plain speaking might be better.”

What Ranma could have said was that romance stuff had never worked in his favor during his time in Nerima with any of his fiancées. It was almost as if trying to do something romantic acted like a magnet to drag in every bit of chaos in the area toward him. But he had decided to leave his whole fiancée trouble behind him the moment he arrived in this world and this conversation was one perfect example of why that was a good idea.

Lim blushed hotly, looking away as the stammer curse transferred to her. “I, I am uncertain. There is much about you I am interested by Ranma. At the same time, there are some things that bother the heck out of me.”

“The curse,” Ranma guessed glumly.

“No not your curse. Your curse I could live with. But your general attitude is growing on me and I’m not sure I like that. I also have my loyalty to Lady Eleanora to consider whereas you have no loyalty holding you bar friendship. But I…” Lim frowned thinking looking away tapping one hand against her thigh then looked back, almost coquettishly. “I think I would like to see if there could be an understanding between us. But do not expect anything to happen quickly,” she hastened to add as his eyes lit up.

“Right, um I mean you’re in charge of the pace and everything, but well that’s just, just great,” he said smiling happily.

She laughed, shaking her head at that, and then looked back at the meal as Ranma's stomach growled. “I think your lord and master needs you to finish that right now.”

Ranma laughed again and turned back to his work. And Lim sat to one side as he asked: “So, did you all catch the poisoner?”

After basically eating the rest of the morning away, Ranma found himself outside in what looked like a garden that a really rich manor house would enjoy, complete with gazebo, bushes growing along a walking path, and a very neatly laid out well-cared-for lawn. However, there was evidence that this was also the yard of a Vanadis in that the gazebo was right next to a training area, there were targets against the far outer wall of the keep, and a dedicated weapons locker set to one side of the entranceway Ranma spotted, while he walked out into the gazebo.

“And you’re telling me,” Sasha was saying with a giggle in her voice “That Elen wouldn’t ransom this young boy back only because he is so good with a bow?”

Lim nodded her head. “He also seems to be quite good as a tactician,” she said, grudgingly. “I’m not certain I like how much respect and responsibility Elen has given him, but I cannot deny the fact that he and Ranma both were well worth the time to get to know.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ranma mumbled, shaking his head as he moved to stand across from Sasha. 

She had finished some the majority of the work she’d had to do today to get back into the swing of things in terms of the castle and had already set up a working dinner with her local lesser nobles and merchant houses, to apprise them of her newfound health. She had decided that attempting to hide her renewed health would be useless, as rumors would no doubt get out. Sasha had instead decided to tout her good health as much as possible. That would hopefully do well enough to warn off the pirates from continuing to escalate their attacks on shipping coming from and going out of Legnica’s ports.

Closer to home, Sasha’s recovery would have a severe impact on the running of the city, which had gotten used to her being more hands-off than she would’ve preferred. In particular, several injunctions against waste, crowd management, and worker’s rights had been allowed to fall by the wayside as had her laws against price gouging. 

Not, thankfully anything to do with defense, Sasha thought to rather tartly. No one in their right mind in this city would ever think about stinting on defense. Not with the pirate kingdoms of the Orlinas Archipelago so close and the giant island Asvarre to the southwest of Zhcted.

Now, however, she wanted to put her newfound health to the test. After all, there is a vast difference between sex and combat, she thought to herself, flipping her daggers in her hands in a wide twirl that was so fast Lim could barely see the actual blades. The maids who had followed them out with tea and crumpets could barely see the spinning blur.

Ranma grinned as he stood across from her, his hands and forearms covered in gauntlets, although he had disdained them first. Sasha had insisted though. She wanted to spar the first time for half a year, at the least, with her weapons Bargren in hand. “If I don’t, they’re going to complain to me so much,” Sasha had said shaking her head patting the two daggers at her hips of affectionately. “Honestly, you two are such children sometimes.”

For his part, Ranma noticed the two daggers were laughing again. But it was a more sinister sort of laugh, like someone who knew one joke and found it funny but was about to play another joke that wasn’t going to just be funny but also humiliating to someone else.

Sasha stopped twirling her daggers, holding them in a combat position, one dagger thrust down from a position close to her chest, the other one held forward, its tip pointing towards Ranma. She waggled that dagger invitingly at Ranma, a small but very toothsome smirk appearing on her face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ranma said, cracking his gauntlets together. “I mean, you have only just recovered.”

“I’m positive,” Sasha said dryly, “now come on.”

Ranma sighed, but complied, without warning kicking off the ground and leaping into the air flipping himself upwards and around, coming down hard with an ax kick that should have taken Sasha by surprise. Instead, she simply flipped to the side and then back lashing out with her own kick. Ranma blocked it, then caught her leg and tried to throw her, but she twisted so hard she broke his grip and then was lashing out with her daggers.

The exultant shriek of those daggers nearly took Ranma aback as flames appeared searing towards him. But Ranma was able to dodge them still, and the attack flashed on for a second before cutting out abruptly. Then Sasha was in his face, twin daggers flashing in and Ranma could barely keep up.

Ranma had gone into this fight thinking that Sasha would be, generally speaking as skilled as Elen, regardless of her *ahem* endurance or far larger ki reserves. Now he knew his error, and he quickly compensated, moving faster, hitting out stronger. He quickly began to also try to utilize the Thousand Needle techniques, trying to deaden her grip on her Viralt. But Sasha was even faster than him, something that was going to take Ranma a lot of time to get used to.

Bargren’s edge instantly began to cut into the metal of his gauntlets like butter, scoring welts on his skin underneath. He took to the air, lashing out faster and faster, his legs and arms going at Amaguriken speed, but Sasha matched him, leaping into the air too, laughing wildly as she saw his momentarily flummoxed expression as Sasha used the momentum of his own attacks to rise higher in the air.

They were three stories in the air before they stopped, using one another’s momentum, and just began to wail on one another slowly falling back to the ground, daggers flashing along with fists and feet. “Did you think you are the only one who used aerial combat? My city is a seaport, and I have done most of my fighting in ship-to-ship action, where the ground is always suspect.”

“Duly noted,” Ranma muttered, flicking his head back to avoid a slash that would’ve opened up his nose at the very least. But that had overextended Sasha just a little bit, and he grabbed her arm, clenching his hand around her grip on her dagger. Her arm started to heat up under his grip, but it allowed him to get a punch through, which battered into her face, flinging her head back.

But she moved with the motion, her legs coming up and grabbing him around him his waist, her other hand coming up and flashing out with a blow that would’ve stabbed right into Ranma’s chest if he hadn’t blocked it as Sasha rolled them both in the air. Then they were nearing the ground and Ranma found himself planted there headfirst, with Sasha rolling away.

He flipped himself back to his feet, but she had already stopped her roll and come came back towards him in charge, shoulder checking him hard.

Ranma grabbed her, twisted and now was her turn to gasp as she’s was slammed headfirst into the ground. She still pushed off with her clenched daggers several boxing blows of jabs landing, hurling him away. She then rolled herself upright twisting around, her daggers already in a defensive position, as Ranma got to his feet.

“I think I’ve done with my warm-up now,” Sasha said, and Ranma had barely a second for his eyes to widen in shock before she was charging forward again even faster than before. 

What went on after that was not so much a spar as an ass-kicking. Ranma had very, very rarely been over-matched so badly before. Oh, he had met opponents who were stronger than him, even occasionally very, very occasionally faster than him, like Cologne and Happy. He didn’t rate Sasha’s skill as high as either of those shorty oldsters, but even so, she kicked his rear six ways from Sunday. She was faster, stronger, far more durable and she routinely drove Ranma into the ground over the next few hours.

But Ranma didn’t give up, getting back up each time until his stomach began to roar at him again and his wounds stopped healing. Because in style, he could beat her, and in ki, she had no equal to some of the tricks he could do. She might’ve overwhelmed him, but he had made Sasha sweat to do it, and that was enough to put a smile on his face as he limped to the tea-table under the gazebo after Sasha called a halt.

For her part, Sasha was astonished. When you factor in his healing ability, Ranma’s durability is just crazy! She thought ruefully, staring down at her daggers, who are no longer chuckling, evilly or otherwise. They were sated for now and gave the impression of young boys happy with what they had done for their older sister, hugging her legs tightly almost as she put them away.

She patted them companionably, wondering once again if all of the Vanadis weapons were as emotive as hers. Or perhaps it was just my sickness talking, that force me to treat them as humans to such a degree. Sasha set that aside though as she sat down, wincing slightly as one of her ribs tweaked. Ranma had gotten in a few shots and then had started to concentrate on that area s if he’d realized it, despite her best efforts to hide the fact that she had been hurt. And unlike Ranma, Sasha didn’t heal so fast you could actually watch the process in a matter of seconds.

His ability to learn is higher than anyone I’ve ever met! And he’s already a dangerous threat with that bag of tricks. Ranma had used what he called his ‘ki’ attacks during the second level of their sparring, and his pressure points attacks combined with the surprise of his distance attacks had actually given him the win for the only time that afternoon. 

With his learning curve I’d give him about a year, maybe less before he’s at the level I’m at now. On the other hand, he’s taught me just as much as he probably learned from me. Consciously using my life energy like that, that is going to be a very interesting area to experiment in going forward.

Still, right now I’d say he can go toe to toe with any of the Vanadis and beat them, maybe even Sofy. The blonde Vanadis was the second strongest amongst them, but she just didn’t have the endurance, either in terms of stamina or durability to fight someone like Ranma.

Yes, she thought to herself as she sat down, smiling happily as one of the maids set her favorite tea and small dainty in front of her, thanking the girl profusely even as her thoughts continued. Yes, Elen was extremely wise to tie this one to her, I just hope that lasts, now that by her own words he’s free of his honor obligation to her. On the other hand, his and Lim’s interest in one another could be another type. As could his friendship to Tigre, who Elen might be interested in. Hmmm, I wonder what they are up to over in Brune?

OOOOOOO

Roland, the great Knight of Brune stood, leaning against his horse as he read a scroll that a royal courier had handed to him. Roland was a giant of a man, equal in size to Duke Thenardier, if a bit slimmer, although despite that he was far stronger than the Duke physically. He wore black armor, had a giant black sword strapped to his back and black hair. Roland’s face had also often been described as handsome, although marred by a wide scar along his face directly below his eyes that cut into his nose.

Having finished reading the message he crumpled it up, scowling as around him his troops continued the work of cleaning up the bodies of their last battle. The battle had been relatively simple. He had tricked the enemy into thinking that he and the Knights of Navarre had pulled away from the border. When they had crossed the border, he had attacked ruthlessly, shattering their logistics train and then encircling them in a series of skirmishes to make his numbers appear far larger than they were. Then when they had been in disarray, Roland and his order had reformed and attacked full-bore, with him in the lead and his infantry closing around them, penning them in place up, so they could not use their greater numbers. 

With Roland to crack their lines like an eggshell, his men had poured through, and the entire expedition force of seventeen thousand men had been routed in two weeks of battle. Some of them would get back over the borders, he hadn’t pursued them all that hard after their army broke, but every noble had been found and put to the sword during the rout. With that, Sachstein would take years at a minimum rebuilding their forces along their border with Brune.

Which is a very good thing Roland thought, sardonic humor edging his mental tone considering that I have been called away. Curse it! “I have been ordered to the capital, and then to deal with this Earl Vorn fellow and his seeming alliance with Zhcted.”

His second-in-command, a blonde-haired fellow named Olivier frowned heavily. “Are you certain that this is the case? With all of the influence they have in court, Thenardier or Ganelon could possibly have influenced the King. As far as rumors go, Earl Tigre is doing nothing but defending those who come to them, after successfully beating off an attack by count Thenardier to ransack his earldom.”

“He has reached out to the Vanadis of Leitmeritz for aid,” Roland retorted, mildly however. Indeed, it was more a question than a retort.

“Perhaps, but perhaps that was the only ally he could find. And he had already been captured.”

“Captured and turned,” Roland replied, his voice still mild.

“That doesn’t match the rumors.”

Roland shook his head. “It might not, but as a Knight, I cannot listen to rumors.”

His second-in-command shrugged his shoulders, taking the rebuke, if that was what it was with equanimity and Roland went on, “We will prepare to march, yet you are correct. If we are being ordered to interfere in Brune’s internal affairs, which is directly against the remit of Our Order, I can request an audience of the king himself, and get the reason for the change of policy from him. Will that suffice to put your worries to rest my friend?”

Olivier bowed his head this time in a gesture of respect, and turned to shout out orders, readying a group of men to escort Roland to Nice.

OOOOOOO

News of Sasha’s recovery spread quickly, and in the main, there were four responses. Shock giving way to happiness among the peasants and middle-class who heard it. Awe at the recovery of the one of the Vanadis. Indeed not just any Vanadis, but The Vanadis who everyone believed was the strongest of this age. Joy, in those who knew her personally. 

As an example, Sofy heard about it as she was on her way to Elen’s Leitmeritz and through to Brune’s capital of Nice on a diplomatic mission. She instantly turned aside, using her power twice to speed up her journey to see her old friend.

And then there was the fourth response: Fear. Not fear in Zhcted’s enemies, who had yet to hear about it. In these Medieval times, information and rumors could only spread so fast after all, and more importantly spread far slower between countries than internally. Rather, it was those whose plans for the future, which were suddenly upended who felt fear, a great deal of it.

In an undisclosed location deep in Zhcted, several men met at a pre-chosen but secret location. This was in a hidden basement which was made to look like a council room. Or would, if there was any real light to see by beyond a single candle set in the center of the table.

One man slammed a heavily beringed hand down on a table, the rings visible for just a second in the light of before he pulled it back, an angry voice bellowing, “How is this possible!?”

“There is some confusion on how she was healed,” said another voice, almost conciliatory, but wary at the same time. “Apparently, a new healer arrived, sent to Alshavin from Viltaria, one of the people who had interested her in Alsace.”

A third man scoffed at that, shaking his head angrily. “We should not be involved in that, that cesspool! The moment Duke Ganelon began to grow powerful and the royal family did not step on him or Duke Thenardier, they tolled the death knell of Brune as a united country. Their civil war is going to go on for at least a few years, and it will be bloody and dangerous beyond belief.”

“True, but there are others that are going to start fishing in those troubled waters,” said the fourth voice. His voice was almost crackling with age, yet sharp for all of that. “Mouzinel for certain is going to start probing Duke Thenardier’s borders and those of the east of Brune. And Sachstein has already tried. They were rebuffed.” 

The man laughed, the sound a cackle. “There is a reason why the Great Knight Roland is so rightly feared. He’s already smashed the majority of their expedition force and has cut off their entire army. I imagine within a week that army will either sue for peace or just surrender outright. A force of seventeen thousand men surrendering to a force of less than six. If they don’t, Roland will crush them. He has no pity for any enemy of Brune.”

“A pity that he could not be the Prince then,” the first voice said angrily. “We could do with such a powerful ally on our borders especially with Mouzinel making expansionist noises once more.” He paused, obviously reining in his temper if how his hands clenched and unclenched around one another on the table was any indication. “Regardless, let us concentrate on the topic at hand. I was told that Alshavin would never recover from the poison we were feeding her. How could any healer no matter how skilled reverse the effects of that poison after it’s been in her body for so long?”

“We don’t know. We know only that the man arrived, with Limalisha, Viltaria’s second-in-command. They spent about an hour meeting with Alshavin before she acquiesced to his attempts to heal her, a process we don't know anything about. At that point, the man also seemingly figured out she had been poisoned, and Limalisha and Alshavin’s captain of the guard started to lock down the castle. Our mole barely got out ahead of the lockdown and had to leave the actual poisoner behind.

“And then, three days later, she walks out fully healed. There are rumors going around Legnica that she went through with her promise to sleep with the doctor who was able to heal with her and that that took up most of those three days,” said the elderly voice. “There’s also rumor that he then fought her in a sparring match in her garden. He didn’t win, but he certainly put on a show for her guards and servants.”

“That’s rumors,” the second voice said sharply to the fourth, one hand making a chopping motion, only vaguely seen in the light of the candle. All four of them were very careful to keep their faces from showing to one another. Of course, they all knew one another, but this way, there were no names or faces exchanged. After all, what they were contemplating was arguably treason against the laws of Zhcted.

“What is more important is that the Vanadis are not going to be as malleable and isolated as they should be,” the man with the many rings said, scowling angrily. “Obertas alone we could have planned around kept the others at each other’s throats. But now that Alshavin is on the mend, she will keep that from spreading further. The balance of power in Zhcted is going to tip in the Vanadis’ all too soon, especially if this power grab in Brune works out for Viltaria. Luckily, we forced Viltaria to admit those lands would become crown lands, but that is a double-edged sword.”

“The Vanadis have always had divided loyalties,” said the third voice speaking up once more, a sneer in his tone. “Their loyalty is to their Viralt first and foremost, then their own lands and then finally to the nation as a whole in the form of the king. That is a recipe for disaster, I’ve said it before. We should have pushed for the laws of Zhcted to be changed years ago. Those magic weapons are a necessary evil, nothing more. Give them positions in the army but no lands, and they will lack a true power base from which they can challenge the rightful…”

“That has never been within our abilities and you know that Spiritualist,” the first man interrupted slamming one hand down on the table. Underneath the rings that hand showed distinct signs of age, even if the voice did not. “Concentrate on what we can do, not what your imagination would wish us to do.”

“Still, perhaps we should take this with a grain of salt,” said the creaky voice. “After all, there have been whispers of the pirates spreading out and something going on within Asvarre. Alshavin’s being back to full strength would guard our borders.”

“Perhaps Diplomat, but Alshavin is already far too strong for me to like still being around. We must find some way of corralling her if not outright control her.”

“To control a Vanadis is not all that simple, that’s why we tried to poison her in the first place. But, there are ways. Ways to make certain that she does not leave Legnica if nothing else,” the second voice murmured.

“Smart thinking, Spy. And we can levy a new tax on Leitmeritz and another tax on Viltaria’s newly required lands. After the conflict, there has simmered down with the onset of winter at any rate. To do so now would be shortsighted in the extreme. In the long term, it will make those new lands far more pliable, or start an insurrection against Viltaria and her local tool.”

“But more importantly,” the first force went on, his hands coming visible again in the light of the candle, “Nothing can be found that can link Alshavin’s poisoning back to our cabal and in particular me. Have Bernard disappear. Have his handler disappear, have everything and anyone connected to this disappears.”

“Leader,” one of them said hesitantly, “They could perhaps remember that Bernard was recommended by the royal palace’s majordomo. Is that…”

“I said every connection,” the man with the rings said coldly. “Did I stutter?”

Unseen in the shadows the others blanched and the one called Spy muttered. “Yes Leader, your will be done.”

OOOOOOO

Because Sasha wanted to make certain that her newfound health didn’t falter again, she asked Ranma and Lim to stay for at least a week in Legnica. Although that was more due to the worries of her people than she thought that her new health would desert her. She also wanted to load Lim up with gifts for Elen for sending Ranma to her, and for little Ludmilla, who had agreed to it.

“Actually, I’ll be sending more gifts to Ludmila if I’m honest,” she said with a laugh. “Bending on her own personal honor to not come in against Elen in favor of Duke Thenardier must’ve been a wrench. I want to show that I’m proud of her for putting the security of our realm and frankly reward her friendship with me.”

Thinking of the short blue-haired girl, Ranma chuckled shaking her head his head. “Yeah, I can see that having been a major issue there. About as prickly as a cactus, that one.”

Elsewhere in Zhcted, Sofy had heard about Sasha being healed once more. Thanks to Zaht's power of teleportation, Sofy arrived in Legnica within a few days of the rumors hitting the court in Silesia, having turned away from her present mission to Brune to do so. Ascertaining the health of the king of Brune, and returning with their current envoy to the enemy country’s court, as well as checking on the war effort, took second place in her mind to seeing if this rumor was true.

In her office, Sasha frowned as there was a commotion at the dorm, but smiled as one of her servants entered, and informed her another Vanadis had arrived to speak with her and moments later, Sasha smiled in amusement as her friend Sofy walked, almost ran really, into the room. “Good day Sofy, how are you doing?”

“That is my line!” the other Vanadis replied, practically running across the floor towards Sasha where she pulled the slightly older woman into a hug. “So it’s true!” she said, before gently pushing the other woman away to stare at her face and then up and down her body. She had felt the strength and vitality and the other woman’s hug, and smiled, raising one hand to wipe away tears. “So, you are healed! Completely?”

“Well it’s only been a week, but yes, I think this is permanent,” Sasha said with a laugh. “If you have any doubt about that, you can watch Ranma and I later today practice.”

“Ranma? The same boy who Elen found that could fight on an equal level with a Vanadis?”

“Exactly yes. Elen sent him to me, with Lim to help do the introductions. Beyond his combat skills he is also an extremely good healer.  Although I doubt that anyone has ever mentioned the upside to it, at least for us Vanadis,” Sasha finished ruefully.

Sofy made an interrogative noise and Sasha laughed, moving back to the table she had been sitting on and gesturing Sofy to sit next to her. “You know about life energy of course.”

Sofy nodded since that was the case. Every Vanadis knew about how their weapons tied directly into their life energy, the built-up vitality within them that allowed them to use the weapons in the first place and to perform many of the magical attacks that came with those weapons. Sofy’s own weapon, Zaht, was not nearly as powerful offensively as the others, but defensively and in terms of magic it was actually more powerful, given its ability to teleport herself and a few others any distance she wished. There were limits of course, and that spell was draining, although not as draining as Valentina’s equivalent. But she knew about life energy.

“Well, Ranma’s healing ability basically…” to her shock Sasha found herself blushing. “Um, he basically pours his own life energy into the person he is healing. And as a Vanadis, well I can feel that happening. It was like getting a massage inside and out all over your body. It was easily the most erotic thing I’ve ever had happened to me.”

“Is that why there’s a rumor going around that you…how should I put this?” Sofy said, a wide grin on her face now almost a cherubic grin as Sasha continued to blush. “That you made good on that little promise of yours? Did you have the two of you have to be rescued from dehydration?”

“Yes and no actually, he was quite able to keep up with me, but after three days…”

“Really?!” Sofy interrupted, her eyes widening. Unlike Sasha, she was a virgin, although she was somewhat experienced with everything up to that limit. Sofy had been a noblewoman much like Sasha although from an extremely minor house, and her family had arranged a marriage for her when she was very young. The man had been handsome, pleasant, and randy as all get out, especially because Sofy had ‘blossomed early.’ She had enjoyed his attentions immensely even if they never went so far as to dishonor her. 

And then Zaht had chosen Sofy. Instantly the man had decided that he would rather not be involved with a Vanadis since that raised her status well above his own, and their relationship had ended. Since then she had never been interested in taking up with another man, although she had learned to use her body to get men to follow her advice at need.

Sasha just nodded, still blushing as she looked away. “Yes, well, he um, had the stamina anyway. But he, er, was um, a virgin so I had to do most of the work. Looking back on it that wasn’t my finest hour really, but sheer relief and the fact he’d used his life energy to heal me, which sort of acted like the world's best massage, well I couldn't control myself,” she confessed before very obviously changing the subject. “But he is an even better fighter than he is a healer.

“Oh, is he as good a fighter as Elen said?” Sofy replied, deciding to let her friend off the hook for now.

“You’ll find out later on if you wish to stay and watch us spar,” Sasha said, and almost dangerous grin appearing on his face. He is quite good, and an extremely fast learner two. He’s been here for a week since we um, finished, and we’ve sparred every day since. Ranma’s already gotten used to my style and normal tactics and my Bargren’s less destructive attacks! He can’t do much about them at times, but he’s won twice out of the fourteen spars we’ve had. Which is better than most of my fellow Vanadis,” she teased, causing the blonde Vanadis to pout, putting her arms under her enormous chest which thrust that chest out all the more.

She and Sofy had never actually fought, Sofy was not a frontline combatant. But Sasha had crossed blades with three of her fellow Vanadis. Even while she was sick, none of them had been able to best her. Even working together occasionally, as when she stepped in to stop Ludmilla and Elen from fighting, they had failed miserably.

“So, what was your illness?” Sofy asked as she set down the cup of tea a maid had given her, smiling in thanks to the woman who bowed her head deeply and retreated.

Sasha waited until the woman was out of the room, before turning back to her guest. Not even her handmaids knew of her concerns about the origins of her illness, and she wanted it kept that way. “It wasn’t an illness,” she said bluntly. “It was poison. Ranma was able to tell that within about two hours of examining me that was the case. It mimicked the properties of my family’s normal illness, but it wasn’t.”

“Wh, what!? Who would poison you!?” Sofy stammered in shock. 

“It was one of my own servants actually. He had taken money to add something without actually knowing what it was from another servant, a scribe named Bernard. Then after that, obviously he was an accomplice. And had to keep doing it even if he wanted to stop.”

Sofy shook her head, regaining her equilibrium with the ease of several years as a politician. “One of the other countries? Some pirate prince? But that makes no sense, I would they get the money to the man. Surely you have people watching your servants as well as…”

“I know precisely who in my city has dealings with other nations, and yes they are all watched,” Sasha cut her off, watching the other woman carefully.

Sofy frowned, thinking. “Some noblemen you threatened or whose honor you impugned? No most nobles would sneer at the idea of poison, even against a Vanadis who they thought had honorable issues with… So who?”

Sasha sighed, then shook her head. “I can’t tell you that.”

Sofy blinked, then leaned forward abruptly the movement setting her breasts to jiggling in a way that had Sasha been the sort to become jealous or annoyed by another woman’s beauty would’ve set her off.  “You know who was behind it!? Tell me! Together we can…”

“We can do nothing. I only have supposition and suspicion at the moment. And I refuse to share that with anyone just yet. Not without proof. It would do more damage than good to Zhcted,” Sasha replied with a firm shake of her head.

Sofy bit her lip, then slowly nodded. “Just tell me if you have any suspicion of it being another Vanadis."

She breathed a sigh of relief when Sasha shook her head emphatically. “No, I don’t suspect any of our sisters.”

“Thank goodness!” Sofy said leaning back. She had suspicions about Valentina. Although she hadn’t ever really thought that even Valentina would go that far, it was the first thought that had come into her mind when Sasha refused to say anything. But if it isn’t another Vanadis… oh… OH… right. Not going to speculate on that any further.

Sofy deliberately pasted a smile on her face then. “Well, if you’re not going to tell me anything, I won’t speculate needlessly. Instead, tell me are you going to reclaim your position as the moderator among us Vanadis? Let me tell you, I would cheerfully give up that duty.”

“No doubt,” Sasha laughed. “But I won’t be doing so just yet. Legnica has gotten far too used to running itself and must be taken back into hand. And then, I’m going to probably have to prove to the pirates and others that my health has returned entirely.” Bargren began to flame up at that and she smiled lovingly at them patting each dagger hilt. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Sofy nodded, reminded once more that Sasha was a perfect example of the weapon choosing women whose temperament matched their own. Sasha was warm, friendly, almost demure at times, but when she flamed up in anger or violence, she tended to burn all around her to ash. No wonder her nickname is the Princess of Luminous Flame.

“Now come,” Sasha said standing up, “if you want to see Ranma in action, I am in a sparring session with him in a few minutes.”

“Mah, he’s still here?”

“I requested that Ranma and Lim remain until I was certain that I was on the mend permanently. “They both agreed, and I’ve taken the time to load them up with gifts for Ludmilla and Elen in thanks for setting their own issues aside to send Ranma to me.”

“Well, at least let me finish my tea first,” Sofy said.

Sasha laughed and gestured to a window. “You’ll be able to watch us from there you tea addict.”

Sofy nodded agreeably to that, and as Sasha left, sipped at her tea pensively for a few moments before she heard the sound of battle outside. Then she stood up, still carrying her tea - she was not a woman who liked to have her tea interrupted - and went to the window Sasha had indicated to look out over the garden at the back of the palace.

There she saw the palace’s owner and the young man in question doing battle. This was not a spar, this was a full-on, if you make a single mistake you will be scarred for life or dead, battle. She wondered idly on why Sasha had called it a spar, her weapon coming into her hand, as she prepared to teleport herself down to help her fellow Vanadis.

But then the grins on the two people registered, and she calmed down slightly watching intently. The boy was good, seemed to be as at home in the air as on the ground, and was incredibly flexible and tough if the damage he was taking from Sasha was any indication. She then watched one punch he landed on Sasha cleanly, without her being able to move with it floor the woman, causing her to stumble back, her head ringing as the sound of something being hit repeatedly reached her. Hmm, what was that?

His follow-on kick though was caught, and the boy found himself on the ground. A mule kick freed him, but Sasha was still able to land a blow of her own that sent the boy flying backward like he was shot out of a catapult.

Ranma rolled with it, kicking off the outer wall in a move that was so smooth it looked as if he had practiced it a million times, coming back in even as she charged forward. The two of them exchanged blow after blow, dodging, ducking, blocking, redirecting, thousands blows, their movements becoming so fast that Sasha was having trouble keeping up.

“All right,” she muttered to the empty room, “He is able to fight on an even footing with a Vanadis.” She shook her head with a laugh. “Oh, but that’s going to make some waves.” She didn’t care about the implications of that to national security or anything else though. If it was true that this young man that helped heal Sasha, then not only Legnica but all of Zhcted owed him a vast debt.

And so do I for healing my friend Sofy thought. She watched until she finished her tea, then moved over to set the cup down by the saucer,

After that, she walked through the palace and out into the garden, arriving in time for the battle to end. Both of them moved over to a table, where Lim was already sitting, going over a list of something or other. The woman was known as an incredible organizer, Elen’s right-hand woman, and Sofy had no doubt that Sasha had taken the opportunity to get some use out of Lim herself. Sasha saw her coming, and smiled over the young man’s shoulder at her, gesturing her over.

As she walked towards them, Zaht let out a giggle but Sofy didn’t let it distract her. Her Viralt was always laughing at something. She sensed it was laughing at Ranma, but even that didn’t bother her as she looked at him with interest.

At the mental sound of laughter, Ranma turned, frowning as Lim looked up from her work, quickly rising to her feet and then bowing formally. “Lady Sofy, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had arrived, or I would have greeted you already.”

“Oh that’s quite alright Lim, you’re not in my service after all, and I’ve never been one for formalities outside the court,” Sofy said with a laugh. “And this must be Ranma,” she went on, her gaze turning to the young man. “I have heard so many rumors about you. Although from what I just saw, at least one of those rumors was a simple fact, and I understand from Sasha that I have you to thank for her healing?”

With a faint smile Sasha did the introductions, waving her hand grandly to Sofy.  “Ranma, of no last name he’s shared just yet, be known to Sofy Obertas, Lady of Polesia, Vanadis of Zaht and current go-between us all.”

Ranma, nodded his head slightly, although unbeknownst to him, his eyes had widened, and there was a faint blush on his face as he concentrated on the woman carrying the magic weapon that had been laughing at him. His eyes had traveled down once before he was able to pull them back upwards, but that one glance had been one heck of a treat. Oh my God! That must be the biggest chest I’ve ever seen! And blonde hair too, um, wow… so I do apparently have a type… “But gods she’s gorgeous…”

Ranma frowned then looking at their faces and groaned, holding his head in his hands blushing hotly. “I just said that allowed, didn’t I?”

As Zaht’s laughter ended, Sofy giggled, while Lim fought to keep a scowl from her face. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first person to give me compliments like that. Although that was much more heartfelt than most.” She actually had to give the younger man some credit. When meeting her for the first time most men, especially young men, would have been staring at Sofy’s chest for an appreciable amount of time, maybe even after she coughed to get their attention if they were particularly uncouth. Ranma didn’t, he had glanced down once, then concentrated on her face. 

Actually, is he looking at my hair? Testing the theory, she raised a hand to her blonde curls and played with them with a finger, and watched his eyes twitched sideways to the movement, his blush deepening slightly before he turned his gaze back to her face. Hehe, oh my this could be fun.

“Although I am surprised to see you still here Lim,” Sofy said, before turning back to Lim. “I would’ve thought you would be at the front with Elen.”

Lim shrugged her shoulders. “It was decided that Ranma would need more than a letter of introduction, given what fantastical abilities we were trying to convince Lady Sasha to believe in. I was assigned that duty.”

“Ouch,” Ranma muttered, “well excuse me for being a duty.”

Lim flushed and kicked out at the boy’s shin, thankful that she was wearing her hobnailed boots as normal. That cushioned the impact on her part, even if Ranma didn’t so much as let out a grunt at her kick. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Giggling, Sofy drew Ranma’s attention back to her deliberately shifting in her chair to see if she could get his eyes to track down again. To her surprised respect, he kept his eyes locked on her face. Hmm, so, a tremendous amount of self-control as well. “What can you tell me about yourself Ranma. As the go-between of us Vanadis and the King’s voice occasionally to the others and vice-versa. In that position will have to make a report formal of Sasha’s recovery to the court eventually. After I finish the mission I interrupted to come here at any rate.” Sofy felt a little guilty at that admission but not overmuch. Sasha’s recovery was just too important.

Ranma winced. “Do you have to? I really don’t want any more attention paid to me by the powers that be than I have already.”

“Why ever not?” Sofy asked, confused.

“Because I don’t to be tied down and made the Royal healer or some such shit,” Ranma said bluntly. “I want to be able to move around on my own, not be tied down to anyone. In fact, this whole thing with healing Sasha was because Elen said that she would consider it a payoff of my parole as her prisoner. I mean I would have healed her if I knew her regardless of that, but I wouldn’t have ever heard of it without that deal being offered so…” he stammered, but Sasha just waved him to silence, shaking her head and saying she understood what he meant.

“Even without considering my desire to not be tied down, I’m not a doctor,” Ranma went on. “Not as my people would use the term anyway. I can walk the walk, but it’s not really my choice of profession. I’m a martial artist, a fighter. That’s the skill set I want to make the most use of.”

Sofy shrugged. “I suppose I can understand that. It would be different if you were a citizen of Zhcted, but you aren’t.” She looked at Ranma shrewdly. “Hmmm. Nor are you from Brune, Mouzinel, or Sachstein. You could be from Asvarre, though I doubt it.”

Ranma blinked. “Did Elen tell you that?”

“No, but I can tell. You don’t talk like anyone I’ve seen before, you don’t have the natural respect or awe of a Vanadis and your looks don’t match anything I’ve ever seen in Sachstein or Asvarre. As the Vanadis of Zaht, I have been a special ambassador for years, so I have seen both those countries. I haven’t been into Mouzinel for obvious reasons, so I suppose you could be from there, but your coloration certainly doesn’t match the men of Mouzinel.”

“Erm, well would you be angry if I said I’d like to keep where I came from a secret? Until we get to know one another anyway.” Ranma added hastily, “Erm, it’s just, I don’t think you’ll honestly believe me, and I don’t want it to become common knowledge.”

“That’s perfectly fine. Still, you will need to give me some information on the poison you found in Sasha’s system. I will need to report on that.” Sofy held up a hand as Sasha made to speak. “I heard a few of your city’s merchants talking about that as I walked up to your castle, Sasha. It will get out. Which means I need to make a formal report on it.”

Sasha scowled but nodded. Darn it, there goes trying to downplay that or act as if the poison wasn’t found. Still, that was a long shot at best.

At Sasha’s nod, Ranma began to describe the poison, where it had started from – her stomach, and its symptoms. He then spoke about Sasha’s original disease. At first, he tried to downplay what he did to heal her, but Sofy wouldn’t let him, and Sasha gasped at the amount of work it had taken to heal her: clearing her marrow, basically using his own life energy to empower her body to replace all of her blood since it was tainted, while forcing out the old blood, and then clearing out her lungs, hearts and other internal organs of the poison. There had been more than just his being a guy in his letting Sasha have her way with him: he’d been too tired to fight her.

Sofy took several notes on the poison but didn’t do so about his ability to heal her. That she would keep to herself unless she was forced to share it in some fashion. In fact, I might not mention the poison either. It will be interesting to see if I can spot any reactions to that if someone else brings it up and I try to play it up afterward.

Shaking herself out of her musings about that, Sofy finished writing her notes. “And are you satisfied with your health, Sasha?”

Sasha nodded and then winked at Lim. “I’m even satisfied with the number of gifts I’m sending to Elen and Ludmilla. Why are you asking?”

“Well, I will be heading to see Elen soon, I diverted to see if the rumors were true about her health, but I really do need to get going. The king has decided what to do in terms of her becoming involved in this Brune Civil War. And I need to see the Brunish King on that point and others. And you did say you’d tell me more about yourself if we got to know one another,” Sofy teased.

“So you’re saying you want to travel with Lim and me?” Ranma shrugged while Lim stiffened very slightly, something Sofy and Ranma missed but which set Sasha to smirking slightly. “I suppose that’s fine, although you’ll probably slow us down a bit, horses are always slower on the long run.”

“Only in comparison to you,” Lim replied tartly, shaking her head.

“Hehehe!” Sofy chuckled behind one hand. “Don’t worry, I imagine I’ll keep up quite well. And we’re all going the same way, so it just makes sense traveling together.” She was actually looking forward to seeing this young man’s reaction to her teleportation. People always reacted differently, and she had yet to figure out a way to discover how they would react, one way or the other. And this boy was so self-possessed the idea of making him jump or panic or become sick amused her greatly. “Besides,” she said laughing lightly as she clapped her hands, “I want to see Lunie.”

“Who is that?” Ranma asked brows furrowed.

“Lunie’s Lady Eleanora’s cherish dragon. Sofy loves the little creature,” Lim supplied.

“Oh, him,” Ranma nodded. “Yeah, I like the little guy too. He seems to hate Furry Little Devils just as much as I do.”

All three women present cocked her head to one side asking, “Furry Little Devils?” in the same tone, as if question marks had appeared around their heads. 

Ranma shuttered, shaking one hand wildly in front of his face “Never mind, let’s move on.”

“I suggest you leave tomorrow morning. It looks as if it’s going to rain soon. Probably one of the last rains in the season,” Sasha mused. “Winter’s almost here in Legnica.”

The three prospective travelers nodded, and Lim stood up, picking up the list she had been working on bowing formally to each of the Vanadis and smiling at Ranma, far more warmly, Sofy realized, than she had seen before on her face. “In that case, I’ll separate the goods for Ludmilla out of from those for lady Eleanora now.”

“I think I’ll explore the city one last time,” Ranma said cracking his head his shoulders and neck explosively. “See you tomorrow morning.” With that he turned and raced for the outer wall, hopping up onto the battlements and then over to the other side.

Behind him, Sofy giggled. “My word, he is a most energetic young man, isn’t he?”

“…Why does that sound dirty coming from you?” Lim asked, honestly perplexed.

“Ara, it’s just your imagination, Limalisha, although knowing your mind works like that is somewhat interesting, isn't it?” Sofy replied, giggling behind her raised hand as she turned back to Sasha while Lim gaped like a red-faced fish. “So, what are your specific plans now that you’re healed? I assume that you will be sending a note to Elizabeth warning her off?”

A few hours after, the rain hit, forcing the two Vanadis inside, where they continued their discussion about current politics, their fellow Vanadis, Legnica’s traditional duties, and other things. Then after a very pleasant time with Sasha, Sofy availed herself of other Vanadis’ bathes, smiling and cheerfully humming to herself as she entered. She paused then seeing a redhead standing there. She was dressed in, oddly enough, what looked like random bits of silk clothing, grumbling under her breath.

And at the sight of her, Zaht chuckled, much louder than it had earlier that day. Zaht was normally a fun-loving Viralt at the best of times though, so his laughing once more didn't surprise Sofy. Although she was surprised that Zaht again didn't share what was making him chuckle. She got the distinct impression through their connection that she would enjoy a surprise soon though, so she didn't bother questioning it.

Ranma had not had a pleasant time out in the city. First, he hadn’t honestly spotted anything that he wanted to spend the money Sasha gave him as a kind of allowance. Oh, there were a few cool weapons, but none of them looked strong enough for him to use for very long. A giant war hammer from the far north looked cool, but the shaft was being replaced at present. Everything else he found was mostly in the way of supplies rather than anything he bought for pleasure. And halfway through this search, the sky decided to piss on him. 

And it kept pissing on him for the rest of the night, forcing him to buy some clothing that wasn’t quite as formfitting to avoid the looks of the men still moving around the rainy port. By the time she got back to the castle, those clothing too had been almost ruined by the rain. Damn me if it doesn’t remind me of Cambodia or Vietnam, Ranma mused, remembering how he (it was before Jusenkyo) and his father had traveled to those countries to learn Muay Thai and Bokator. But a hell of a lot colder and way more unpleasant. It really does feel like winter’s just around the corner.

Just as she was about to enter the baths, the sound of someone laughing at her reached Ranma and she turned as a light, female voice said “Ara, hello. My word, you don’t look well at all.”

“Gah!” Ranma blinked, flushing slightly. “Er, um, hello, er, I was just about to get a bath miss.” Ranma couldn’t honestly remember if Elen had told him that Sofy knew about her curse. But nothing she had said earlier that day indicated so one way or the other. And old habits, in this case hiding her curse, died hard.

“Ara, excellent, I always prefer to have company when I bathe. You can wash my back for me,” Sofy said, divesting herself of her clothing quickly in a small hamper to one side.

Ranma had been about to refuse when Sofy began changing, only for her still completely male mind to freeze at the sight. Holy shit…

Sofy was a lot softer around the edges than any of the other Vanadis Ranma had seen, but that didn’t imply she had much in the way of excess curves anywhere but where they did her the most good. Her rear was oddly both small and pert yet soft looking, her legs were powerful and long, without a single blemish, and she looked to be a bit thinner than Ranma’s female form. Her back showed a deceptive amount of muscles, and her hair, undone, fell down to either side of her. And her breasts! Even from behind, Ranma could see them swaying as she leaned down to pull off her panties. 

Ranma was in no way a pervert, but even after having spent three delirious days with Sasha screwing the living daylights out of him, he couldn’t turn away. There was simply a limit to any man’s self-control, and a naked Sofy's backside was it. 

That’s like a freaking work of art! To whichever god made Sofy, fuck if you didn’t break the mold. Ranma could actually feel her body reacting, her nipples hardening as arousal worked its way through her body.

Finally, though as Sofy pulled on a towel, Ranma, with a surge of something far too much like regret at her body getting covered, turned away. Almost gibbering now at what would happen if Sofy found out about his curse, or rather when given the whole hot water for a bath equation, Ranma moved quickly to the doorway leading out of the bathing area. “Erm, gah, um, well I don’t, that is, it would be beneath you to bathe with such as…”

“Nonsense!” Sofy said, suddenly behind her wouldn’t hear the word of it, grabbing her arm and dragging her back towards the inner door. “You can’t be going around the castle like that you look like drowned rat. And I’ve never been one to put stock in stations and such in the bathhouse anyway. Now, let’s get you washed up.”

Still protesting, Ranma found herself stripped rather adroitly by the older blonde. It might have had something with the feel of her towel-clad breasts pressing into her from various angles though as she pulled Ranma’s clothes off her. Or her fingers poking at Ranma’s stomach and side. “Good grief, you have some muscles on you. Are you a guard here?” Something about the redhead and Zaht’s initial laugh at her was causing Sofy to think she was missing something, something she had been told, but she couldn’t quite bring it to mind. Setting that aside, Sofy pushed the still protesting feebly redhead into a chair the large bathing area, smiling as the steam hit her from the bath, which was about fifteen feet to a side, lined with small, multicolored stones and tiles. “Now, you don’t need to be washed off given how wet from the rain you already are so... EY!”

With that exclamation, Sofy pushed the still off-balance redhead into the bath. Surprisingly the redhead tried to fight back, twisting and grabbing at Sofy, trying to push up off her arm and into the air. She almost did so, but Sofy had almost automatically fought against that ‘attack,’ grabbing at Ranma as she overbalanced, sending them both into the bath.

Sofy was blinded by her own hair for a moment as she grumbled pushing the redhead up against the side of the bath, finding herself sitting in her lap. “Mou, what did you do that for, I hadn’t even washed off yet… actually I never did…get… your…” Sofy stuttered to a halt as her brain registered what her hands and other senses were telling her. 

Soft chest? Nope. Hard muscles, though, quite a lot of those, yummy. Feminine grumble? Nope. A male voice, currently muttering about how he was too young to die? That there certainly was. Slowly, with one hand still on that nice, hard chest, Sofy raised a hand to push back her wet hair in order to see and found herself staring into the eyes of the young man from earlier that day. 

And just like that, what Elen had told her about Ranma finally came back to her. “Oh, oh! I, I completely forgot! red hair and, and turning into a girl with wet hair and back to a boy with hot water!”

“Um okay, s, so you did know about my curse. Does that mean you’ll forgive me for not, y’know, opening my eyes at the moment and maybe find it in yer heart to not maim me too bad? Heck, maybe just let me go?” Ranma asked, hope tinging his voice.

Sofy paused for a moment, her one hand still on Ranma’s chest taking her attention. Those muscles were not the massive type she saw all too often on nobles in the capital who thought that looking strong was all they needed to do, prancing around with the massive claymores they had never used in real combat. In contrast, Ranma’s muscles were slim and corded, the kind of muscles of a man who used them every day, solid as a rock under her fingers, which started to spread and caress without any order from her mind. 

Her eyes stared at that chest then further into the water, where they saw the six-pack, the side muscles, taut and strong, again showing these were the muscles of a man who used them constantly. And below that… big… very, very Big. Um, that is really flattering actually. Oh my…

 “A…a…actually I won’t,” she said with a pout that very nearly covered her blush, moving backward away from him, taking one last glance at Ranma’s hard muscles and below into the water, biting her lip before speaking once more. “I have a towel, so it’s not like you’ll see anything. I don’t see any reason why we can’t both enjoy the baths together. Besides, I am immensely curious about your curse! It is so fascinating to see your curse in person. How did you get it? What happens if you are in a cold or hot mist, is that enough to activate the curse? I can see it’s a full-body curse, but does it affect your mind or taste buds? Or even how you deal with what happens after you eat? I know women and men need to eat different amounts of healthy food and such even if everything else is equal. Ooh, what about colors? Men and women see colors differently too, don’t we?”

Ranma blinked at her questions while keeping his eyes on her face even as Sofy leaned deliberately against the side of the bath in such a way that brought attention to how formfitting a wet towel could be. “U, um, are ya sure this is the time for that?”

“Hehehe why not? Surely, you’re not objecting to being alone in a bath with me, are you?” Sofy asked, then released her deadly anti-male weapon: she pouted. Her bottom lip actually quivered as her eyes seemed to glisten more than the steam should have allowed for. She then added a slight bounce to her chest, almost looking like her breasts would pop out of the towel.

Despite knowing how bad a situation like this would have gone in his past dimension, Ranma had no defense against this, and he folded like wet tissue. “Er, um… do, don’t be like that, er, your questions right! Let’s see, it depends on what the mist is like. If it’s heavy and a real mist, then yeah it’ll trigger my curse one way or the other. Er, as to how I got it…”

What followed was easily the strangest bathing experience Ranma had ever had: bathing with a woman without her shrieking pervert. Without another woman coming in to shriek ‘pervert’ or to attack him. 

Sofy, after the initial moment, didn’t even flirt with him – or so Ranma thought anyway - she simply asked Ranma her questions, then asked about his training, getting the impression he wouldn’t talk about where he was. Sofy also believed him immediately about how his father had trained him when he was younger, saying “part of becoming the Vanadis of Zaht allows me to be very good at reading people, it’s why we have always been used as diplomatic envoys.”

In turn, Ranma, despite being tongue-tied by his gorgeous interlocutor more often than not, questioned her about the world at large and Zhcted. Sofy made this worse by little movements, shifting this way and that and stretching occasionally while complaining about a sore back or shoulders. It was all she could do not to giggle when Ranma nearly sank into the water at seeing a bit of side-boob at one point when she moved through the water to grab at a amphora of wine that had been set to one side of the bath.

And when she spoke Sofy didn’t bother painting Zhcted in as good a light as she could though, she instead simply told it like it was, emphasizing the beauty that could be found, the good people she met, rather than pointing out how Ranma’s abilities could have earned him a noble title somewhere or enough money to live on for the rest of his life. No, she had learned already Ranma had no interest in money for its own sake. He also had no loyalty to country, and certainly none to any king. What loyalty he had was given to his friends. 

And after talking to Sasha, seeing what Ranma had been able to for her, seeing his abilities, Sofy had decided she wanted to be Ranma’s friend. Now, seeing what else he had to offer, Sofy was wondering about perhaps something more.

OOOOOOO

While the news of Sasha’s recovery hadn’t quite spread beyond the capital or those towns connected by road to Legnica, there was one other Vanadis, who heard about it beyond Sofy, because she had agents of her own throughout the country.

Finished reading the report, setting it down, and smiled in utter delight. Excellent! Most excellent. With Sasha’s return to full health, Zhcted’s ocean border is secured! No small consideration judging from what I’ve discovered about what might be brewing in Asvarre. And this way Elizabeth will not have any ability to cause trouble with Elen again through Sasha, which in turn will keep Elen in Brune until the war there is done. Good, very good indeed. 

She looked down at a map of the kingdom, her hands flicking as she moved pieces this way and that, one hand coming up to rest on her brow at the pieces seems to disappear, teleported from place to place by the magic of her Viralt. For some reason, while it disdained using teleportation powers to transport other people, and even small objects, Ezendeis made an exception when she was playing games like this. It seemed to sense that they were more important somehow.

Finally, the pieces were where she wanted them, and her fingers tapped them one after the other as she spoke aloud, a luxury she only allowed here in her personal sanctum. “Elen and Tigre, one piece whose value is easily understood, and the other whose value will go up as long as this war continues, and he continues to excel beyond his humble origins. And of course, there is the rumor of his having shot down a dragon, although Elen didn’t tell Sofy or me about that when we met her in the capital.”

She touched another piece, her eyes softening slightly as she did so. “My own men sent in to aid Elen, and more directly hitch myself to their cause. Whatever that cause might end up being. I do hope she looks after them,” Valentina muttered, her smile going flat and dangerous.

While in the course of playing the great game of politics Valentina could be as cold as anyone, when it came to her own people, she was decidedly protective. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that there were so few people in Osterode in comparison to the great fiefs of the other Vanadis. Or perhaps it was because of all the effort she’d put into bettering Osterode’s position. Regardless, that was the case.

She then moved her hand to the king tapping it thoughtfully but saying nothing, before moving on to a piece carved to resemble a woman much like the piece that resembled Elen. “With Sasha at full strength once more, Elizavetta’s provocations into Sasha’s territory will end, I am certain. She is no one’s fool and despite her recent power-up, the reason for which I still haven’t found, she will know she is no match for Alexandra.”

She paused as her sacred weapon whispered something into her mind, and she shook her head. “There is no evidence of that my dear. Until there is, I cannot act. Once I have that evidence, perhaps. If it is in my interest to do so.”

Flicking from one piece to another, Valentina continued her verbal musings. “Ludmilla, hmmpf, she will not move from her icy fastness now. But she might, if the rumors about Mouzinel wishing to expand are proven true, serve best there. She won’t take part in any internal issues regardless. And the holder of Muma is still unknown, roaming the plains somewhere. Ugh, that girl! I don’t know which one irritates me most, Ludmilla with her airs of self-importance just because Lavias has passed directly down the matrilineal line for so long, or the holder of Muma for being so irresponsible.”

That the Vanadis of Brest not being there had allowed bandits and the horsemen who lived on the plains beyond Zhcted’s northern borders to assault through Brest into Valentina’s Osterode was left unsaid. Those problems had made her people stronger, but she still resented the need to deal with them in the other woman’s place. On the other hand, I have claimed much of Brest’s lands for Osterode, so I suppose it is a bit of a wash. I would still prefer to have my western borders stable and safe though.

Her hands moved to Sasha, fingers lightly caressing the piece she had designated the first the other Vanadis. The piece of the Queen. Normally she would have used that piece to denote herself. But if Sasha had indeed returned to full health, there was no other piece worthy of the woman. The respect she garnered from every other war made, including Valentina herself and her raw power made it so. “That, that will send reverberations through the halls of power within and without Zhcted. Hmm… I wonder…”

Shaking that unvoiced thought away for a moment, Valentina then tapped the two small pieces next to the Queen, the one that designated Ranma, a horse, or Knight, and the Rook for Lim. Neither piece had been carved to match the individual, being simple chess pieces, but they did, she felt, matched their personalities. Hard and unyielding tower of strength for Lim, and the wild in both appearance and how he moved Knight for Ranma.

She then tapped several other areas on the map, frowning heavily before going back to Tigre and Elen, her hands twitching back to Ranma, Lim and Sasha. Her thoughts at that point were too jumbled for her to give voice to. Then Valentina stood up, abruptly decisive. “This Ranma character and what he has already done has made me change a few of my long-term plans. And he is allied with Vorn and Elen. Hmm…I should probably distance myself from the other side of the ongoing issue in Brune. In that way, if I can bring him to my side there won’t be a preexisting conflict of interest.”

She ignored her Viralt’s sudden joy at that, Ezendeis speaking into her mind for one of the rare times it did so. Ezendeis had never been happy about her creating trade deals with Ganelon, sensing something inhuman about the man. But before this, his trade had helped enrich Osterode, so she had gone against her Viralt’s warnings. But now, while it would hurt to cut those ties the payoff down the line would more than make up for it. “But I need to know for certain. I need to know how Ranma healed Sasha, and, Sasha’s own political views. If she is against me…” With a scowl and a shudder, Valentina stood up abruptly and grabbed Ezendeis. “We are going on a trip, my dear. A very long one. Or at least,” she said with a giggle, as she opened the dimensional doorway, which would carry her halfway to the capital “we’ll be going a long way.”

OOOOOOO

“What do you mean I cannot see the King?” Roland growled, crossing his arms and staring hard at the three men in front of him. They were Ganelon, Thenardier and the king’s chief minister, the portly, extremely mustachioed Pierre Badouin.

“The king has not been himself since word of his son’s passing reached him,” Badouin said, scowling and shaking his head. “It has completely eroded his mind and health Roland. He has something like an hour a day where he is sound of mind and the rest of the time… nothing. He is either somnolent or completely insensible, shouting and shrieking all the time.”

Roland scowled, looking to first Duke Thenardier, then Duke Ganelon. “And why are these two here? I have heard of their ongoing conflict between them, that kind of thing is almost close to treason.”

Duke Thenardier simply stared back, unafraid, while Duke Ganelon smirked. Pierre, however, shook his head. “Perhaps, perhaps not. But, with the Prince dead and with the king in such a state,” he shrugged his shoulders. “The kingdom needs a strong ruler, however he claims the throne.”

“Besides, you shouldn’t listen to rumors,” Duke Ganelon said. “Yes, we’re vying for control but not in open war. Our allies are more boisterous in making their own allegiances plain of course, but not our own men.” Do these men take me for a fool? Roland thought. “While my position on the frontier might remove me from politics and rumors, that does not mean I do not hear them, certainly not when called back to Nice like this.” He sighed then, shaking his head. “But with no clear threat, or break of the laws of Brune, I cannot act against either one of you. Not without my King’s leave.”

That was alas the truth. While Brune was indeed a nation, it was a very feudal nation as a human from Ranma’s world would have put it. The king ruled, yes, but he ruled due to his lands being the largest city, Nice, and the areas around it. Most of the men of Nice, King Faron’s own men, had died on the Dinant Plains with Regnas. Nice was still a power itself through wealth and goods, which gave Pierre a power base, but not a military one.

The king ruled through the respect and traditions his nobles paid him. A tradition that said only the strong could rule. And King Faron was no longer strong. The king ruled through family connections, yet both Ganelon and Thenardier had a connection to the royal family, with Thenardier being the closer and Ganelon’s being in the past. One of the two had to become the next king. The king ruled through the will of the gods. But given what had happened to Regnas and now king Faron’s own weakness, it was obvious the gods no longer favored his direct line.

As all this went through Roland’s thoughts, Pierre sighed, moving over to a desk nearby. He picked up a piece of paper wrapped in parchment and sealed with the king’s own royal seal. “A few days ago, the king was well enough to be told of Earl Tigre treason, his working with a Zhcted Vanadis, the same Vanadis whose army killed the Prince. Perhaps it was that which drove him into true madness. But regardless, he was well enough at the time to write this Letter of Condemnation against Earl Tigre and his forces. They are officially in revolt against the crown, a clear and present danger to Brune. They must be dealt with.”

Roland slowly took the parchment, staring down at it, then up at Pierre and then over to Duke Thenardier. Duke Ganelon he had no time for whatsoever. Yes, the man was a Duke, but the rumors of his debauchery and vileness had spread, well before rumors of his power-grabbing had. But Thenardier was different, he was a renowned war general, and a powerful warrior in his own right. So though he disliked him, Roland also respected him. “Is this true?”

Duke Thenardier shrugged his shoulders. “The Vanadis was the one who led to the attack that shattered our army on the Dinant Planes, whether or not she killed the Prince herself or simply one of her soldiers is immaterial. Their alliance is why I sent my own son against Vorn’s people, but they stole a march on me, having forces already in place able to ambush and overwhelm my son.”

One rumor that had not reached Roland was that Duke Thenardier had used dragons in that campaign. That would have moved the seriousness of his assault on Alsace to an entirely new, indefensible, level. Roland would have been forced to act against Thenardier for use of dragons against Brunish citizens.

But he didn't know that, so he simply nodded his head, scowling. “In that case, his treason is clear. Yet I still have my duty on the borders.”

Duke Thenardier snorted. As do I elsewhere against Sachstein and Mouzinel.” The two men exchanged a hard look at that ignoring the others in the room. Anyone who studied politics and geography in any detail knew the true threat to Brune and it wasn’t the threat that route Roland had been assigned to. Yes, Sachstein was powerful, but it was not the great power of the continent that Mouzinel was.

“Yet this internal thread is dangerous as well. If we turn our backs on it, it can be the spear that takes us in the spine, while we still defend our borders elsewhere. Vorn has convinced others to join him in his treason too, the count of Territoire, the count of Aude, several Earls. But, if we smash the Vanadis’ forces and bring Vorn to heel, that should force the others to give up their treason. We will have to be practical in their cases perhaps, but that would be best for the nation,” Duke Ganelon interjected.

Roland’s eyes shifted to him like a hunters on a rabbit, narrowing in disdain. I wonder if anyone has ever told him to his face that he resembles nothing so much as a small frog, or perhaps a lizard. One of those that scurries for cover whenever it sees people. There just was something gross and disturbing about Duke Ganelon, it was as if the perversions depravities and dark deeds that had become synonymous with his name had given him their own aura.

Alas, that did not mean that the man didn’t have a point. “Very well. I will need up-to-date data on this Silver Meteor army’s movements, and I will need remounts for the men who came with me. I might’ve left most of my men in the Northeast, but the ten that I brought with me rode our own horses near to death to get here. Beyond that, I will need supplies prepared and, on the road, to meet my Order as we march and at least a dozen scouts who know the land as well as can be expected.”

“How long before you think you can take the field?” Duke Thenardier said nodding his head to a nearby servant who rushed off for those preparations.

Roland scowled. “I will leave two thousand men on the border, five hundred of my heavy cavalry, a company of scouts, and my infantry. In this season, moving them would take too long and not doing so will free up my baggage train. A week and a half to bring my light cavalry and the majority of my heavy cavalry down from the Sachstein border into Brune proper. A day or so to get the lay of the land and then travel time to wherever I can hurt this Earl Tigre. I will not give an estimate of how long that will take, as I have never served north or east of Nice and have no idea of the terrain there. Still, once I do, I can bring him to battle easily enough.”

He smiled thinly, looking over at the map of Brune that of was affixed to one wall of the Kings council room, large, though only vaguely detailed that map might be, it showed every town and village and hamlet, and his eyes rested on one in particular, before flicking back to the Dukes and then Pierre. “Anything else will depend on the roads, the weather and other conditions on the ground. Before that, may I at least give my regards to my King? I don’t have to speak to him. I only wish to see him.”

Pierre nodded, wild Duke Thenardier and Duke Ganelon simply stood stoically. “So long as you’re not wishing to hear a response that is fine. But only you, Chivalrous Knight Roland.” The man said, his beady eyes flicking to Ganelon then to Thenardier. Thenardier simply shrugged, while Ganelon snorted, but neither said anything and the man turned, leading Roland the short distance to the king’s personal bedrooms.

In the next room, Roland stood in front of the four-poster bed within lay the king. But he was not the king that Roland remembered. The last time Roland had seen Faron he had been large, not a giant, like Duke Thenardier or Roland himself, but still a tall, decently built man, stooped with age perhaps, but still strong. He had personally used Durandal before giving it to Roland and raising him to lead the Knights of Navarre. That did not match the man on the bed. The king’s cheeks had become sallow, his body was emaciated, almost to the point where for a moment Roland wondered if he was even eating at all, since Regnas’s death. His beard was wild and unkempt as it lay on his chest, and his eyes were closed, his face a rictus of pain and grief as he tossed and turned weakly.

“The wasting illness has been horrible,” Pierre said from behind Roland, shaking his head. We knew that the king was somewhat ill before Prince Roger took the field, it was why Roger had to take the field in the first place, to show his mettle to our lords. Instead…you know what happened. News of his death against the Vanadis broke something in the king.”

Roland nodded, then knelt by the bed, his sword, the great treasure of Brune called Durandal in front of him. This was a large black claymore with an extremely wide blade with golden veins formed into a cross that spread down, widening into a broad pommel beyond a ruby inset into the golden veins. The sword was extremely magical and had been bestowed to the first king of Brune by the gods Perkunas, chief of the pantheon worshipped in Zhcted and Brune, and Triglav, the god of war.

Still kneeling there, Roland then kissed the hilt of his blade and formally held the hilt out to his liege lord in token of supplication. He held that pose for a full minute, before rising, turning to Pierre. He had his duty and he had his orders. That was enough.

Outside, Pierre locked the door firmly behind him, tucking the key in one voluminous pocket, before looking at the two Dukes narrowly. “It’s done. I hope with this that your own issues can be sorted out quickly? Brune must have one ruler, one strong leader whoever that might be. We cannot afford to continue to war amongst ourselves. I estimate we have at best, the rest of this campaign season, and two, perhaps two and a half months next year after the thaws before Mouzinel at the very least invades in force.”

“And it is only because of Roland smashing the probing invasion of Sachstein that we have even that much time. Do not worry Pierre, this power struggle will be finished by the start of summer,” Duke Thenardier said with a nod. He then sent a sneer toward Duke Ganelon and strode off.

Duke Ganelon allowed himself a little chuckle, a gurgling, almost vile sound to Pierre’s ears, as he too turned away. Thenardier might think himself so powerful and learned, but really, he’s quite easy to manipulate. With this, either a Vanadis will die and this Earl Tigre’s forces shatter which will allow me to sweep up most of the pieces afterward, regardless of what Thenardier thinks. Or Roland dies. Roland’s death would serve my true purposes even better in the long run. And all it took to get Duke Thenardier to agree with me was the mention of it being an expedient move and the loss of a few thousand humans in a vain attempt to take that tower. Now I need only sit back and watch the fun begin.

OOOOOOO

Valentina arrived in Legnica a day after Ranma and his companions had left. That made her moue in annoyance but knowing what little she did about what was going on in Brune, she wasn’t going to complain. Besides, if Ranma becomes involved in the little skirmishes that are occurring around Eagle’s tower, then my pikemen might see him in action. Which can give me more information about his combat abilities. That leaves it to me to find out what I can about Ranma’s healing skills.

After hearing the other Vanadis’ name from her majordomo in her office, Sasha frowned. She didn’t know Valentina well. In fact, she barely knew her at all, but there were a lot of rumors about the woman. Still, I suppose a face to face will tell me all I need to know about her one way or the other. “Please, let her in,” she said before correcting herself. “Actually, escort her to my gardens please.” If this becomes violent, at least that way I won’t be destroying my own castle.

Valentina found Sasha there, sitting at a table with tea for two. She smiled at the gesture and sat down across from her. “Mah, I take it that the rumors about your recovery were actually true. I’m very happy to hear that.”

“Your well-wishes are warmly received, Lady Estes.”

“Valentina please,” Valentina replied. “We are both Vanadis after all. Surely we can be informal if it is just the two of us?”

“Valentina then,” Sasha allowed. “Tea?”

“Yes, please, with one lump of sugar.”

Sasha nodded and waited until her senior handmaiden Natasha poured the tea and left, gesturing around her as she made small talk to allow Valentina time to drink. “I like it here. I might’ve started funding these gardens when I was sick, but it is truly a nice, calming place to be.”

Valentina nodded, looking around as well while sipping at her tea. “It is indeed, and now you have your health to enjoy it with more before winter sets in at any rate.” Here in Legnica, it would never be quite as bad as it would get elsewhere in Zhcted thanks to the hot winds that continually came off of the ocean, but it would still become far too cold to enjoy being outside. “And yet, that leaves the question of how your health deteriorated in the first place and how you recovered.”

Sasha smiled thinly, sitting down her teacup. “If you wanted to meet Ranma, he left yesterday to head to the front in Brune. He left with Sofy, and of course Limalisha.”

“That’s quite all right, Valentina said with a smile. “Oh, I would have deeply enjoyed meeting him, for many reasons. But, I am also here to meet with you.”

“With me?” Sasha asked artfully. “Why ever would you be interested in me?”

Valentina giggled as if Sasha had said something amazingly funny, giving Sasha an arch look as if to say, ‘Really?’ in response Sasha laughed too, although hers was a little forced and Valentina asked bluntly, “Were you really sick lady Sasha, or was it something else?”

“Why do you want to know Valentina?” Sasha asked instead of answering directly, crossing her arms. This, not at all coincidentally, put her hands close to the hilts of Bargren. “What’s your game? I’ve heard rumors, bits and pieces here and there, your alliances with this or that noble. On the surface, all you seem interested in is making Osterode more prosperous. Yet somehow, I just cannot believe that is all you intend. What is your game? What is your goal?

Valentina leaned back, removing her hand from around her own Viralt, where it was leaning up against her chair. Instead, she used both hands to hold the teacup to show that she was no threat, saying. After a moment Sasha uncoiled, but she was still looking at the younger woman sternly. And Valentina smiled thinly as she finally replied. “My game is the only game that matters, the game of ambition, the game of nobles.”

“And what exactly does that entail?” Sofy asked, scowling. “If you think to ask me to…”

“Oh no, I know better than to ask you to join with me in whatever I am planning. No, I would much rather ask you what your opinion of Ranma is.”

“Why? And speak plainly Valentina, while I can do the whole political doubletalk, that does not exactly imply that I enjoy it.”

Valentina smiled again and then sipped at her tea. “You tell me something and I will tell you something.”

That caused Sasha to frown, but she nodded. Unless she wanted to physically threaten the other woman, they were technically equal in rank. Yes, Sasha was the senior Vanadis and that counted among them but not to the extent of simply demanding answers. “Realizing there are some things I will not tell you, what do you want to know?”

“Was it poison?” Valentina asked very bluntly. To this Sasha scowled, looking away but that was answer enough and Valentina frowned. “I see, interesting.”

“I thought so too when I found out,” Sasha ground out through gritted teeth.

“Very well,” Valentina said before Sasha could get any angrier, changing the subject abruptly. “I will tell you. Ranma is a power. He is also an unknown. Yet already he has affected the not only our own country, but Brune to a lesser extent. He might have been remained hidden in the grass before he healed you, but now he is going to be standing on the stage in no uncertain terms, whatever is going to go on in Brune. He will be approached, seduced, treated with, threatened, anything anyone can do to woo him to their side. I would like to see if I could get him on my own side or at least neutral.”

“Neutral in relation to what?” Sasha asked her arms moving back into a cross under her chest that put her hands once more near her Viralt’s hilts.

Valentina realized that Sasha was very close to drawing on her, and decided that for once, she could not afford to tell anything less than the total truth. “I wish to be Queen,” she said simply. “Not now, not so long as the current king reigns. But I wish to rule.”

She saw something flicker in Sasha’s eyes, but was it anger, a flash of some memory or… satisfaction? Valentina didn’t know what to make that and watched Sasha leaned back, once more uncrossing her arms, placing her hands around her own teacup as Valentina had, from which they had not moved since.

“The king is a good honorable man,” Sasha said as if by rote. “He has led our country well, strengthened our balance of trade, strengthened our defenses, enlarged our borders to the north.”

“And yet, he has allowed some knots of internal strife to fester, has allowed several of our Vanadis to be nearly ostracized from high society, and our foreign policy is held together by spit, wire and Sofy’s gentle graces,” Valentina replied smoothly, before shaking her head. “I am not here to argue whether or not Victor is a good king, I simply wish to succeed him. With Ruslan dead, through another rare disease…”

“DO NOT mention him!” Sasha nearly roared, her voice low but so intense it set a rumble through Valentina’s body. At her side Bargren flared up as well, sending out a blast of heat that simmered in the air around them. Valentina’s eyes widened and she didn’t need Ezendeis’ sudden warning in her head to know that Sasha was now seriously contemplating murder. Everything else had been simple bravado, this most decidedly was not. “I, I apologize. I did not realize you were acquainted with Ruslan.”

“…There is no reason you should have. Our, our relationship was against his father’s wishes. Yet we were close to announcing a formal engagement when I fell ill. At that point, we knew we could never have children and mutually broke things off.” When talking to Lim, Sasha had implied that it had been the fact he was a nobleman That had forced her possible husband to end their engagement. That had been a white lie, made to avoid discussing the true facts.

Ruslan Volk Estes Tur Zhcted was the son of King Victor, the only son in point of fact. He had been well-regarded by the nobility and peasant folk alike and had even had friendships among the Vanadis, and in his early thirties was reckoned both a fantastic diplomat and general, having beaten back an Asvarre invasion fleet and an invasion of nomads from the northern plains with help of the Vanadis, one of whom had been Sasha. He had married in his early twenties, but his wife had died in childbirth. After that, there had been rumors of his being involved with several noblewomen, but nothing ever came of those rumors. He was still a bachelor four years ago when he contracted a disease that drove him mad before killing him within a few weeks’ time.

For her part, Valentina was astonished and somewhat annoyed to find that there had been something to those rumors, even if they had never mentioned Sasha by name. Drat! If I had known that at the time, I would have changed some of my own plans in regards to Ruslan. She almost shivered in fear as her thoughts went to several different, very scary places. The thought, oh my word, Sasha must never find out I flirted with him! was followed by good gods, what a ruling pair they would have made! My ambitions would have become next to impossible with the two of them waiting to take the reins of the kingdom. 

Yet that thought did not stay in Valentina’s mind for very long as she remembered how she had personally investigated Ruslan’s death. She hadn’t been ordered to do so by the king. No, Valentina had investigated Ruslan’s death because she had genuinely respected Ruslan, and while she had not had any passionate desires to him, she saw him as someone she could have learned to love, not just as a tool for her ambition, although he would have been that too. 

I eventually decided it was a natural illness simply because I never found evidence for it to be anything else. I still haven’t. Yet someone was able to poison Sasha and would have gotten away with it cleanly if not for Ranma and his odd abilities. If so, then perhaps the crown prince was not beyond their reach either. The timing is also extremely suspect. That thought made Valentina very, very afraid, and for a moment she was going to blurt out her concerns but decided against it. I have no proof after all, and the last thing I want is for Sasha to go on a rampage, either directed at me, or in an effort to find the truth so far after the fact.

Across from her, Sasha had not noticed Valentina’s introspection, lost as she was in her own thoughts. At first, these were dominated by her memories of Ruslan, then she forced herself to think about what she knew about those in a position to be chosen as Victor’s successor. Victor was old, pushing seventy-five or so, a remarkable age. Yet he had to name a successor soon, and there were a few men of proven ability and lineage who could be named so. 

None of them had a very large following, however, and moreover, while the two men she was thinking of had military experience, one of them had far more and even had friends among the Vanadis, while the other was more popular among the nobility. Neither was popular among the merchant class or the peasants though. Beyond the two of them, in a direct line, there was only one grandson, whose name was Valery. Sasha remembered him as a toddler, but had not met him since 'her family's illness' had hit her. “Valery… I don’t think I know much about the boy. Understandable of course since he was barely seven or eight when I became ill.”

“Valery’s a darling child,” Valentina said promptly, looking almost amused as the interruption brought her back to the here and now. She set her darker thoughts aside but did not forget them as she tried to concentrate on the here and now. Sasha looked up at her, one eyebrow rising, and that might be why she shared a bit of what she had learned about the youngster in question. "He's bright, quite energetic with all the inability to sit still of a ten-year-old boy, and has the most amusing crush on Ludmila.”

“Wait, what?” Sasha asked, the thoughtful and dangerous Vanadis falling to the wayside as the young woman who loved to gossip came to the fore. “Truly?”

“Indeed, you should’ve seen Valery when last he was at court. Ludmilla was there at the time. It was almost quite cute the way he blushed and stammered when she was around. His eyes hardly ever left her even when the King was holding court.”

For a moment the two women simply giggled, forgetting their previous conversation and the tension that had grown between them. The sheer cuteness factor found in puppy love was one of the things that united every woman, much like the idea that they had first right to any baths.

Then Valentina brought the tension back with a bump, “And of course if I make him my heir when I take the throne, I won’t have to provide an heir of my own body. He is no threat to my ambitions, and his crush on Ludmila could be encouraged, using his marriage to a Vanadis to the next generation of the throne.”

“You realize that if you seize power, the balance of control in Zhcted is going to come crashing down,” Sasha retorted, scowling as she was forced to concentrate on something so serious once again.

There had always been a very tenuous balance of opposing strengths in Zhcted. The first and least organized were the merchants and nobles. Sometimes they were the same people - a noble also being a merchant - but most of the time not and they very rarely moved in lockstep. But they were the ones who truly ruled the purse, and provided a large number of goods, and services throughout the kingdom and had a massive voice in the laws and trade regulations of the nation. It was a noble’s duty to maintain the majority of the roads in their lands, while it was the tax on trade and merchant goods which helped maintain the central government. Nobles also provided men in times of war of course and the merchant's goods.

Then there was the King and the King’s Army. This was a hard-bitten professional force of around ten thousand men, who maintained the King’s peace and the King’s royal roads and the King’s taxes. The king also had his Excubitores, his spies and agents. Of course, the king’s army was also called upon to defend Zhcted’s borders, if the country was facing a major invasion, and given their professionalism and organization, could have a major impact well beyond their size.

On those borders were the Vanadis, whose loyalty to the king had to be sacrosanct, bolstering his power against the nobles. Yet they also offset one another’s powers and influence with the king and the country. Also of course, there were numerous nobles who resented how powerful the Vanadis were, not only in terms of land but simply being women who could wield power that could shatter armies. In addition there was also the fact that with the Viralt came noble status and not just noble status, but the highest of noble status, the equivalent of Dukes, powerful ones since three controlled cities. 

Even the Louries, down whose line Lavias had passed unbroken for centuries would not have been noble without that. Of the current Vanadis, only Sasha and Valentina had been born to even medium rank nobility. Elizaveta had been born to a bankrupt merchant house. Olga Tamm, the absent Vanadis of Brest, was borne to the horse-riding nomads of the north. Sofy to a very minor earl’s house. Elen had been a mercenary and daughter of mercenaries. To say regular nobles often resented the Vanadis for being set so high above them was, to put it mildly.

If a Vanadis became the reigning Queen, then that balance would break. The stability of Zhcted, which was one of its strongest points in relation to its neighbors, would break. “I don’t really call it a balance. I call it a sliding scale, and given what you just implied, I hardly see how you can talk,” she ended huffily. “I would have been his queen, but while I would perhaps have had influence over Ruslan I would not have been reigning as his co-ruler,” Sasha replied. 

“Perhaps not, but you would have still had that influence you mentioned. As for the balance of power, power comes and goes, waxes and wanes. Two-thousand years ago, we had a weak King, and the Vanadis rose to prominence. Leitmeritz and Legnica were allowed to grow into cities for the first time. Two hundred years ago, it was the opposite, the Vanadis of the time were not needed as it was a time of peace, thanks to a great plague spreading throughout the continent making everyone far too busy to make war.”

“And now, we have a… decent king. Not a great king, but a decent one,” Valentina trailed off, her voice becoming lower, so much so that Sasha had to strain to hear her. “A paranoid one, one who has never truly liked the Vanadis or our positions of power as they come from what we become, rather than any preexisting status.”

Sasha stiffened, and Valentina smiled, waving her look away. She had hinted at more there, not only in terms of Sasha’s poisoning but Ruslan's. “Mah, don’t worry, I won’t do anything. What would be the point?”

Sasha ground her teeth, looking away. “Just so long as no hint of it gets out, I do not… understand that…” she paused again changing how she was going to say what came next. “Regardless of how well you could reign or why you wish to be queen, I would say that the most dangerous thing for our entire country would be for us to cause a civil war between the Vanadis and the king. I refuse to let that happen, whatever my… suspicions.”

“That is the last thing I want as well,” Valentina said honestly. “I would much prefer a peaceful transition of power.” After all, I not only want to be queen but conquer other countries too.

Sasha stared at her for a time but saw nothing in Valentina’s face or eyes that she was lying. “And what will you do about Valery?”

“Nothing. Valery is too young to choose a regent for himself and with the Mouzinel and Asvarre as strong as they are, a mere Regent would find his powers too limited. This will leave me to deal with several other issues of course, such as support for my own position, removing any other claimants, of which there are a few, and of course doing so without anyone knowing it was me. Just like any other lord would.” 

A regent could rule the country for an heir who was close to his age of majority. Yet they could not call the nobles to war. They could not declare a trade embargo, or change policies, only keep existing policies going. With Valery’s being only ten, eight years was far too long for anyone who was able to understand the shifting tides to want to chance a regent ruling Zhcted. This meant that if she wanted to be queen, Valentina would have to deal with the two men who were in a position to be named the king's successors, but the very fact one hadn't been chosen yet showed there was room to maneuver there.

Sasha scowled, looking away again before nodding reluctantly. She would normally have been against what Valentina was proposing, most particularly the fact she basically implied she would be using underhanded means to secure her throne. 

But that was before Sasha herself was poisoned. That was before Valentina hinted at one of the very thoughts that had been plaguing Sasha’s mind since her recovery: that perhaps she hadn’t been the only one poisoned, perhaps Ruslan had been killed in the same manner. If there really was already a cabal acting behind the scenes, then a queen who could beat them at their own game and claim the crown as her prize was perhaps the best thing for their nation. If this cabal was so blinded by their own goals as to weaken Zhcted by killing Ruslan and myself, who knows what else they have done, or what their final goal could be.

“Very well. I won’t join you, I lack the means to do so in that shadow world. But I won’t attack you either. I will retain my position here in Legnica and deal with any threats from the ocean. But anyone who threatens my city or my nation from any direction I will burn them to ash!” she said, and Bargren flared into life at her sides, flying into her hands. When she laid them down on the table which began to sizzle at the touch, while Sasha leaned forward, her eyes staring daggers into Valentina. “My city,” she repeated, “my nation. If they are threatened, I will act. Am I clear?”

Valentina’s licked suddenly very dry lips but did not remove her hands from where they were around her teacup and she did not look away. Most decidedly she did not even think about reaching for her own Viralt. She couldn’t show weakness or the fact that she was actually quite frightened at the moment but neither would she looked away. “That is more than acceptable. Indeed,” she said with a smile that was actually quite unforced. “It is always good to know that our back will be guarded by such as you.” Sasha hesitated, then leaned back, and Bargren extinguished themselves.

Then Valentina asked, “But you won’t get in my way when I approach this Ranma character? Or Elen and Tigre?”

“Elen probably won’t want anything to do with underhanded schemes. She’s never understood politics or backroom deals. I rather think Ranma will be the same, but no, I won’t get in your way. So long as you don’t act against them anyway. If they need my help to deal with you at that point, I will give it to them.”

“I won’t act against them unless they act against me first,” Valentina replied calmly. “I cannot personally see that happening.”

Sasha looked at her searchingly once more, her eyes narrowed but then she nodded again. “I believe we have an accord.” She reached for the teapot holding it out towards Valentina. “More tea?”

OOOOOOO

“My lord, scouts have just sent a messenger from upriver north and to the east. They report a large, well-equipped and armed body of men moving along the rivers up towards Territoire.”

Frowning, Tigre nodded, getting to his feet quickly. He looked around at the refugees, then looked over to the man he had chosen as this group’s leader. That man was grim-faced, and Tigre nodded. “I’m afraid Martin but you’re going to have to get your men and women moving again. I’m sorry, I thought you might’ve had more time to recover, but if this force is trying to cross the rivers northeast of here, they might be able to cut us off Territoire so you’re going to have to go somewhere else. Follow the river for a few days west, then cut North toward Aude. You’ll probably meet a few of our scouts along the river, and they’ll help direct you.”

The man nodded, looking afraid, while Tigre stood up brusquely, moving away to find Elen. The two of them had been moving with this group of refugees for a few hours, basically making certain they all knew that they were safe, and they could eventually find both refuge supplies and work here until they might be able to return to their old lives if they ever could. Most of these men and women were, surprisingly, refugees twice over. They had retreated from around the Dinant Plains after the Brune army had been smashed and the pieces had basically taken to mass banditry to return to their lords. Then they had barely begun to try to settle in new jobs down towards Lutetia when the conflict between him and Thenardier went from cold to hot. They had been the first from that area to start fleeing, but a lack of resources had also made them slower than many others. He found Elen and a few of her men, staring down at the detailed map that Ranma had given them, as well as the newest members of their group, the captain of the reinforced company of pikemen. He was sitting down, resting his legs, but he was still wearing the chest plate of the pikemen and his massive weapon was leaning against a tree nearby. Twice as tall as a man, with a heavy bill hook for him, it was a disturbing weapon to look at, more disturbing to know that he was but one of several hundred, and that the men who were trained with it worked as a true, organized unit of men rather than a collection of individuals.

The man’s name was Odell. He had fair skin, black hair, and dark black eyes. He had proven himself to be both intelligent and a good leader since he and his men had shown up four days ago. And right now, he was doing what only the smartest would think of doing when they were the newest member of a command team: staying silent and listening, taking everything in. He was the first to spot Tigre and straightened up, a cough and a jerk of the chin grabbing the other’s attention.

Elan looked up at Tigre, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

Tigre told her about the message, and she scowled. “North, and east? Are they going to strike at Territoire or us at Eagle Tower?”

“If they had any sense of Territoire but I don’t know. We’ll have to get scouts out, along that area of the river. We’ve been careful not to move it into that area, since its dominated mostly by Knightly Orders, all of whom have professed their neutrality between the two Dukes, but we need to make certain.”

“Does that mean you’ll go out with the scouts on your own?”

“I’m afraid it must.” Tigre replied apologetically.

Elen scowled, but she couldn’t argue. Tigre was an incredibly good scout, able to blend into any kind of natural environment like an animal himself almost. Even with all the training that Ranma had given the other men and women of Alsace, he was still better than them. “Fine, but make sure that you protect yourself okay?”

Tigre nodded, and turned, but Elen grabbed his arm, pulling him back and kissing him on the cheek. She then pulled back, a ferocious blush on her face, matching the one on Tigre’s face now. “For luck,” she explained, before turning away, ignoring the knowing looks and smirks on the men around her.

The next day found Tigre and Claus and Gaston, Tigre’s two best scouts staring out of a bit of scrub brush onto the small army that was moving across the forest towards them.

“Three thousand at a bare minimum, at least two thousand heavy horse and a thousand light,” Tigre murmured, his mouth barely moving.

“Three thousand four hundred, Lord,” Gaston said frowning. As usual he had climbed up a tree, trusting in his ability to stay hidden. Tigre wasn’t so sure he would be able to remain unseen up a tree this time of year given his red hair, so he had hidden in a pine bush. “There is at least four-hundred infantry behind the cavalry, I can’t make out what they’re carrying. I think they could be archers, but if so that’s the most well maintained and organized group of archers I’ve ever seen.”

As Tigre well knew, archers of any sort were disdained by Brune nobility of any stripe. Those who had them in their army, men who were solely archers, treated them abysmally. They were in fact treated worse than Ganelon treated his conscripted soldiers and that was saying something. “Regardless it’s not a good sign. It’s got to be some kind of Knightly Order with that kind of makeup. Darn it, I was hoping all of them would extend their neutrality to include waring on us, but I suppose that was wishful thinking,” Tigre mused. “Can we see…”

Tigre was interrupted by Claus hissing and pointing. The redheaded hunter turned, staring in the same direction only for his own face to tighten noticeably. “Is that the symbol for the Order I think it is?”

“If you think that’s the sign of Navarre Knights, the Knightly Order lead by Roland, then yes my Lord,” Claus replied, scowling. "They must have gone down south then east before coming back up north to bugger our asses good."

“Well, that’s not good,” Tigre said mildly, although he was very very worried right now.

Barley a few hours later, the three of them had rejoined the main force coming out of Eagle’s Nest. They had pushed out as far and as fast as they could, with remounts for the trio of scouts hidden in the woods well back of their hide.

“Roland? I’ve heard of him. Isn’t he supposed to be Brune’s strongest Knight?” Elen asked.

Tigre nodded. “Yes, he is. Of course, I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard of him. His deeds are legendary.”

Elen frowned. “Well, if push comes to shove, I can fight him I suppose. It’ll be interesting to see how he stands up against a Vanadis. But his army is the main problem.”

“Exactly. We can’t let that much cavalry get into our Territoire even if they won’t target the refugees, which I’m pretty certain they won’t, Roland is known for many things, but cruelty certainly isn’t one of them, certainly not against Brunish citizens. But he could destroy our supply lines, maybe even take Territoire, and without Territoire, we’d have to pull back, and we lose our nice little border.”

“Is there any way we can drag them into a fight at Eagle Tower?”

“That was my thought too. We just have to hope that Roland isn’t cool-headed enough to ignore our provoking him, and the chance to take my head too. In that though, his concept of chivalry and possibly his desire to return to the border with Sachstein will work for us.” Tigre outlined a brief plan, both to bring in the heavy cavalry and to make them fight a set-piece the battle, here around the tower.

“But we’ll need to get our sappers past them, and that’s not going to be very easy either with how their mounted scouts have been spreading out.”

“And if he doesn’t take the bait?” Elen asked. “Or comes on so strong we can’t get back to the tower before he catches us?”

“Ahh, but we have a Vanadis,” Tigre said teasingly. “I’m certain between us, you and I will be able to grab Roland’s attention.”

She chuckled at that but nodded anyway.

Later that day, Tigre left once more, seemingly tireless, showing an endurance Elen was frankly amazed by. It was evident that not just his people but Tigre himself had benefited greatly from Ranma’s training. With him went four hundred of her light cavalry and their hoarded horse archers. There were more than three hundred and twenty of those now, Rurick having been busy training them up to the point where they could fire in the saddle since they had left him behind in Territoire at first. They weren’t very fast, or very good just yet, but any arrows from a cavalry force would come as a surprise, since they had yet to use them in battle.

OOOOOOO

“Lord Roland, we have incoming horsemen!” shouted one of the new his light cavalrymen, cantering up to the man. “Six hundred maybe more, coming toward us at a good clip.”

Roland frowned. The smart thing for Tigre to have done would have been to fort up in Eagle Tower, and then reinforce Territoire. Territoire was the more important strategic target, his logistical hub here near central Brune. But it wasn’t nearly as defensible as the tower, but thanks to the vagaries of weather and land, Roland had to come closer to Eagle Tower than he would’ve liked to get across the rivers separating the lands there.

He had wanted to cross the rivers at one of the large dams, which were called The King’s Fingers. Instead, he was forced to go well downriver thanks to how swollen the river was at this time of year. And, the roads are pathetic in this area! By the goddess Mosha, what have the local lords been doing when they should have spent money on their upkeep!? Worse than the maps warned me by far. Roland was used to the roads around the borders, and the King’s Road which lead from the borders to Nice. All of the roads near the borders were cobbled, with large thoroughfares on either side for horses and were kept clear and in good repair year-round by the Royal Road Service. This was why the forces on the border could always make good use of having interior lines of movement against Sachstein and even Zhcted by the Dinant Plains. Even the roads around the passage to Mouzinel in the east, which lead through the almost impassable mountains, were paved up until the start of the incredibly dry, rocky mountains.

The rest of the roads in Brune, however, were not nearly as good. Indeed, most were so bad they more resembled the paths of animals through a forest. And even near the center of Brune, there were many roads that at this time of year were more mud than solid earth. Despite having nearly as many horses as he did men, those roads had slowed him down tremendously, and between that and the two fords above the King’s Fingers being washed out, he had been forced downriver towards Eagle’s Tower.

Still, if he doesn’t know our numbers, pushing out a force of cavalry on a spoiling action makes some sense. Vorn might’ve heard reports about an armed band coming towards them, but not our composition. “Regardless,” he said aloud, “we are going to run them down. Pull back the light cavalry. Turner, form up the heavy calvary for a stuttered charge.” A stuttered charge was the Brunish term for a charge, which was broken into parts. Each company of cavalry would smash into and through the enemy before peeling off, hitting the enemy one after another with enough time between blows to shift the point of contact. In a battle between heavy and light cavalry with surprise on the side of the heavier horse, the move could shatter the enemy’s cohesion.

He turned to another man, smaller, without any armor on him, but with heavy, thick shoulders. “Arden, get your men back. We don’t want any of you unnecessary casualties.”

“Of course, Lord Roland,” the man said, saluting crisply. His men might not be regulars, but they were still soldiers and they had been trained to an incredible degree by Lord Roland upon his assumption of command of his Knights of Navarre being stationed at the borders. Roland had, in a sharp change of policy from other nobles, understood the importance of logistics, thus his creation of the Siege Craft unit, which did a lot more than just siege craft for his order.

Ahead of his column, the enemy soldiers came on, spreading out and even slowing as they did. Which was foolish, Roland thought, moving to the front of his own line as it compressed, marching order replaced by the tighter, organized lines of a charge. They don’t have the numbers to envelop us and they all look to be light cavalry. Realizing the error of taking on heavy cavalry in close they should’ve tried to concentrate, to break through his line at one point, and keep on going as fast as they could before we could finish organizing to receive them. Unless they think they can still take us by surprise, but that would be criminally stupid.

But then, the enemy pulled up right outside charging range, and then arrows were flying. Roland’s eyes widened as three men in vanguard dropped from their saddles, and arrows began to hammer into his men. “Mounted archers!”

“Dishonorable dogs!” shouted one of his men, galloping forward even before Roland could give the order.

“Wait!” he barked, but too late. The man fell out of the saddle, an arrow through his helmet’s eye slit.

One of the archers was firing almost too fast for Roland to watch his hands fly, whereas the others were slower. But all of them were firing and wheeling away, firing again as his men charged forward, keeping the range open, never allowing his men to close. Behind one man with red hair and another with a bald head, they weren’t causing many deaths just yet, but it was obvious they could keep this up all day if need be. 

“Sound the recall! Heavy cavalry only. Light Calvary to take over the pursuit but spread and hold in line!” Roland shouted kneading his own horse into a run. His stallion was of a special breed, worth any five of the other chargers in his Order combined and had the endurance to match. He could keep up with his own light cavalry forces as they ran this force into the ground.

Or so he thought. But Roland had never faced this kind of tactic before and neglected to think about how much extra distance the ability to fire from the saddle would give these their enemies. Even in comparison to his light cavalry, the mounted archers were lighter and faster. They disappeared into the woodlands seconds before his men could finally get in among them, the woodlands proceeding to break up his own men’s lines, as the archers turned in their saddle. 

They didn’t fire as quickly anymore, but they fired very accurately. And one among them was a true monster with a bow, Roland raised his shield up, blocking an arrow that would’ve struck him in the face, and then thrust forward quickly with his sword to deflect another that would’ve taken his horse in the head. He glared across him towards the enemies in the woods, shouting out “You are only delaying the inevitable Earl Vorn!”

“I am only delaying you from making a mistake Lord Roland!” came the shouted response, though the other man was smart enough not to actually show himself as he replied. “Did you actually get your orders from the King himself? And if not, how can you be so certain that what you are doing is just!”

“This coming from a man who allied himself with our enemies!” Roland roared in reply.

The response came quick, easy and without a hint of trying to downplay the actions Roland had just referred to. “To protect the people of Alsace from wrongful subjugation I would’ve allied with the devil himself.”

Roland roared and kneed his horse into motion once more racing deeper into the woods with his men following after him.

He then felt it, a buildup of magic. One of the abilities Durandal gave him was to sense when other people were using magic nearby, and he scowled, pulling his sword blade out and flashing it forwards across his horse's withers as he shouted out, “For Brune!” From his sword, a blast of piercing yellow magical energy flashed out like the blade of a giant, intercepting the attack launched at him from nearby.

The air attack slammed into his attack, which sliced it in two before continuing to cut into the woods all around where the air attack had originated from. It sliced several of the horse archers in twain, along with dozens of trees all around them. This destroyed much of the cover sheltering a dozen others, and his men rode down the horse archers who were thus revealed and couldn’t get away.

But they did not slay the woman with silver hair, who had pulled her horse aside ducking under the attack with a speed that was remarkable. She slew two of his men who came close with a single blow each before pulling back into the woods.

Vorn hadn’t been near his target, and arrows flew again, taking out men on either side of Roland and then aimed at Roland himself. He barely got his sword up in time to block them this time and noted that they hit the same place on his shield that the previous arrows had. “How did he do that!?”

Ignoring that mystery Roland smashed his shield against a nearby tree to rid it of the arrows, as he cantered on through the trees.

They were soon through the woods, and out the other side of the little copse of trees, staring as the enemy horse archers put their stirrups to their horses’ side, racing on towards what Roland new would be Eagle Tower. “Dammit.” Roland had to smile thinly. “Well, this skirmish goes to you, but you are a rabbit in a copse of trees, Lord Vorn. You can hop about as much is like, but once I push you back to your burrow, there’s nothing you’ll be able to do.”

“What were our losses?” he said not even turning around as his second-in-command rode up behind him. He had taken command of the horse heavy cavalry when Roland charged forward with the ease of long experience.

“Not very many for the number of arrows they shot,” the man replied. “About fifty-four dead, eleven of whom were the heavy horse. We have far more wounded, however, about two hundred and thirty men, more horses. I’ve already ordered them to break off, and for camp to be made. Judging by the map we have, I think we’re far enough away from Eagle tower to make any attack on a basecamp here untenable. We seem to have slain at least seventeen of them, maybe more.”

As a professional military force, Roland’s knightly order knew how to set a camp: with a short palisade, a row of stakes outside that, and a ditch along with it. The camp would be safe from any such attacks. But their army on the move was a different matter. “I think so as well. Curse it, we should have better maps of our own lands than this, we shouldn’t have to have come this close to Eagle Tower in order to pass the rivers!” It was a noble’s prerogative to map his own lands or not, and like so many other rights, the nobles guarded it covetously even if they themselves did not map their lands. He knew that Thenardier had well-made maps of his own area, and he Ganelon did as well. Unless he didn’t because then someone would be able to know how he treats his people… Roland broke that all thought off, shaking his head “I’m a knight, he muttered to himself. “My duty is not to cast judgment or aspersions on our noble Lords. Mine is just to obey my orders.”

“The King’s orders, not those of his ministers,” his second said softly.

Roland glared at them but knowing no one else was within hearing range let him get away with the blatant disrespect. “You saw her, the Vanadis. The same one who killed our Prince.”

The blonde man shrugged but didn’t gainsay that. It was true after all. Wasn’t it? Roland scowled, shaking his head of these doubts.

When men met on the battlefield some of them could gain insight into their opponent. Since he was but a young teen, newly given the Durandal, Roland had known his ability in that area to be higher than most. It was why he trusted Duke Thenardier to do what not only what was best for do Thenardier, but for the nation when it came to their foreign enemies. It was why he had loved the King so, having seen the innate goodness in the man after sparring with him.

And though Roland had never faced an archer like Tigre, the man’s abilities, how ferociously he thought, spoke to Roland. There was no treason in that man, a part of Roland whispered, but he silenced it, turning away. “Come. We will set up the camp, and then…” he frowned thinking, “and then I think we’re going to change up our order of march and pick up the speed. As well as change the target, curse it. We can’t let those Horse Archers attack us with impunity and we can’t split our forces either.”

“Push the light cavalry out more?”

“No. They’ll be picked off if we do that, and besides we don’t need them as scouts before us, our route is set. Instead, spread the light cavalry out to our flanks, so we aren’t surprised by any attacks. Especially towards the river understood?”

“Not really, but I’ll follow your orders.”

Roland barked a laugh at that but continued to give out orders as more men joined them before racing off. “The heavy cavalry will form the center of the formation. Rotate the men through the front line, the horses at the front will wear full barding, and the men use well the heaviest shields we have. Against Vorn I don’t know if even that will be enough, but hopefully, it will. At the very least will keep our casualties low until they are forced completely onto the defensive at Eagle’s Tower.”

Elsewhere in that same copse of woods, four of Tigre’s scouts were hiding about as desperately as men who knew their lives depended on it could. They had been dropped off the instant the light cavalry had entered the woods, their horses pulled away by their fellows. Now those woods were being combed by extremely competent, well-led soldiers and the scouts were learning that facing true professionals was a very different story from the mix of men-at-arms and peasant levies they’d faced previously.

Yet they had chosen their spots well: deep in the bowels of a hollowed-out tree, up in a lightning-damaged tree, in a sudden ditch in the land that looked as if some animal had created a borrow there, and finally, under a massive amount of mud near the river. Because of this, all four men, Gaston, Claus, and two other men of Alsace were still there as Roland and Knights of Navarre marched on.

They waited until deep night before finally revealing themselves, moving out of the woods altogether, signaling one another with hand signals until they were close enough to have a whispered conversation, “Well, that was about as nervous making as it anything could be wasn’t it?” Claus asked rhetorically. He had been put in charge by Lord Tigre, and he aimed to make his Lord proud.

“Truth. Why did we volunteer for this again?”

“Don’t remember volunteering,” said one of the others grunting. “Remember being volunteered by a certain someone.”

Claus shrugged. “If I have to do this, I want the best scouts with me. That’s you three. Besides, don’t look at me like that, haven’t you always wanted to destroy something big and expensive?”

The blacksmith’s son smirked suddenly. “There is that to be sure. But I do reckon that living through the experience would make it even better. So let’s be moving on, yeah?”

OOOOOOO

Not knowing how the fortunes of the Silver Meteor Army had changed, Lim, Sofy, and Ranma took their time traveling back to the Eleanor is Estates. At first, that was because Ranma’s reaction to being teleported was everything that Sofy could imagine…

Flashback:

What do you mean we’re going to teleport?” Ranma asked with a scowl.

“I mean just what I said. We will disappear from where we are now and reappear elsewhere. It is one of the spells that my Viralt allows me.”

Ranma gulped. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. But what exactly does that mean ‘teleport’? Does that mean just fly through the air really quickly or does it mean actually you know our bodies and molecules coming apart and appearing elsewhere, because let me tell you, I always thought that was kind of freaky when I saw it in sci-fi movies.”

“I don’t know what a movie is, skify, or molekul,” Sofy replied with a giggle, leaning her head against the side of her prayer staff. “But it is a magical thing. I simply disappear from here and reappear as far in the direction I am facing as I wish.”

“…Okay,” Ranma said holding his head for a moment. “Okay, magic, right, fine, we’ll just assume that because it is magic that it makes sense suddenly and nothing bad can happen.”

“You’re taking this rather more poorly than I expected,” Lim interjected, looking at Ranma quizzically.

“Yeah well, I didn’t do so well in class, but I knew enough science to know what was really going on with those Star Trek teleporter things.”

“Again, you’re using words we don’t understand,” Lim said, smacking him upside the head very lightly. Of course, even if she smacked him upside the head hard, Ranma probably wouldn’t have even noticed. But she didn’t want to give the impression she was actually angry at him. To add to this lack of impression, she began to rub at his neck, causing him to slowly close his eyes and murmur, “Oh, that feels good.”

Lim smiled, a faint blush on her face as she asked, “Now are you calm enough to try this?”

“I suppose,” Ranma muttered still looking disturbed, but much calmer.

“Ara, that’s good! EY!” Before Ranma could turn, Sofy had playfully pushed Ranma into Lim with a hand to his back as she reached out to touch Lim with the end of her prayer staff. "Mirashem!" (“Particles of Light, Come to My Side!”)

In a blinding flash of light, the three of them disappeared from there only to reappear twenty-five leagues down the road. The instant the spell faded, Ranma reeled away to become sick in the bushes nearby.

Lim stumbled back, shaking her head woozily. “That was an unnerving sensation, but I think Ranma is taking this far worse than me.”

“You get used to it, eventually,” Sofy replied smiling pleasantly at Lim over the sounds of Ranma being sick in the woods.

End flashback

Of course, Ranma had some surprises for Sofy too, as she learned the first evening on the road.

“We’re not going to stop at an inn Lim?” Sofy asked, quizzically as the other two kept going past an inn. True, there it was only a little past midday, but there wasn’t going to be another hostel they could stay at until well into the night. And traveling at night was not something Sofy did unless she was in a massive hurry.

“Don’t worry, trust me, you’ll like camping out with Ranma.”

“I doubt that, considering that he isn’t able to provide warm water. Unless that’s part of his curse, he can just create it out of thin air?” Sofy asked, pouting. She was a woman who greatly liked her creature comforts, and that included hot baths as often as she could get them.

“Actually, he can, in a way,” Lim laughed. “You’ll just have to see.”

Sofy fell behind the others as she continued to grumble, but later that evening found the two of them on a ridge overlooking a very tiny pool, which fed into a small stream. “That looks nice, but also quite cold.”

Lim, however, was already moving over into the woods to undress, her armor laid out nearby, her sword still in her hand even here. “Watch,” she ordered over her shoulder.

Shrugging, Sofy did so and watched as a blast of cerulean energy flashed out from Ranma’s hand into the pool. Two more followed, and as the third hit, the water began to steam. “Oh my! Instant hot spring!” giggling, Sofy moved over, clasping one arm around Ranma’s. He turned to look at her, blushing at the contact as she addressed, “Lim, could I borrow him for a bit?”

“I’m uncertain what you mean,” Lim said, frowning.

“Hehehe, I just want to borrow him for a bit,” Sofy said not going into detail about what she meant by ‘borrow.’ “You’ll get him back clean as new, possibly.”

Ranma flushed under her very direct and interested gaze no more than a foot away, backing away two paces, and blushing hotly while Lim scowled. For a moment, her interest in Ranma and her somewhat tough girl exterior warred with one another, and by the time she had, they had finished their quarrel, she had finished changing into her bath towel, with which she marched out, pointing regally at Ranma. “You, off.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ranma said not arguing about the whole assumed ownership of the hot spring thing, grateful to get away from Sofy’s eyes.

Sofy pouted, shaking her head. “That’s no fun. I thought Ranma and I could bath together again.”

“That would be most improper and… wait, what do you mean ‘again’?” Lim asked, and after that Ranma was thankfully out of earshot.

Whatever Sofy said however had not angered Lim overmuch towards him. Ranma had earned himself a slap upside the head, but again, it was a very gentle one.

And so the journey of the two blondes and Ranma continued. They stopped and saw the sights, they talked almost constantly as Sofy set the pace, deliberately slowing down in order to get to know Ranma more. In turn, Lim learned more about Zhcted politics at the highest level and Ranma got to know Sofy as well as he had gotten to know Lim on the trip out.

Yet, even so, the total round-trip took only about five days, at least to reach the outer edge of Eleanora’s territory. From there, they slowed down even more because Sofy wanted to take a brief trip to the town in Elen’s territory famous for its hot springs. She was about as addicted to hot springs as she was to tea, and since it got colder with every day they stayed on road, Ranma had no trouble agreeing with the idea. He could deal with the cold easily, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

While Lim would have argued with Elen, she was not about to argue with another Vanadis, especially one senior to Eleanora. So they made a brief stopover and stayed there for a few days as it had begun to snow as they had reached the town. From there, they sent word to Leitmeritz of course, using a series of messenger pigeons that Eleanora had set up in her time in her towns and villages in order to send word quickly.

Ranma did not get into the Hot Springs with Sofy despite her continued offers. Instead, he had to spend time in the men’s only section.

Today he was leaning against the wall the two baths shared, listening to Lim and Sofy as Sofy teased Lim relentlessly, about her body, about Ranma and her relationship if that was what it was, and about Sofy wanting to borrow him, as well as jokes about Eleanora. Those at least Lim enjoyed and gave as good as she got.

In fact, Ranma reflected that if Elen ever learned how much Lim had shared about her thanks to the nice Hot Springs and copious amounts of alcohol bought for her by Sofy, Elen would probably be almost embarrassed enough to die. Hmm, might keep those in reserve just in case Elen goes back on our agreement and she doesn’t let me off the hook on the whole parole thing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a call from the changing area. “Erm, sir Ranma, there’s a message here from Lady Titta…”

Not two hours later Ranma was leading a very drunk Lim tied to her saddles as he, Sofy and Lim raced on towards Leitmeritz. There they found one of Elen’s captains there running the city in her absence, while a group of scribes saw to what bits of logistics had to be seen to here for the Silver Meteor Army. Hearing that and seeing how many of her lady’s men were within the city, made Lim somewhat furious until Sofy calmed her down, saying that had been ordered by the king. Knowing what she had learned over the past few days about politics, she had to nod her head in acquiescence but was also determined to send what help they could. Surely another company of cavalry wouldn’t be enough to make this…

Lim’s thoughts ground to a halt at that, and she turned to stare at Titta and the two men ruling in place of her lady. “Wait, what was the name of this army Lady Eleonora and Earl Vorn are leading?”

“The Silver Meteor Army,” Titta replied, while both men looked a little dyspeptic at how over the top it was.

“What…my lady,” Lim groaned. “UGH.”

“Hehehe, I rather like it,” Sofy giggled. “It’s a bit over the top perhaps, but it gives the impression of strength and beauty too.” “Right, whatever, setting aside the name Titta, what do you mean they’re having trouble?” Ranma asked, his arms crossed as he stared across the table at Titta.

She waved her hands wildly before squeezing them together looking between Ranma, Lim, and Sofy, her face extremely worried. “They’re having trouble that’s all I know. Lord Tigre hasn’t let me come forward to serve him in the field, but we’ve been getting rumors of late here. According to the last men that came through on rotation the Great Knight Roland has been ordered to put down our rebellion. But were not rebelling, only fighting against the two Dukes!” she wailed. “I don’t understand, why would king Faron…”

“It probably wasn’t Faron,” Sofy said shaking her head sadly. “That’s part of why I am heading to Nice, remember? No one has seen Faron personally in more than two and half months and I am to discover if there is any truth to the rumors of his passing.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like this Faron guy was doing all that good a job as king as it was. Or else Lord dragon-shit and Lord Pervo wouldn’t have been able to grow as powerful as they did. Or at least their policies wouldn’t have spread as far as they did. Frankly, I have to wonder if Faron was dead even before his son was killed at the Battle of the Dinant Plains.”

“That is true, but he was still respected at that point. But since the news of Regnas’ death reached Nice he has not been seen for more than a few hours. And even that ended about a month ago. No one but his chief minister and perhaps the two dukes themselves have seen him. So my king wanted me to find out the truth before deciding on what to do in regards to backing Tigre and Elen more than just agreeing to let Elen work with him.”

Ranma growled irritably, annoyed as he remembered the talk among the nobles in the army camp on the plains, how envious they were of the two dukes, and wanted to follow them. But he said nothing on that score, at this point with these girls there would be no point. “Who is this Roland character?” he asked instead.

“The greatest Knight in Brune, a warrior whose strength and abilities put even most Vanadis to shame,” Titta replied her tone somewhere between worried, awed and respectful.

“That is still supposition. What is known for certain is that he and five thousand men have kept an entire border of Brune free of incursions from Sachstein to the west and even Asvarre on the western-most peninsula. In fact, recently he destroyed an army of seventeen thousand men in barely two weeks,” Sofy said with a faint frown. “Although if he is facing Elen we might learn soon enough how he really fares against a Vanadis.”

Ranma shook his head. “Okay, so that just means we have to get there fast. How many times can you teleport?” he asked looking over at Sofy.

“Four times a day, I can cross twenty-five leagues maximum four times a day. That won’t even get us to the Dinant Planes for three days. And teleporting that far that often puts me on my back.”

Ranma frowned thinking hard. “I think I can run something like a hundred and twenty leagues a day if I push. Not certain, though I’ll for sure need a lot of food at the end. And carrying you won’t slow me down at all, although two people would.” Ranma had never actually measured how far he could sprint in a day, but he was willing to try. He turned to Lim, still frowning but not for the same reason. “Um, Lim, I’m sorry, but…”

“But at the pace are going to set matter how many horses I took, I wouldn’t keep up with you, I know,” Lim said with a sigh. “Besides, with Lady Elen gone for so long, it falls on me to rule Leitmeritz. Besides at the front, I would just be one more sword and one more sub-commander.”

“Yeah, but a pretty damn good subcommander miss flank attack,” Ranma teased and praised in one breath. At that Lim smiled almost tenderly at Ranma, a sight that caused Sofy to bite back a giggle and Titta’s eyes to widen. “Thank you, but that doesn’t change facts as they are right now. Go on Ranma. I will help Lady Eleanora and Lord Tigrevurmud as best I can here, then come forward during the winter with as much winter supplies as I can. You go and help them your way.”

Ranma smiled back at her and, feeling greatly daring, pulled Lim into a hug. “See you soon,” he murmured into her hair, while she turned a red hitherto unknown to womankind. Then he pulled back, gave her a wink, and was reaching out to a now openly chortling Sofy. She took his hand, and in a flash of light they were gone, while Lim was still gaping like a red-faced fish. 

She turned a glare on the giggling Titta and growled out, “NOT ONE WORD.” Before marching off in a huff, promising to introduce her sword to Ranma’s head the next time she saw him. The least he could do is have waited until we were alone to hug me like that. The realization that she wanted Ranma to hug her put a smile on her face.

later that day, Sofy collapsed, only to be caught by Ranma. They had left the horses behind in Leitmeritz, then Sofy had teleported them twice. They had rested after that, while Ranma hunted up a bit of food to supplement the supplies they had been given in Leitmeritz. After that Lim had teleported them again, only to nearly collapse to her knees after the fourth time. “Oh my, that was rather harder than I thought it would be. I wonder if…”

“If? Well, I’ve noticed over the past few days traveling with you that teleporting you and Lim with me was much harder than I was used to. But it wasn’t the first time I’ve teleported two people at once. That is strange. Maybe… well, the Viralt are always wielded by Vanadis after all, so maybe my teleportation spell doesn’t work as well on men, and I have to overpower it?” Sofy asked, pushing sweaty hair out of her eyes, her chest heaving from her exertions.

The sight nearly made Ranma lose control of his third leg, but he looked away, and, thinking quickly said, “Well, um, would my changing into my female form help?”

“Yes, it probably would,” Sofy replied, before smirking as she noticed Ranma looking away. She stretched then, making a loud groaning noise, and Ranma’s eyes twitched back to her, specifically her chest, where her hair was bouncing off her abundant curves. Hehehe, yep, I’m getting through to him, I think. Although, is it my chest, or my hair that attracts his attention? Putting that question to the side, she went on. “I think however it’s your turn to make good your boast.”

“Heh, fine by me.” With that, Ranma knelt down, his back to Sofy. “Hop on.” A second later Ranma’s blush came back with reinforcements, as Sofy’s large chest pressed into his back. “Gababbaa….”

“Hmm, did you say something?” Sofy asked, her tone teasing as she whispered into his ear.

“Grrr…” Fed up by Sofy’s teasing, Ranma hopped to his feet so fast that Sofy nearly lost her grip around his shoulders. “You better hang on Sofy, because I am gonna fly.” Without another word and barely waiting for Sofy to reclaim her grip – but still blushing as that pressed her large breasts into his back once more – Ranma raced on. Sofy’s whoop of delight brought a smile to his face and the two raced on.

OOOOOOO

Roland scowled as he stared up at the tower through the rain from well out of bow range. They had successfully invested the castle on this side of the river, and he already had his siege crews pushing downriver to put his real plan into motion. Arden and his troops were making a series of boats tying them together and then sinking them, whereupon they would start dumping mud and rocks on them to make a ford. From that, he could start crossing downriver and then strike either at Territoire, Aude, or the Dinant Plains and beyond into Zhcted to raid Leitmeritz. With Tigre and his main forces at Territoire and Eagle’s tower they would be playing catch up to bring him to battle, and he would be the one deciding on when and where, with only the onset of winter being a factor to how long he could string Tigre and the Vanadis along.

The work was already close to finished. And yet, there was something going on. For someone who had created those horse archers, a kind of trooper Roland had never seen, and lead them in four stinging attacks on their march here, along with an attempt to get at his supply train – limited though it was - Vorn was suddenly playing a very conservative game. That made Rowland’s battle instincts tingle. Earl Vorn is planning something. Something…

“My Lord!”

At that shout Roland turned sharply, staring to one side as a messenger reached him. “What is it?”

“The scouts from upriver are coming in, and, my lord they are waving the yellow flag!”

On campaign Roland’s men routinely used differently sized flags to single different messages to one another. It wasn’t a perfect system, and few were actually trained in it just yet, but his unit commanders, men who led teams of twenty, knew it, and would never use a wrong color or be exaggerating. The yellow color was for ‘danger, disaster,’ and he frowned, wondering about that and why they would be reporting in person. They should’ve simply sent a single rider back. About a minute later, Roland was standing in the center of his rather muddy camp as the scout commander skidded to a stop in front of him. “Lord Roland, the man shouted as he fell off his lathered horse. “The river, the rivers are flooding!”

“What? What river!?” He barked, grabbing the man and shaking him. “How are they flooding?”

“I don’t know my Lord, I didn’t go that far upstream, our horses…” The man stammered, “The mud it’s everywhere, we couldn’t make any headway along the riverbed at all. The area between the two rivers is just flooding out.” He looked down at his feet, which Roland, following the gesture, thought with a sinking feeling was a lot muddier today than it had been yesterday,

Roland scowled, thinking about the map, about what could’ve caused this, and his eyes widened. “The dams…” he breathed. “They’ve damaged or destroyed the King’s Fingers! This area is going to be a single river soon!”

“Surely not, that’s…” Olivier fell silent. “I was going to say impossible, but at this time of year…” he whispered.

“Exactly. Normally, there would be no chance that the waters could spread all that much, but this area of Brune is lowland, it’s why this strip is the start of the most fertile area of our nation. If all the rivers around here flooded at the same time… water will seek water, and everything between them will become mud.” “We’ll be stuck here, our horses unable to make any headway, our heavy cavalry useless!” Olivier groaned, shaking his head, a wry smirk on his face. “A bold stroke.” “An insanely bold stroke. If they have actually damaged those dams, this area will never be the same.” Roland replied ruefully, shaking his head. “I’d thought Vorn had suddenly become conservative, all the while he was lulling us into complacency with one hand, while preparing the strike in the other.”

“Still, our scouts noticed in time, and he doesn’t know about the bridge builders.” Roland’s own archers had seen to that after they had finished putting up the camp, scouring everywhere around the river delta, fighting small, vicious battles with Tigre’s scouts, which left ten of them dead and the rest retreating at the cost of twenty-seven of his own. I thought they were fighting harder than irregular scouts should! They were trying to blind us, buy time for this to work.

“Prepare to move the entire army,” he ordered, as his second-in-command wheeled away, already barking orders, while Roland continued to roar out his own, “Four groups, light cavalry with me now! Second heavy cavalry, third, you’ll be the guards for our supply train and will be pulling out directly west trying to get out of the delta. Fourth group, stay here and follow us after a turning of the sun. It will be your task to keep Vorn and the Vanadis’ attention on our camp here.”

As Roland was barking out commands in his camp, he was being observed by Tigre from on top of the Eagle’s Tower. “They’ve discovered the rivers. This is a really marvelous device you know,” he said smiling at over at Elen who had loaned Tigre her spyglass. “How much do they cost?”

“It was a birthday gift from Sasha and I’d imagine quite a bit,” Elen said, grabbing her self-control with both hands as she forcibly dragged Tigre back to the most important thing. “What do you mean they discovered the river?”

“They’re already packing up everything. And I mean everything, we tremendously underestimated how well organized Roland and his Order would be.”

“What are we going to do then?”

Tigre didn’t answer for a moment, studying what the enemy was doing. Already he could see several companies of light cavalry leaving the camp, along with a few dozen men who did not ride their horses nearly as well. The sight bothered him as did the sight of more men of the same type hurrying after the first. “That infantry of Roland’s, they’ve not been a part of any of the attacks we’ve faced, in fact, they haven’t even been near the front of the battles. Do you remember seeing any of them actually doing any fighting?”

Elen shook her head, and Tigre continued to frown. He scanned through the campsite, counting horses and men, and scowling. “And there aren’t a lot of them in the camp any longer. When did that happen?” He turned his attention back to the groups that had already left the camp, watching as they moved downriver rather than just away. 

Concerned turning into crystallized thought, he turned and handed the spyglass over to Elen. “I think they stole a march on us. I think... I think that those infantrymen were simply peasant workers or something of the sort. I think, they’re downriver from us and are creating a crossing somehow even as we speak. Gather your cavalry units and the light archers again, and then get the pikemen moving. We’ll have to use them to block whatever bridgehead they are going to try to create. I just hope we get there in time.”

Thanks to his incredible eyesight and quick decision-making Tigre and Elen’s march paralleled that of Roland’s men. They arrived in time to push the initial light cavalry company back across the river with their horse archers, although this fight forced the horse archers to stay and just pepper their enemies rather than retreat and counter as before. Elen became involved at that point. She smashed aside the Brunish light cavalry, taking control of the makeshift ford, which had been created by tying four riverboats together and partially sinking them into the riverbed.

But then Roland was there. His first blow slaughtered a dozen men, at the head of another group of light cavalry and Tigre’s eyes widened. “Elen! We have to get him away from that bridge! He’ll slaughter our pikemen!”

“Rurick!” Elen shouted, her voice slicing through the din of battle with the ease of long practice. “Take command of the cavalry, pull back and east then around, you and the pike will have to reclaim that bridge! Keep his Holy Order from crossing! Tigre and I will deal with Roland.” She turned to flash a smile at Tigre, but he was already firing. 

Four arrows one after another aimed at both his horse and side flew straight and true, but Roland used Durandal to slice them into pieces with an air attack that, while more diffuse was just as powerful as Elen’s attack. It shattered the incoming arrows and sent forth a shockwave that smashed into men and horse alike, sending them sprawling, if they were lucky. If they weren’t, it set them flying, to crash down with bone-crunching life-ending force or just in pieces already. Still, Tigre had Roland’s attention now, and he turned his horse toward the archer.

Elen urged her horse forward, and the two met sword-to-sword while Tigre moved to the side, waiting for a shot. He shot two arrows, quick as quick, one straight at Roland’s head, the other at his horse again while Roland continued to trade blows with Elen.

If Tigre hadn’t seen it, he would never have believed it was possible. Not even Ranma would have been so negligent dealing with his arrows while at the same time fighting Elen. But Elen was soon smashed from the saddle, sent tumbling to the ground as her horse raced on. She instantly righted herself and brought up her sword, shouting out her attack, “Ley Adimos!”

But Rowland’s sword crashed down through the attack, as he sent forth his own, a bright blast of yellow energy that Elen barely was able to dodge.

Three more arrows fired in quick succession interrupted Rowland’s charge towards Elen, and he turned, charging instead towards Tigre. “That’s right! Though you are a traitor, at least we can die like a nobleman of Brune!” he shouted, blasting apart two more arrows.

Then, he was on Tigre slashing him from the battle, or so he should have. Instead, Tigre had flipped himself up and around his horse, actually belly-riding for a moment, as he fired his bow straight up.

Then they were past one another, and Roland turned, shifting the horse around quickly. But Tigre was already by Elen, grabbing her up into his saddle, and Roland stared past them at the ongoing battle by the ford his men had created. Through great effort and sacrifice, the horse archers and cavalry from Eagle’s Tower had killed or pushed the Navarre Knight’s light cavalry out of the way, and now a solid square of men wielding giant spears had pushed into the gap, killing many of his horse and then turning to present a bristling front towards his heavy cavalry, who were too late. Pike!? Where… somewhere in Zhcted no doubt. Still, pike I can deal with later. If I kill Vorn and the Vanadis now, he could probably get the rest of the men to surrender, not only ending this rebellion, but not creating any atrocities that would have instigated a greater war with Zhcted.

With that thought in mind, he charged forward. Just as Elen leaped out of the saddle to engage him from the ground and let Tigre race on without her, a boot slammed into the side of his head.

OOOOOOO

Ranma arrived at the front at a dead sprint, having dropped Sofy off with a band of refugees, about fifteen leagues back. He had been sprinting as hard as he could since leaving Leitmeritz, a run that would have put any wolf to shame for endurance or any leopard for speed. He only slowed down a little to view the battlefield, whistling as he took it in from the northwest in a large tree on a tiny hill that rose out of a forest several leagues in every direction.

The entire area around the river was a muddy, bloody bog, with the pikemen holding in a formation on one side of the original riverbed. In the river he could barely bake out bits of wood still sticking out of the mud of what must have been a makeshift ford. On that ford, their horses bunched together and now starting to panic were a heap ton of heavy cavalry, but their lances couldn’t reach the pike, and those pikes were reaping a horrible toll, even as they simply stood there, barring the enemy’s path. 

To one side of this battle was an intense cavalry melee between men who were wearing the armor of Leitmeritz and clumps of light cavalry with the colors of Brune on their baldrics, accompanied by another symbol Ranma didn’t recognize. Horse archers, an idea that Tigre had been pushing for when Ranma led out his scouts that first time, were also milling around, far too close to the enemy, but unable to pull away. Still, they were doing their job by making certain the pike didn’t have to split their attention. 

Out of that melee came Tigre, with Elen riding behind him. A second later five men were blasted out of the way of a man with dark black hair, black armor, and a truly massive sword, who raced after the two of them. On the other side of the battle, Elen’s horse continued to run, turning only slowly to come back to its mistress. That was about enough Ranma decided. He raced forward once more. Just as the man dealt with a few more arrows from Tigre, Ranma announced his presence by smashing a foot into the man’s head. To his surprise though the man was barely rocked by the kick and he twisted around faster than most could have followed, bringing his crazy-huge sword down. “And who are you!?”

But Ranma leaped over it, aiming a kick at the man’s face. He ducked backward in his saddle, only being grazed, as he twisted his sword around to slice at Ranma again. “Names Ranma man, you!?” Let it be said Ranma always preferred to know the names of the people trying to cave his head in with a giant slab of metal. As he spoke, Ranma dodged, hammering a blow into the man’s chest. 

It was like hitting the side of a battleship, and the guy only flinched backward before bringing his sword down again in an overhead arc. “I am Roland, Knight of Brune! And you will day for invading our nation!”

Ranma sidestepped, flinging himself up into a roundhouse that the man blocked with one arm, his attempts to grab at Ranma’s leg though missed. Ranma was too fast for them, used the momentum of the block to come around again from the other side, only for the man to raise his sword to block it this time. Ranma pulled back midair, causing the man’s eyes to widen, before Ranma’s hands flashed forward, his ki flashing out in a blast of blue gold power redirecting Roland’s blade backward but doing no real damage.

But Ranma’s next attack caught the man full force, hurling him backward off his horse at last. He slammed through a tree but was rolling even as he did and stood up with a roar lashing out with his sword. The air pressure wave, this attack caused was like being hit by a tornado, picking Ranma up and hurling him through the woodlands, crashing through several trees on his own now.

Even so, Ranma rolled with it, coming up and charging forward just in time to see Elen lashing out at the man with one of her air attacks. He shrugged it off, his blade slicing through it with his sword, and nearly catching Elen on the backswing, but she rolled away, staring in shock at the man.

By that point though Ranma was near enough to throw another punch, and the man stumbled as the punch landed on the back of his head, going to one knee, but grabbing behind him for Ranma, even as he twisted around to bring his massive sword around in swift slash.

Ranma lifted himself up, over the sword, landing on it lightly, wincing as something within the sword stung his feet something fierce, even as he struck out hard.

The man grunted again and again as Ranma’s blows landed, before shouting “Useless!” and tossing Ranma away from his sword, lashing down with the sword a second later. Ranma then pressed his attack, keeping to the air, dodging the man’s blows. But eventually, those blows were coming too fast, creating air pressure all around the man that acted like a shield, blasting Ranma off his feet again, as he roared out once more, “I am Roland, Brune’s greatest Knight!”

“Yeah?” Ranma grunted, rolling as he hit the ground to come back up on his feet, his hands up in front of his face in an attack stance. “As I’ve heard. Funny then that you're attacking someone who’s only been protecting Brune’s peasants from their so-called betters who treat them like shit or enemies to be preyed upon!”

The man scowled, putting his sword on his shoulder and “You are no Brune-man. Why do you care? Why do you fight me here?”

“No, I’m not, I am friends with one though and that’s enough. Ta my mind, that gives me a far better reason to fight than any half-assed reason you might have.” Ranma then raised his voice into a shout get out of here Tigre, Elen! I’ve got this. See to the rest of your Army!”

Elen was about to protest this, when Ranma charged forward again, lashing out with another kick. Roland blocked it with the side of his sword, then went for a chop, but instead of dodging upwards is the man had anticipated, Ranma rolled underneath the attack, coming up and aiming his next punch not towards the man’s body, but towards his upraised wrist. His fingers slammed hard into Roland’s wrist, deadening the man’s hand, and causing him to drop his sword as Ranma lashed out again towards the man’s center, going for power strikes that tore the man’s metal armor apart yet did no damage to the hard form underneath. 

But this slowed Ranma enough so he wasn’t able to dodge the next punch which came in fast and hard, a jab to the face from Roland’s other hand that broke his nose and sent Ranma flying backward. Shit!! I have never been hit that hard before, not even Ryoga or Taro. This guy is insanely tough.

Even so, Ranma rolled lashing out with a kick that caught the sword, sending it spinning away before the man could grab it with the same fist that had just his him. He grumbled, then slammed his own fingers into the same point Ranma had a second ago and instantly feeling returned to his hand. “Interesting trick.”

As Roland was doing this, Ranma reached up to his nose and reset it while his healing ability kicked in, as he grinned impishly at the other man, taking note of his actions. “Heh, I got thousands of tricks dude. But I gotta wonder, how well will you fight without your giant overcompensating toy?”

Roland guffawed, bringing up his own hands, in a boxing stance. He was, despite the fact he knew his Knights of Navarre had probably been forced to retreat by this point, enjoying this fight. “I’ll have you know my sword is proportionate!”

Ranma roared in laughter and then without any warning, both men charged forward. Roland and Ranma traded blows, but almost immediately Roland seemed to realize that without his sword, he wasn’t going to do enough damage to Ranma. His blows hit like sledgehammers going at fifty miles an hour, (Mousse had created a technique once he called Heavenly Cannon, not fun,) but Ranma had dealt with worse pain before and he was far too fast to be hit all that often. 

For every blow that Roland landed, Ranma landed fifty and that was without counting the times his fists seemed to disappear right upon the point of impact, and Roland could feel hundreds of hits that one targeted area. Some of those hits were attempts to get through the man’s quickly deteriorating armor to land pressure point attacks. But the man was so heavily muscled he had to put in a lot of effort to get through to the pressure point, and every time he did, the man would move entirely on the defensive as he released the point. Eventually, the man seemed to be able to discern, which attack was pressure-related and would move so they didn’t hit, just enough to throw off Ranma’s aim.

Still, Ranma would probably have won the exchange eventually just because he could take more punishment if not for the fact Roland was both quick, and nowhere near normal himself. Between one second and the next he slammed a foot down on the ground, he created an earthquake just as Ranma was about to land from a hop over a kick causing the boy to stumble. Another high kick caught Ranma and hurled him to slam into a tree so hard he actually shattered it and the rock behind it. But even then, he rolled with it, coming back in.

Yet unbeknownst to Ranma, Roland had been moving their battle towards where his sword had flown since the get-go. Now he grabbed it up, pointing the tip towards Ranma even as he shrunk it down into its smaller form, the metal of Durandal sliding smoothly as it did so. The youth was just too fast for its true shape. He flung it around in a figure-eight trying to cut Ranma into pieces with one hand, wielding the still heavy blade almost as if it was a rapier while keeping his other arm in close for defense or lightning fast jabs. The two men continued to trade blows, moving across the landscape deeper into the woods that had previously been set to one side of the battle, neither of them pulling their punches any longer. Each dodged attack caused enough air pressure to shatter trees or gauge out huge divots in the ground as they danced and ducked, dodged, weaved and struck.

Ranma was still landing more hits than he was taking, but Roland was hardened well beyond anything Ranma had ever dealt with, even Pantyhose Taro’s Minotaur form. He shrugged off Ranma’s blows even his Amaguriken hits easier than any opponent Ranma had previously faced. Worse, with his weapon now shrunk, Roland’s speed was closer to Ranma’s own, and though the edge of the weapon wasn’t sharp enough to Cat-Ranma, he was still doing a lot of damage with each hit that landed, breaking bones and arms.

Ranma dodged another blow, watching as a wind attack sliced through the trees behind him, slamming a kick into Roland which sent him hurling backward, then he shouted out his own distance attack, "Moko Takabisha Arashi!" launching them from his clenched fists.

The energy spheres were blocked, redirected then dodged, and more trees died before Roland charged forward again, his blade enlarging for just a second to lash out hard at Ranma, but it failed. Ranma had flipped himself up and over the man, bringing a punch crashing down towards Roland’s neck, his ki flaring into his limb to add to his strength.

“You will never defeat Brune!” Roland roared, his sword shrinking back down into its shield configuration, while he raised it up behind him to block the blow. And when Ranma’s blow landed on the shield instead of the back of Roland’s head, he found himself catapulted backward, all the punch’s force returned to him. He found his bones breaking from his fingers on up to his shoulder while he was hurled back like he was just shot out of a cannon.

His flight only ended when he slammed into the muddy side of a hill on the other side of several dozen now shattered and broken trees. “Okay, that was a new trick from you,” he muttered, pushing himself out of the rubble of a tree, grabbing up bits and pieces of it and tossing it at Roland. “Catch!”

Roland stopped, smashing them out of the air, allowing Ranma to get to his feet. With a wicked grin, Ranma grabbed a nearby rock, tore it out of the ground and with both hands above his head tossed it forward. “And I am the Living trebuchet! Eat rock!”

Roland twisted and seemed barely able to block the rock with the flat of his blade to one side. But to Ranma’s surprise, he smashed the rock to pieces. “That’s one hell of a sword. No wonder it's doing so much damage whenever it connects. I hate magic,” Ranma muttered. Ranma then kicked up, into a tree, and then away.

“If you wish to play hide and seek, I will come find you!” Roland shouted. He had completely forgotten about the larger battle, too interested in dealing with Ranma, who he knew now was as great a threat to Brune and the king as any Vanadis. Instead of coming after Ranma though he began to launch massive blades of force everywhere, yellow shaves of magical energy which shredded the forest all around Ranma even as he dodged.

When the boulders started flying back at him along with massive jagged spears of shattered timber, Roland thought that Ranma was becoming desperate. “Just because you’re the living trebuchet does not mean that you’ll be able to take me down so easily!” he shouted, smashing each boulder in turn.

But Ranma had planned for that and closed under rocks and debris that he had thrown and was in Roland’s face. Before Roland could do anything to set himself, he had taken four hundred Amaguriken speed punches to the face and chest, and he felt a tooth come loose under the blow to the face as he staggered backward. Ranma then grabbed his head, and jerked it down into his knee, shouting “Amaguriken Knee Strike!”

Now it was Roland’s nose which shattered, followed by his temple, and he reeled back, blood frothing around a ruined mouth, but he grabbed Ranma by the leg with one hand holding him there, before the younger shorter man could get away. Ranma just barely avoided getting his head chopped off by that sword coming in toward his neck.

He carried the blade off to one side with one hand, lashing out with a punch to Roland’s already fucked up jaw with the other, but Roland simply moved with it, already dealing with the pain of Ranma’s earlier attacks, and still didn’t let go of his grip on Ranma’s leg.

But instead of trying to get free, Ranma kicked off the ground with his other leg and mule-kicked Roland. Roland was strong, very strong, but his grip wasn’t as strong as Ranma’s leg and Roland’s grip came off of Ranma’s leg. Roland flew backward, and Ranma continued to flip himself before landing back on his feet and launching himself forward.

While in midair Roland also rolled, bringing his sword around, but Ranma dodged it with all the proficiency in midair combat. The next blow he landed smashed Roland into the ground, despite Ranma’s best efforts not to, yet Ranma didn’t back away. He slammed several dozen blows into the other man’s back as he tried to get his feet under him, but Roland twisted around even as Ranma struck blocking the blows with his sword, but thankfully in sword formation it lacked the blowback magic that the sword formation had. At the same time, his fist flew forward in a jab so fast Ranma couldn’t dodge. Then it became Ranma’s turn to go flying, his head ringing from the blow.

Roland twisted, grabbed up his sword, and turned around still on his knees shouting, “Soaring Hoof!”

Ranma barely had a second to dodge to the side as the energy wave hit, shredding the ground and several trees that had been behind him. He was then in Roland’s face again, exulting as he finally was breaking through the other man’s durability. Every blow now was telling, and Roland was reeling away, while Ranma continued to dodge nearly every blow he threw in turn.

Roland was good, strong, massively durable, but he wasn’t used to fighting a warrior like Ranma, someone who could dodge his best, someone who could hang with him for this long. His endurance was lacking and Ranma was still going strong.

Ranma dove underneath a blow instead of above it or dodging to the side. He had only done this once before, and Roland had fallen into the dangerous habit of thinking Ranma would leap above attacks if he had any choice rather than dodge blow. And instead of attacking Roland’s main body, Ranma went for Roland’s leg.

One leg of the larger man had been slightly outstretched from the other, just enough to allow him to strike without opening himself up in turn. He grabbed the side of Roland’s knee and hammered a blow into the side of his lower leg at Amaguriken speed, shattering the bone there into so many pieces, Roland roared in pain in fury and Ranma rolled away from the hilt strike that would’ve caved in the back of his head. 

He came up, kicking off the muddy ground, but the mud gave under him just a tiny bit more than he had anticipated and Ranma’s lunge backward became a stumble. Roland instantly took advantage of it, bringing his sword around, and Ranma grimaced as the blow landed on his shoulder, breaking his bones, dislocating his shoulder and hurling him away. Fuck!!! That hurt! The edge ain’t sharp enough to break my skin, but the thing doesn’t need to slice skin to fucking kill me.

Roland used his sword to push himself to upwards after having nearly fallen back onto his rear, limping badly his leg ruined, grimacing in pain and anger. Without both legs to steady himself, he wouldn’t be able to give to put his full strength into any more blows like that.

Across from him Ranma groaned, reaching up and setting his shoulder, holding it as he stood up, making certain that the bones would heal properly, as Roland stared at him shaking his head. “You’re good,” Ranma said cracking his knuckles and thankful beyond all reasoning that the wet mud underneath him wasn’t liquid enough to transform him. That would’ve just ruined the whole fight in his opinion. “But not quite good enough.”

Roland grunted, pulling a hand off the sword hilt to give Ranma the finger, which apparently was a universal gesture across dimensions. “Fuck you, and the donkey who rode you!”

“Huh, that’s a new one,” Ranma said with a laugh, even as he crouched down. “Unfortunately, I think it’s time to finish this.”

Roland didn’t bother replying with words, instead he swung his sword up above his head and brought it down roaring “I am Roland, my king’s greatest Knight and I will not yield!”

With that shout, he sent a blast of energy through the ground straight towards Ranma faster than most people would’ve been able to dodge, wider than even Elen would’ve been able to leap away from. Ranma wasn’t most people, but Roland had gotten used to that too. He leaped upwards over the strike, only for Roland to lift his sword up again and lash out once more sending another energy blast towards the air.

Ranma cursed realizing that time it been his falling into a habit that time. The blow slammed into Ranma, and he howled in pain, sent flying once more before falling to earth, rolling and slamming into tree after tree after tree, each tree smashed into splinters by his fight, unable to stop himself. Roland didn’t let up, coming on hard, sending two more blasts towards where Ranma had rolled, unable to move quickly but still able to launch his long-range attacks with ease.

Still, Ranma was able to dodge most of them, while his body began to heal from the damage already done to it instantly, his ki flowing away like water. He hurled his own attacks back, once more tossing downed trees like throwing spears rather than giant trees, and once more, Roland was forced to destroy it, unable to dodge thanks to his ruined leg. That was enough, and Ranma was away, dodging freely, while behind him Roland continued to send out blast after blast.

How much ki does this guy have!? Ranma shrieked in his mind. If Ranma had been sending out ki blasts, especially of the size of the ones that Roland was tossing around he would have exhausted himself quickly. If he kept going, Ranma knew he could’ve killed himself.

Despite that though, Ranma was once more able to get in close, twisting and coming in from behind after launching several trees at Roland’s front. With his mangled leg, Roland was unable to turn fast enough to keep Ranma at range and when next he struck, Roland fell backward, gasping in agony as more of his weight was put on his ruined leg. Frankly, Ranma was astonished the man was able to do anything with his leg that battered.

Off-balance and falling to the ground Roland couldn’t dodge or redirect the next blow which slammed into the side of his shoulder, the pressure point attack deadening his shoulder from that point down. But he didn’t even try, instead, he grabbed at Ranma’s leg once more which had pulled back just a little too slowly, dragging Ranma in and down with him.

An upwards blasting knee blow landed, and Ranma felt a few ribs go, but a hammer blow to the top of the head sent Roland staggering down, just long enough for Ranma to concentrate again. Ranma’s next blow took him in the eye, causing him to bellow in pain.

And that should have been it. Roland was crippled his leg, no longer working, one arm useless and blinded in one eye.

Perhaps that could explain why Ranma made his next mistake. Ranma closed in from Roland’s blindside, intent on knocking him out permanently, and his blow did land, straight in the side of Roland’s face.

But Roland had been prepared for it already flung up his hand just in time to catch Ranma’s fist as he pulled back. He yanked Ranma in, slamming him down into the ground, burying him in the mud for just a second, as he roared, lunging forward ignoring the pains in his legs, to actually straddle Ranma. Blow after blow landed, and the two young men rolled in the mud, first one gaining the other hand then the next, blows fit to shatter castles slamming into flesh with enough force to create shockwaves in the mud around them.

But despite this final trick, the damage Ranma had already done to Roland finally began to tell. His blows came slower and slower and finally Ranma twisted them around, pulling the other man down onto the mud, slamming a blow into Roland’s face again and again, no longer able to concentrate enough to use the chestnut roasting fist or any of his ki attacks.

Finally, Roland’s defense faltered, and his arm slumped back, and Ranma stopped, leaning away from him, staring down at Roland, his own face a bloody mess, even as his little remaining ki began to work on them. He then fell to the side, gasping. His eyes closing dimly.

As he fell, he felt something inside, a distinct scraping feeling and he gasped. Freaking Oden and his insistence on breaking bones to show me what it feels like. Who knew that’d be actually useful? Realizing one of his cracked ribs was cutting into his lung, Ranma reached down and with a grimace felt at his side. He grabbed what little ki he had left, slowly using it to pull his busted rib out from within his lung. That done, he healed his lung and then threw up all of the gunk that had built up in them, his blood flowing down from his chin in rivulets.

“Well, t, that hurt,” Ranma muttered, then allowed himself to collapse into unconsciousness.

This was how Sofy found them a few minutes later: Roland unconscious, his sword sticking in the ground to one side, kicked away by Ranma after he had knocked the other man down into the mud. Roland was unconscious but was still breathing. Ranma was also laid out comatose next to him, looking much less battered save for his shoulder and arm on one side, which seemed to have been broken in numerous places.

She looked at the two men, then around, torn between horror and shock at the amount of damage their battle had done not only to one another but to the surrounding countryside. “There, there used to be a forest here, wasn’t there?” The blonde woman bit her lip, but then began to move quickly, gathering up Roland’s sword. The thing was so heavy that a normal woman with her build should never have been able to lift it, but Sofy managed, carrying it over to lay on Roland’s chest. With both arms broken and his face more a mangle of black and blue than an actual face, she doubted he would be able to move let alone wield the blade, which she recognized as one of the treasures of Brune. 

With that done, Sofy closed her eyes and pictured Elen. When the image came to her easily without her having to try and force it, she knew the other Vanadis was within range of her teleportation spell. Kneeling in the mud between the two men, she held Zaht out letting the length to either side of her rest on their chests. "Mirashem." (“Particles of Light, Come to My Side.”) With that, the three of them disappeared from the mangled bit of countryside that had seen the defeat of Roland, greatest of Brune’s Knights.

The Silver Meteor Army, with help from its allies, had beaten the Knights of Navarre. A fact which would cause reverberations through the lands of Brune and beyond as winter began.

End Chapter

HOoo boy. Okay, so I think that maybe I could have done a bit better job at certain points, but I greatly enjoyed writing portions of it. Next time, Roland wakes up a prisoner, Ranma and Tigre have an interesting discussion, and another Vanadis arrives before joining Ranma and Sofy on a trip while winter closes in.