Those Who Hunt Elves Fan Fiction ❯ Forms of Battle ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Forms of Battle

By Alpha-Zulu Mk II

Around the small table at a small café, four people sat sipping from their glasses as they waited for the remains of their lunch to be removed from the table. The group garnered some notice from passer-bys, though not too much in this larger city on the west end of the continent. Though they were well-known everywhere, they rarely caught people's attention unless they were working. What attention they got was from their dress, as it was far different from the usual clothes of the city natives.

Most noticeable was the large man in white leather pants and jacket, his black tee-shirt adorned with a flaming skull. Short, spiky hair and fingerless fighting gloves completed the chess piece ensemble. In front of him was a large pitcher of beer, which he was working his way through, with the occasional pause for a belch or two.

Sitting to his right was a woman in a cape and shoulder boards, her strapless black top tucked into her red pants. Other than some minor jewelry, she was unadorned, but seemed to draw the eye like a magnet drew iron. Her drink of choice was a glass of deep red wine, which she sipped demurely as she watched the people pass them by. She did occasionally glance to her right to check on her teammate.

On the woman's right sat a young girl with thigh-length red-blonde hair and a simple white button down shirt tucked neatly into her almost knee-length blue skirt. Well-worn and comfortable ankle boots adorned her feet, and a gun belt of equal experience rode her slim waist. Directly in front of her was a large, heavy-duty notebook, and she was busily scribbling in it with a pen. Every so often, she glanced across the street to the tank sitting in the alley across from the café.

To her right was an elf. The tallish blonde elf's ears were clearly visible to any and all, but it didn't really garner much attention in a world where elves were common. Still, this elf was different. Her gown was simple enough, and her accessories were somewhat understated, but it wasn't the clothes that made her different. It was her position within elven society that made her different. As the High Priestess of Common Elves, she had some notoriety, though it came from her association with the humans at her table more than from her temple.

At the moment, she was softly chanting under her breath as she concentrated on the small scrying mirror on the table in front of her. The man and the older woman watched the elf work, while the younger woman kept writing in her book. After several more minutes, she stopped incanting and sighed. “Still nothing,” she muttered, reaching for her glass of moon melon and berry juice.

“Yeah, so you say,” grunted the man, his tone scornful. “Just admit it, Celsia; you don't know how to use that thing.” The elf's lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl.

“Oh, and I suppose you do, mister Wonder Wizard?!” she snarled.

“Hey! At least I'm a wizard at something!” he snapped back angrily. “Unlike you!” The blonde's lips peeled further back from her teeth in a greater snarl.

“We've had this conversation, people,” interrupted the younger woman. “We're not doing it again,” she warned them both.

“Rit-chan's right,” agreed the older woman. “We need solutions, not finger-pointing,” she noted. “Celsia is our magic user, so let her do her thing, Junpei,” directed the woman.

“Sure thing, Miss Airi!” he agreed eagerly. The elf smirked at that. Without looking at the elf, the younger girl slapped her down.

“So find us another spell fragment already, Celsia,” she said evenly, her eyes on the sky, hands behind her head as she leaned back. Biting back a retort, the elf carefully re-stowed the mirror.

“Well, I'm open to suggestions,” admitted Celsia. “I've tried the mirror, the crystal charm and the summoned elementals, but general direction is the best they've offered.” The party was silent for a bit.

“Here's a suggestion, Celsia:” offered Junpei, “turn into a dog again and sniff them out,” he jeered at her. The elf sent him a withering glare.

“I'd rather try sacrificing you to a demon lord, asshole!” she yelled back hotly. “At least then, we'd get some use out of you!” Within microseconds, the two were face to face, screeching curses at each other. Rit-chan leaned forward, sending Airi a look she had seen far too many times before.

“Shall I?” she asked politely of the actress. Closing her eyes for a moment, she opened them and gave the teen a single clear nod. Taking her heavy book in hand, she closed it, took it in a two-handed grip and brought it down flat on the stone surface of the table, creating a sharp, loud report not unlike her guns made. It froze both the elf and the man in mid-yell.

“Now that we have your attention,” smiled the dark-haired woman to the two, “I believe that we should discuss our next move.”

“We've been all over this continent twice now, so what does it matter which way we go? One directions as good as another, right?” surmised the man, sitting back and draining the last of his beer.

“While we may have been from coast to coast, we still need to search the islands and the second continent,” noted Celsia. “Though the chance of any elves being synched with me from that far away is minimal, it is a possibility that we need to consider,” she added.

“Wait, you mean that there is another continent on this world?” asked Rit-chan, leaning forward. “I don't recall seeing any maps with it on them.”

“And it's unlikely that you will. The other continent is mostly uninhabited. Over the centuries, there have been a few attempts by various groups to colonize it, but they have never succeeded. They have always ended in failure, both man and elf alike,” noted the sorceress.

“Troublesome natives?” guessed Airi. Celsia shrugged.

“Don't know, really. The small settlements just seem to fade away between years. The last attempt was made about eighty years ago by a mixed group of elves and humans. It seemed to be doing ok, but then, due to some pirates and a lean year, no one sailed there for four years. When the ships arrived the fifth spring, the settlement was abandoned. No signs of struggle, no signs of disease or pestilence - just abandoned. The four ships put their crews ashore and searched for a week solid, but came up empty. So, they sailed back and it's been shelved for the time being.”

“Wow. Sounds interesting,” mused Rit-chan. “So, it's never really been mapped?” she asked. Celsia shook her head.

“Why map it? No one lives there, and no one goes there. It would be a waste of time to map it out,” scoffed Celsia, once more confirming the alien views of the elf world.

“I see. The odds of finding a spell fragment there are slim,” agreed Airi. Still, there is a measure of attraction in the idea of looking there, she admitted to herself. “Tell me, how far away is this other continent?”

“Well, it's hard to say exactly, but the ships usually sail from the port of Tarius at the far end of the Isles of Tears, and they are gone about six months, so it should be about a three month journey.” The elf shrugged. “We'd need to find a sailor who has been there before to be any more certain.”

“Three months on a ship,” mused Rit-chan. “With the number of ship wrecks we've seen or been in, I'd be worried about Mike. He can't swim, and the ocean's deep,” the girl murmured, considering the logistics of the matter. Not to mention, finding a ship that can carry him is a ton of trouble! Not many wooden ships like the ones that the elf world had could handle a fifty six ton tank - let alone one that could move and shoot on its own. “Best bet would be making a translocation circle, put one end here, the other end there, and simply driving through,” she decided, nodding to herself. Celsia gaped at her.

“Gods! That's brilliant!” she blurted out. “Why didn't anyone think of that before?” she wondered. Airi and Rit-chan traded looks, but declined comment on that.

“So, with that decided, where to next?” asked Airi, bringing the conversation back on topic. “Where haven't we been this time?” she proposed.

“Well, let's do some navigating,” suggested Rit-chan, rummaging in her small pack before withdrawing a folded selection of maps. Spreading them out, they began to orient themselves. As each town was carefully marked off Rit-chan's penciled-in list, they narrowed the search pattern a bit. They also realized that they hadn't covered as much of the main continent as they had thought.

Fully two-dozen cities were unexplored, and five whole kingdoms were untouched. Rit-chan also noted that since the spell fragments were imprinted on elves, they could move into a city that they had already searched. This thought was particularly irritating to the hunters. Hunched over the maps, they didn't immediately take notice of the change in their surroundings. By the time they realized they were surrounded, they were already under the effects of a sleep spell.

“So, this is them, is it? The infamous `Those Who Hunt Elves'?” asked a man, surveying the four unconscious people before him. “Weren't there supposed to be five?” he wondered, struggling to recall exactly what he had heard that made him think one was missing.

“No, my lord,” disagreed his head huntsman, bowing. “Their iron carriage was unaffected by the spell and chased us, but got distracted when we passed a yarn factory. While it shows some sort of sorcerous intelligence, it is clearly not human in nature, and therefore unlikely to be of any use to us.”

The lord considered that for a long moment before nodding slightly, conceding the point. “You are likely correct, and finding a buyer for that could prove difficult given the behavior we have witnessed in the last few months as we observed them.”

His huntsman bowed again. “Your orders, my lord?” he asked. The lord studied the captives intently as he weighed his options.

“How long will the spell last?” he asked the magic user he had hired.

“At least the balance of this day, though the elf might prove to be somewhat resistant,” assured the mage.

“Then my money was well-spent hiring you,” the noble replied. “Take them to the holding facility, process them and mark them with the slave rune. I will contact our patrons and let them know before I go to the holding facility. Huntsman, please make the necessary arrangements to put them on the market as soon as possible,” he ordered, the leader of his hunters bowing.

“As you command, milord,” he answered before gesturing to the four burly laborers to pick up the unconscious captives. With the group in hand, he led his party out of his lord's manor and toward the holding facility just over the low hill from the manor.

Arriving at the facility - which looked much like a prison and dungeon rolled into one - the huntsman located the facility overseer and relayed the lord's directions to the woman. Eyeing the four new arrivals, the overseer appraised them. “The man will not net much, as he is obviously a simple-minded fighter,” scoffed the older woman. “The area games operators will likely buy him once he is on the block, and he will either be a famous show-fighter or dead within a month. The woman seems to be well-bred, possibly nobility of some type. Might make some extra gold there, selling her to a noble house as a tutor or governess for their children, if she proves to be trainable. Hmm. This girl intrigues me. She has some traits of a fighter, but also some of a young lady of standing. Intriguing. I wonder if she will prove a diamond in the rough or simply rough quartz. And an elf,” the overseer smiled a thin, cruel smile. “The elf, in fact, if these truly are who you claim they are,” she needled the huntsman.

“They are,” he replied stiffly. The old woman who ran the holding facility and he disliked each other intensely and only by order of their lord did they remain civil to each other. “The girl might prove best used as a huntsman for our lord if she can be trained,” he grunted. The old woman sneered at him.

“I will train her for you, as she seems to be your type,” the old woman retorted.

“I am well aware of your `training' methods,” the man replied coldly. “While that might produce playthings for the noble's beds and entertainment for the brothels, it is worthless for creating a useful servant for our lord. Do as you have been instructed, old crone, and nothing more; these four are special cases, and our lord has a personal interest in them,” he warned her darkly before turning to depart.

“Leaving so soon?” mocked the old woman. “I thought you would at least stay to see if the little girl suits your taste or not!” The huntsman didn't react at all to her sting, leaving her with the four. “Bah! He might as well be a eunuch!” she muttered, gesturing with a hand. “Bring them, simpletons,” she commanded the four laborers, who once more picked them up and followed her deeper into the facility.

Once the four had been placed on hard the tables, the laborers left to collect their bonus. In the room, a small group of slaves approached the new acquisitions. “My lord has special interest in these four,” the overseer ordered. “The elf you can strip normally, but the clothing of the other three are to be carefully removed and folded, as it is part of their identification. Be extra vigilant with the girl and the woman; they very likely have things hidden that they must not be allowed to keep.”

“Yes, overseer,” the slaves answered in unison. As one cut the clothes off Celsia, the rest quickly figured out how to strip Ritsuko, then Airi and finally Junpei. No sooner than the four were naked than a malformed mage moved in, quickly casting a spell on each of the, resulting in the familiar rune for `slave' manifesting on the four. The spell was a fairly straightforward one, but very few magicians would use it, so it tended to be something that only outcast wizards would cast. The mage that worked the noble had been born malformed, and thus had been more or less forced into working for slavers to get by since he was only an adequate mage, had a personality to match his physique and was given to the kind of vices that only slavers could sate.

With the rune in place, the overseer moved in to study the four more closely. Her face pinched in jealous distaste at the eternally-youthful elf, but she found nothing particularly noteworthy about the supposed `High Priestess of Common Elves', and moved her eyes and hands to Ritsuko. “Yes, potential here,” she cooed evilly as she examined the girl. One hand slid down to the girl's groin, a thin, bony finger delicately probing for a moment. “Pity she isn't pure, but I can work with that,” the overseer thought aloud smugly. The dark-haired woman was next, and after a moment or two of checking her over, she nodded in approval there as well. “Yes, she will make a profit,” predicted the overseer. The last - the lone male of the group - mildly surprised her. After fondling his manhood and poking his abs, she hummed. “If only he were better equipped, I might have kept him for my own entertainment,” she sighed.

Flipping her hand, she turned for the door. “Fit them with chains and place them in the temporary cell. Our lord will be by later to see them himself,” she ordered, the slaves in the room doing as ordered.

It was after nightfall when the lord arrived. The overseer led him to the temporary holding cell, where the four were still unconscious. As the old woman gave him her estimates on what they would bring on the block, he waved a hand. “Yes, I am sure you're close to the numbers they would bring,” he dismissed her report. “But, one of our patrons has already reserved the elf, and I have a buyer in mind for the fighter that will yield more than what he would bring on the block. Tell me, are the women pure?” he asked.

“No, my lord,” replied the overseer. The lord smiled.

“No lost profit, then,” he mused. “Have the male placed in full irons and prepared for shipment in the morning. I will be testing the women personally tonight.”

“My lord, that might not be wise. The youngest of them shows some signs of being a fighter,” warned the overseer.

“Then place them in bonds in a training room, overseer,” he commanded dismissively. The old woman nodded, snapping her fingers. Slaves entered the room, two of them carting off Junpei and one each taking the women. The lord and overseer followed the ones carrying the women. In short order, the three women were secured and the slaves left. Eyeing the women, the noble began undressing. “That will be all, overseer,” he commanded. The old woman bowed before departing.

“As you command, my lord. Enjoy your evening,” she said, closing the door behind her. The noble hummed, but made no other reply as he absently stroked his hard length briefly before moving to the elf. He had had hundreds of human women, but never an elf. Smiling a little, he casually spread her legs, pausing to momentarily study the elf's exposed sex before settling into place and pushing into her. “So, this is an elf priestess,” he breathed, beginning to thrust harder and faster as he felt her growing wetter and wetter. “Pity that you are sleeping through this,” he grunted, smiling a thin smile.

Celsia slowly regained consciousness, the constant jarring helping her. What…? I remember we were talking about our next move and then…sleep spell! her mind caught up. Focusing, she tried to cast the counter spell, but found the magic wasn't heeding her call. Blinking, she opened her eyes, recoiling a little as she found herself face to face with a human, his sweat dripping onto her face as he rapidly pumped himself into her. “How dare you….?!” she began, only to have him grab her jaw with a hand.

“That is no way for you to speak to your owner, slave,” he growled, holding himself still as she felt him release in her. Celsia blinked. “I suspect from the look on your face that you have discovered you can't cast spells anymore,” he smiled at her as he pulled himself free from her sore passage, his other hand absently squeezing her left breast. “You, my dear High Priestess, will make me a rich man,” he purred before giving her a fairly brisk slap. “But before that, I will indulge in your body,” he promised.

Celsia bared her teeth. “When I get free, I will…!” she began.

“Except that you never will be free again, my dear elf slave,” he interrupted her. “Nor will your friends, for that matter,” he added. Celsia turned her head and spotted the still-unconscious Ritsuko and Airi sprawled across hard, narrow beds like the one she was on. Where is that idiot Junpei when you need him? she asked herself. Even as she thought that, she heard a soft sound from Ritsuko, the girl stirring slightly. The noble noticed this as well.

“Well, the young girl wakes at last,” he said, pausing to fish around in his discarded doublet. “Perhaps a short break from the elf,” he thought aloud, withdrawing a small green vial. Celsia recognized it as a health potion. Cracking the top off, he swallowed the entire vial in one swallow before discarding the empty vial. Moments later, she could see his dripping dick begin to harden again. Ritsuko blinked as she opened her eyes.

“Wha…?” she began, only to stop as she realized she was chained up and naked. She looked around, her mind clearing, and spotted Celsia and the naked noble. Her eyes went flat. “What is going on?” she asked in a calm, cool voice.

“Slavers,” Celsia began, only to have the man kick her in the side.

“Silence, slave,” he ordered before moving toward Ritsuko. “I can see why my huntsman is interested in you, girl,” he shared, reaching out and grabbing her jaw like he had Celsia shortly before. Ritsuko tried to bite him or head-butt him, but was suddenly paralyzed. “Ah, the wonders of the slave rune spell,” smiled the man, casually groping her breasts. Ritsuko's eyes slitted.

“One day, you will pay,” she growled, earning her a slap that left her ears ringing.

“I think not,” he dismissed her warning. “You, however, will learn your place much, much faster,” he stated, shoving her back and spreading her knees. Ritsuko tried to fight him, but found she couldn't. So, she fixed him with a deathly glare as he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed into her.

“We'll see,” seethed the girl as he bottomed out in her. Never show them weakness, a part of her thought angrily. Sooner or later, they will make a mistake, and when they do… another part of her thought. Ritsuko turned her thoughts elsewhere, doing all she could to ignore the man.

Airi awoke just in time to see the noble empty himself into Ritsuko. It didn't take her more than a split second to figure out what was happening. Seeing Celsia confirmed it. As the noble climbed off Ritsuko and headed for his doublet again, she tried to make eye contact with Ritsuko, finally succeeding as the man drained another vial of healing potion. “And now for the aristocrat,” he said, moving toward Airi as his dick hardened once more. Airi disdainfully snorted.

“More than you will ever be, boy,” she replied, receiving a sharp slap to the face. It did nothing to remove the superior smirk from her face. Grabbing her exposed nipples, he pinched them until they bled, but Airi remained silent and the smirk remained. Infuriated, the man threw her onto her stomach and took her from behind angrily. Airi smiled past the pain. The first round goes to me, whoever you are, she thought with satisfaction.

It was a long night for the women. But eventually, the man ran out of potions and left, but not before giving them all a narrow stare. Ritsuko and Airi returned the stare, Airi with that superior smirk, Rit-chan with a cold glare. Celsia was fuming, but otherwise ignoring him. Snapping his fingers, the noble summoned an old woman. “Begin breaking them - immediately,” he ordered her. “Also, they are never to see one another again unless one of them is being punished. I want the woman permanently marked, as well,” he nearly spat as he glowered at the women. “The elf will be leaving in the morning for her new owner, but do what you can until then. I am returning to my home,” he proclaimed.

“To spend several days resting, no doubt,” snickered Ritsuko. The noble sent her a look.

“Huntsman was interested in the girl, but she must be thoroughly broken first,” he said before leaving. The old woman bowed.

“As you wish, my lord,” she called after him. Turning to the three women, she gave them a spiteful smile. “You should not have angered your master so,” she stated. “You would have been broken anyway, but now I can enjoy breaking you,” she all but purred.

“Better than you have tried, crone,” Ritsuko said simply.

“I find the servile mindset of lowly commoners so boring,” Airi agreed.

Celsia fixed her eyes on the old woman. “I will get loose, and I will come for you, too, hag,” she promised, the familiar deranged look in her eyes. The overseer blinked, unused to new slaves being so composed and sure of themselves. Shaking it off, she clapped her hands, and more slaves entered the room, swiftly blindfolding and gagging the women before hurrying to the breaking rooms, where the new slaves would learn their place.

“Lot one fifty one!” declared the auctioneer as Junpei was shoved onto the block. “A warrior with a strong body and great fighting skill, but not much intelligence. Who will open the bidding for this incredible gladiator prospect?” Junpei glared at the crowd in the dim reaches of the large auction house. Bruises, cuts and burns dotted his body, but only served to increase his appeal in the eyes of the bidding parties.

“One hundred gold,” came a bid, followed almost instantly by more cries, swiftly shooting his price up to over five hundred gold. The auctioneer continued to sing his praises and recount the fights he had gotten into after being captured and made into a slave. It had irked Junpei no end that his strength fled him at the most crucial moments - moments when he could have escaped and gone looking for Miss Airi, Rit-chan and even that annoying Celsia. He was pretty sure it had to do with the funny glyph on his left shoulder, but he didn't know what to do about the problem. So, he used styles that didn't need strength. Of course, the chains and irons didn't help, and he always ended up losing the fights against the guards, but he kept trying, sure that sooner or later, he would win. It was, really, simply a matter of time.

The fact that he hadn't seen any of the others since he woke up worried him a little, but not too much. After all, Rit-chan was pretty forward with her gun and Miss Airi was too smart to be captured. Celsia was probably in a lost pet ward by now. The thought made him smirk. Another two hundred was added to his price as the bidders saw his smirk. Even chained, naked and branded with the glyph of a slave, it was obvious this one was nowhere close to giving up the fight; and that was what made money in the fighting pits.

By the time his new owner - the thought made him snort in amusement - was porting him off, he had decided that there wasn't that big of a rush to break out. He could take his time and plan things better. Besides, he never backed down from a fight, and apparently, there were a lot of people who wanted to fight him. He was sure that Airi and Ritsuko and Celsia were fine.

“Lot seven in this evening's auction,” the slave auctioneer announced. “A woman of noble lineage, educated, well-traveled and of even temperament. Suitable for a governess for your daughter, entertainment for your son, or as a mistress for yourselves, noble sirs!” he proclaimed as Airi was guided to the block and assumed the `display' position. Naked, she had been rubbed with oils, the iron chains replaced with woven silk bonds, her hair styled and even some makeup on her. Feet spread slightly more than shoulder width apart, she balanced on the balls of her feet, arms over her head, chin back and eyes fixed on the far wall of the auction house. She knew the lights of the torches and lamps reflected off the gold rings in her nipples and the silver bar through the hood of her clit, as well as the tattooed, branded and cut pattern decorating her midriff and back. As the bids began to build, she obediently turned to display her back to the audience as the auctioneer prodded her with his stick.

It had been a hard month since she had woken up in the slaver's possession. The old woman had proven to be very sadistic; and quite skilled. She worried that Rit-chan might break; especially since she herself had come close more than a few times to breaking. But, she wasn't an award-winning actress for nothing. The crone was absolutely convinced she was broken and docile. She never fought back when used for pleasure, nor did she resist any command given her by her `master'. She had learned all the proper skills without hesitation, and demonstrated great skill at them. The noble and the crone were convinced she was totally and completely broken. Airi was anything but broken.

Turning back to face the group of barely-seen bidders, she fixed a mild smile on her face as she wondered if Rit-chan was somewhere around, or if she had been sold off already. True to the orders of the noble, the two women had never seen each other again except when one of them was being punished. Rit-chan and Airi pretty much took turns that first month. She had been the first, the old hag starting the painful and long process of `marking' her with the piercing of her nipples and clitoral hood. Rit-chan had been forced to watch, her mouth gagged and her body tightly bound as the cruel woman had deliberately caused as much pain as she could while fixing the piercings.

The next day, Airi was gagged and bound as Rit-chan was hung by the wrists and lashed with an odd whip that left angry red marks, but no permanent scars. Apparently, Rit-chan had not reacted well to what they had done to Airi. Two hundred lashes left her raw and bleeding from her neck to her knees. Tears were dripping from her chin, but she refused to cry out, which earned her another hundred lashes on her chest and abdomen. Finally, she had given a small cry and fainted, ruining the fun of the old woman. The next day, Rit-chan was once more gagged and bound, watching as the woman began the branding part of the design that now decorated her midriff and back.

The pattern repeated, with Rit-chan suffering different punishments, though they were all careful not to leave scars where it would affect her sale price. Once Airi's `marking' was done, the two had started to see each other less and less. It had been a full week and four days since she had seen Rit-chan. That morning, she had `entertained' the nobleman again. When he was done, he had snidely informed her that she was being sold that evening. She had smiled back, inclined her head and departed. Just before she was taken to be prepared for the sale, she had turned to him and said `perhaps my new owner will be capable of pleasing a woman', leaving him furious and humiliated, but unable to do anything to her. She suspected that without her being there, he wouldn't take it out on Rit-chan. I just hope Rit-chan is playing it smart. She can be so stubborn and hot-tempered, though… worried the actress.

“Sold, for two thousand, two hundred gold, to the Lord from Raltaow!” the auctioneer yelled, breaking her from her thoughts. Airi demurely stepped off the block, a handler fastening a metal and leather collar around her neck before handing the chain to a somewhat thin man in a fancy jacket.

“Come, slave, we have a long trip ahead of us,” he said, tugging on the chain. Airi meekly followed behind him, her mind busy.

In the back of the area, the nobleman scowled after Airi, one hand still grasping Rit-chan's hair in a tight, painful grasp. “Good riddance,” he growled. “And now you are all alone, slave,” he snarled in her ear. Rit-chan snorted, but said nothing. Using his grip on her hair, he shoved her to her knees as he used his other hand to free his dick. “Make yourself useful, slave,” he ordered, shoving his limp length against her face. Anger in her eyes, she nevertheless raised her hands - wrists tightly bound together and chained to her waist and knees - and began to stroke him, taking him in her mouth as soon as he was semi-hard. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, fuck-head, she thought in her mind. Even if it takes me forever, I will feed you your own fucking dick!

“Our final lot for tonight, number ninety one. A young, healthy female slave suitable for household labor, entertainment, breeding or watching over younger children. She has pleasing looks and is highly educated, as well as having some basic skills in fighting. Who will open the bidding?” the auctioneer called out.

“Two hundred gold!” came the immediate answer, swiftly followed by several more offers. Ritsuko did her best not to smirk as she obediently turned around slowly on the block, displaying her naked body to the barely-seen bidders. Finally returning to face the front, she balanced on the balls of her feet, legs spread, hips cocked slightly, arms over her head, wrists crossed and tied with braided silk bonds. Her hair was braided and coiled, and her body glistened from the oil rub she had been given before heading to the block. Ignoring the bidding, she weighed her options now that she was being sold off. The memory of the incident two days before played in her mind.

She had been on kitchen duty the whole day when the head of the kitchen had informed her that she would be entertaining the huntsman in his room again. Ritsuko had nodded, and once she had finished cutting up the vegetables for the hearty soup, she had headed for the huntsman's room. It was known to her that the huntsman had wanted her to be given over to him to be trained as a hunter, but because of her stubborn nature, the noble had decided to make her into a house slave instead. She had smiled at the thought that it was very unwise to let a girl like her with an axe to grind anywhere near the food of the person she hated. Very unwise, indeed.

Still, she had yet to be able to find a way to poison him without taking out most of the house as well, so she stayed her hand, but never stopped watching and learning. The duties of a house slave often meant she ended up in the beds of the noble and his most trusted retainers. The huntsman was chief among them. So she knew what was expected of her. And yet, for all of that, she didn't specifically have anything against the huntsman.

Entering his room, she closed the door and removed the mid-thigh-length poncho-smock that the female slaves wore, leaving her naked. The huntsman - as he often did - was sitting at a small, simple table in his undershorts, reading over several documents and consulting various maps. “Hello, Ritsuko,” he said, not looking up. Ritsuko made her way to the bed and lay down on her back, waiting. It was not long before the huntsman put the papers away and moved to the bed.

“You managed to anger the Lord again today,” he shared as he gently caressed her breasts.

“Good,” she replied evenly. The huntsman sighed.

“Ritsuko, if you would stop antagonizing the Lord, you would fare much better here,” he lectured her, leaning down to kiss and lick her neck on his way to her breasts. She knew the rune on her prevented her from being able to actually fight the men who used her, so she didn't waste time. More than a few of them liked for the women they raped to try to fight back, and it gave her a sick satisfaction to deny them any fun whatsoever. “I had hoped to make you a member of my team, you know. Then you wouldn't constantly be punished and abused like you are,” he reminded her before his lips found her nipple and he gently teased it.

“You will never turn me into a slaver, Huntsman,” she replied, smothering the soft sigh that wanted to escape her lips. “And I will never accept being a slave to anyone, either.” The man worked on her breasts for a bit longer before answering her as he gently rubbed her dampening sex.

“I know that,” he said. “Which is actually fairly ironic, given your legacy as an Elf Hunter,” he noted.

“Not even remotely the same thing,” she dismissed the remark. He shrugged, easing a finger into her passage to build the fire in her sheath.

“I sometimes wonder what your world must be like,” he observed, playfully licking her bellybutton.

“You would never survive it,” scoffed Ritsuko. He hummed again, withdrawing his dripping finger from her passage as he shifted her so he was between her legs. “What, no blowjob first?” asked Ritsuko with a half-smirk.

“You hate giving those,” he replied. It was her turn to shrug.

“Depends on the guy, actually,” she said quietly, thinking of a guy she had loved to give blowjobs to. The huntsman positioned himself at her entrance before pausing. Ritsuko adjusted her own position a bit and then he pushed forward, entering her. The young woman let her mind drift.

The huntsman was the one she least minded being with. He was always gentle with her and careful to make sure she enjoyed herself as much as possible, and he never forced her to do any act she seemed uncomfortable with. But that wasn't the only reason he wasn't on her `dead man walking' list. No, she wasn't planning to kill him unless absolutely necessary because of what happened after he emptied himself into her.

Once he had finished, he shifted off her and settled her beside him on his narrow bed. “I am worried about your future here, Ritsuko,” he said, absently hugging her a little.

“You are the one who kidnapped me and put this damn rune on me,” she reminded him, a touch of heat in her words. “I still don't get why you work for that scumbag lord.”

“He is my liege, and I was born a slave on his estate, so he owns me,” the man said. Ritsuko snorted.

“You are only bound here by your own fear of freedom, then,” she retorted. “You don't have a slave rune on you, so why are you so afraid of being your own master?”

“It isn't that simple, Ritsuko,” sighed the man. Every time he tried to help her, she got this way. And slowly but surely, over the months, it was taking root in his mind. He was beginning to see that she would never - of her own will, anyway - accept her fate of being a slave. Even if it killed her. And that was what worried him. He knew the overseer was suspicious about her not being broken - indeed, he knew for a fact she was anything but broken! - and the overseer had his lord's ear in this case, as Ritsuko made it a point to be unpleasant and rebellious whenever she could be.

“So, heard anything about Airi?” she asked him after a moment of silence. The huntsman considered that for a moment.

“No, Ritsuko, and it is unlikely that anyone will again. Raltaow is…distant; and not just in geography, either. Barely any trade exists between them and the central kingdoms, they are stand-offish and disagreeable in most things. It isn't likely that your friend will ever leave; or even survive long,” he murmured.

“Care to make a bet on that?” smirked Ritsuko.

“You have nothing to wager,” he chuckled. Ritsuko hummed, but said nothing.

“Who bought the elf?” asked the teen some minutes later.

“I do not know. My lord never said, and I didn't see who collected her. I am surprised you would ask about the elf instead of your male companion,” he noted. Ritsuko snorted.

“Junpei is a muscle-headed idiot, but he won't die or anything. He's probably having the time of his life if he ended up as a gladiator somewhere,” she replied snippily. “Where do you think he wound up?” she added.

“I don't know, but if he is as good as you say, he should eventually be fighting in the Northern Arena Games. They are the biggest of the arena games and draw the highest wagers on the continent,” he reasoned. That reminded Ritsuko of another topic.

“Speaking of continents, what do you know of the ones past the Tear Islands?” she asked.

“Nothing,” came the yawning reply. “Stay or return to the slave quarters?” he asked her. Ritsuko rolled her eyes.

“Stay,” she said, settling in to sleep beside him. The huntsman drifted off to sleep shortly after she did. He knew exactly what she was doing, of course. He had been a slaver long enough to see all the games the new ones tried, after all. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Ritsuko and the others were different. Not just because they came from a different world, but different because they were different. He also realized he had allowed her to get too close to him. He suspected it was because she reminded him of his own daughter, before the lord had sold her to a brothel while he was hunting more wares. The woman he called wife (though slaves were not allowed to marry) had tried to go after her and had been killed at some point in the chase. Ever since then, he had vowed to never find himself in that situation again.

The next morning, he spoke with the lord, and after a long talk, the lord agreed to sell Ritsuko. When he heard her being called to the lord's chambers the next night, he prayed she would still be alive to be sold. He had debated apologizing to her for what amounted to a betrayal, but decided against it, watching from his office window as she was carted off by some of his men, her head still held high and a malicious smile on her lips.

“Sold, for three thousand gold, five hundred silver!” proclaimed the auctioneer, the handlers approaching her as she stepped off the block, covertly looking for who her new `owner' was. Seeing another set of handlers approaching her, she frowned slightly. Usually the winner wanted to personally inspect the new slave. She hoped this didn't mean she had been bought by a whorehouse. But, if she had, well, she would make it work to her advantage because there was no way in any hell that she would let the noble live. Even if she had to be a whore for a while. Her mind flickered through memories of the friends she had made on her last excursion, and her lips thinned. No, she would never let them win no matter what it took or how long it took.

Two months after Airi had been sold, Ritsuko was more or less dragged out of the slave auction house to her new owner's place.

Airi watched the leaves drop from the trees. It had been three years since she had been sold. Three years, and she had moved up from being the sexual playmate of the spoiled heir, to the governess of the king's youngest (and only!) daughter, to the mistress of the king, and finally to the position of King's Advisor. She hid a smile as she watched a team of healers march into the manor. The king was dying, and soon, the heir would take the throne.

Of course, only she knew that the eldest son - busy prepping for his coronation - was not going to be named the heir. In fact, he would be very lucky to see the end of the month his father died in. Nor would it be any of the half-brothers of the eldest son. No, the heir would be the sole daughter, who would be crowned the new queen. Airi knew this because that was how she had set it up and how she had insured it would happen. While being the sex toy of the crown prince, she had discovered all his weaknesses and then preyed on them mercilessly, turning the impulsive prince into a reckless, self-absorbed fool who made enemies right and left. He had even been heard to say he should kill his father and take the throne as she was removed from his service and placed in the service of the daughter.

The daughter was a nice enough child, she supposed. Airi had felt a certain kinship with the daughter, in fact. She had taught the child what she needed to know to survive, but that didn't mean she didn't use the position to advance her own plans. The child - trusting of her only `true' friend, Airi - was a puppet of hers the same as the crown prince. In her case, however, she didn't make the daughter self-destructive. In fact, she protected the young girl, identifying and eliminating spies, untrustworthy people and anyone who threatened her puppet or her plan. She also used her position to bring herself to the attention of the king, quickly seducing him.

The day she was removed from the service of the princess, she had promised the girl she would put her on the throne, so long as she did as she had been told. The girl promised to do so, teary-eyed and worried. Airi had assured her it was all in hand before moving to the room the king had set aside for his new mistress. Over the next several months, she found the king's weaknesses and exploited them ruthlessly.

The thing about being the spider in the center of the web was that she didn't have to actually get her hands dirty. She had no idea who had poisoned the king, nor did she care. It would be the same with the crown prince. The price of being unlikable was high, after all, if others could gain from your fall. Airi was widely liked and respected; trusted, in fact. Never had she been so glad for her acting prowess. Hollywood has nothing on this place, she thought as she turned away from the windows. She needed to see the princess and insure that she was properly positioned for her delivery before visiting the prince to insure that he would hang himself with the rope she had so helpfully given him.

“Another year,” she murmured as she walked down the hall. The passes had become impassable weeks ago, and would remain so for several more months. Once the princess was on the throne, she could begin the climb back to her friends. Her mind turned to Rit-chan, wondering how the girl was fairing. Sometimes, she worried for her, given her personality and occasional anger issues. Junpei was likely just fine, wherever he had ended up at. And she, of course, had landed on her feet like the pro she was. Which just left Celsia to worry about.

“Incredible! The White Dragon has won again!” roared the commentator as the white-clad figure in the arena raised their arm, a grin on their face. “Five champion gladiators against one, and he still emerged the victor! This is unprecedented! He could be the greatest of all time!”

Junpei strode out of the arena, receiving a towel from one of his assistants. “Perfectly wonderful again, sir Junpei,” the eunuch simpered. Junpei grunted, tossing the towel aside once he had wiped his sweaty face and neck.

“Can't they find some better fighters?” he complained, seeing his `owner' approaching him. “These guys are all weak,” he huffed.

“Slave,” the man who owned him addressed him, only to gulp when Junpei sent him a cold stare. “I mean, Junpei,” he corrected himself. “Another victory, yes, but it is proving impossible to get fighters to face you. You should start to lose some fights,” the man said.

“Never,” stated Junpei coldly. “A martial artist who throws a fight loses the right to call himself a martial artist!”

His owner sweated a little. He had been a small-time con man and grifter before he had spent more money than he had to win the bidding for the former Elf Hunter. In the five years since then, he had become a wealthy man because of Junpei. But now, it was looking like Junpei's earning potential had hit its peak with the unavailability of anyone willing to fight him. “Do you perhaps have any personal enemies or rivals?” he asked the big slave.

“Not really,” shrugged the man. “But I did promise Rapier and Gabriella a rematch,” he recalled, grinning. The man who owned him committed the names to memory. “Well, do rest up. I have sent some entertainment to your room,” the man said, moving off, his mind already on other matters. Junpei moved toward his room.

Opening the door to the rather Spartan room, he found three women waiting for him. “Master Junpei,” they said in unison, slipping off what little clothing they wore. “What can we do for you?” Junpei eyed them, deciding they were nothing like Miss Airi and therefore fine to fuck. One of them, however, did sort of remind him of Ritsuko, with her hair and figure. Mentally shrugging, he pulled the closest one to him and got the celebration started.

Ritsuko wiped her face with her hand before taking her rough towel and beginning to dry off. Beside her on either side were her fellow slaves. It had been a long five years for her, but she was ready now. Glancing over to the slave near the door, she got a small nod. “Listen up,” she said, her voice raised only a little. Immediately, the slaves in the wash room fell silent. “Tonight is the night. It is finally our turn,” she said. “Do you all remember the plan?” she asked the room, getting nods.

“Good,” she pronounced. “When you hear the signal, do as you have been told. If everyone does as they are supposed to, we will be free come morning,” she promised. Left unsaid was what would happen if they didn't.

Ritsuko had arrived at the plantation of her new owners to find it hot and humid. That wasn't so bad, given her minimal clothing. What was really annoying was the slave social caste system, and the ever-present snitches. That was what had taken her four years to subjugate and bend to her will. She was the Queen of the slaves. Those who had not either joined her or stood aside in silence were gone. Some had died in accidents, some had been killed while escaping, and others had lost the trust of their owner, and had been either sold or traded away. Ritsuko was the power in the slave ranks.

Still, she had bid her time, consolidating her ranks and planning more and more contingency plans, knowing she was still under-strength against the plantation owner and their friends on the bordering plantations. But, that had all changed the week before. The week before, she had found herself an equalizer. In fact, she had found herself a crate of equalizers.

It was probably more detritus from the Seren Sarat mishaps years before, but while working near the river, she had spotted a case tangled in the weeds that she recognized as being from her world - from Japan. Covertly recovering it had revealed it was a case of M16A4 rifles, packed in a sealed battle pack that included spare magazines and four cans of M855 ammo. The case had stood up to the perils of the magical world well, and it hadn't taken Ritsuko long to determine they were all in working order. Three nights ago, she had finished loading magazines and stashing the guns where they needed to be.

Her hand ghosted over the small scars on her back and the bruises and marks on her chest and thighs. Oh, it is finally time, she purred to herself, putting on a clean poncho-smock before tying her hair back in her signature long pony-tail. Five years is a lot of time, but now it is our turn. Airi, I'm coming for you then we will get Celsia, and then Junpei, and then, that asshole who tried to make us slaves.

She hadn't realized she was making a face until she realized the slaves were all cowering away from her. Easing her expression a bit, she smiled reassuringly. “Tonight, when you hear the signal,” she said, moving out of the wash hut. Halfway to the sleeping quarters, she was intercepted by two of the slaver monitors. “Master wants you,” they said, shoving her toward the main house. Ritsuko's lips thinned, but she obediently moved toward the house, her mind reviewing the possible reasons and the associated scenarios. Pretty sure I got all the snitches, she decided.

Reaching the house, she found the owner was deep in his cups, along with some guests. She recognized a couple from the neighboring plantation owners' families. Glancing around, she silently sighed. Of all the nights for this, part of her carped, but she remained impassive. “Ah! Finally!” proclaimed the plantation owner. “This is the slave I was telling you about,” he said to one of his fellow plantation owners.

“Truly, she is rather attractive,” the man agreed. “Did she really cast a spell to increase the harvest of your fields?” he asked.

“Indeed!” nodded the man. “And she made a man out of my sons, too!” he added, laughing. Ritsuko said nothing, though her eyes narrowed slightly. That night was not one she recalled fondly. “She was also trying to teach my daughters math and to read, but a good lashing and she learned better,” he laughed with his friends.

“Good,” his friend agreed. “Women should know their place, and slaves more so,” he proclaimed. Ritsuko had to force her hands not to curl into fists. “So, she is good stock, then,” the friend of her `owner' mused. “Get out of those rags, slave,” he commanded. Without fuss, Ritsuko did as ordered as the man approached. Circling her a time or two and poking, prodding and squeezing her for a bit, he seemed satisfied. “Yes, she should prove good stock,” he said as he returned to the table.

“Do you have your slave with you?” asked her owner. The man nodded.

“Slave! Your master commands you to approach!” he yelled. A few moments later, Ritsuko saw a large, muscular man in a loincloth approach from the other doorway.

“Master,” he said, bowing.

“That slave girl there,” the man commanded, pointing to Ritsuko, “go breed her,” he commanded. Ritsuko's eyes narrowed more. Turning to her owner, the man began to discuss which plantation would keep which children of the breeding. It was apparent that the plan was to breed her like livestock. The big man approached her, hunger in his eyes. Ritsuko weighted her options before smiling at him and crooking a finger.

“You are certainly a manly one,” she cooed, “I will show you to my bed,” she invited.

“No need for that, slave. Take her here and now!” demanded the owner of the large slave. The man seemed all for that, reaching for her. Shit! Choices, choices, she though as the big slave removed his loincloth, revealing a monstrous dick. Even soft, it reached almost to his knees, and it was stiffening and hardening swiftly. No way in hell, was all Ritsuko thought. Her mind flickered through scenarios.

“Are you sure you want that, master?” Ritsuko said to her owner. “The last time this happened, your wife was…upset,” she reminded him. Her owner paused, frowning a little.

“That she was,” he admitted, glancing up toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. “Not worth the risk,” he muttered. “Take him to your bed, slave,” he ordered. Ritsuko nodded, turning and striding away.

“As you command,” she said. “Come on, big boy,” she said over her shoulder. The man hurried after her. Ritsuko nearly jogged to keep him from catching her before she made it to the room she shared with seven other slaves. Reaching her bed, she swiftly pulled the concealed knife from its hiding spot before turning and driving it straight through the big slave's eye, into his brain. With a twist and a jerk, she ended him before he knew he was in danger. Tugging the knife free, she wiped it on his back, seeing the other seven slaves looking at her.

“Time table has moved up. Positions,” she said, taking the spare poncho-tunic offered to her by one of the other female slaves before heading out the door. She swiftly made it to where she had stashed the first M16 and looped the hand-made magazine carrier over her shoulder before yanking the charging handle and flicking the safety to the `on' position. With that done, she made her way toward the orchard to the side of the house.

She had picked that position because it gave her a terrific field of fire on the house and the slave bosses' barracks. Swiftly climbing an old fruit tree, she settled in, smiling maliciously as she settled the gun. “Should have thought it through before trusting that stupid magic glyph,” she murmured aloud. The glyph, she had learned, prevented her from using much strength against her `owner', with the intent being that the slaves could never revolt because they wouldn't be stronger than a ten year old. Sadly for them, it didn't take a lot of physical strength to pull a trigger.

Seeing fire bloom behind and to the side of her - in the storage sheds - she settled the rifle and flicked the fire select to semi auto. “Let the revolution begin,” she murmured, taking up the trigger slack before tipping off the shot. Her first round hit her `owner' right in the forehead. Rit-chan smiled as she put her next shot into the Adam's apple of the owner of the bull-cocked slave who was supposed to breed her. The man was dead before he even heard the shot, the bullet severing the spine at the back of his neck. Then, Rit-chan was too busy to take simple pleasures.

As dawn broke, Ritsuko stood in front of the manor, the slaves assembled before her. “As promised, we are free,” she said. “But this is just the first fight. Within hours, the other plantations will notice something is wrong. If you would remain free, we will have to fight again. What do you say?” she asked.

“Fight!” came the unified cry. Ritsuko noticed that several slaves only half-heartedly yelled.

“I see some of you are less than enthusiastic. Too bad,” she continued, her tone hardening. “I won't try to force you to fight, but hear me: interfere or try to betray us, and you will die. Am I clear?” she asked. All the slaves nodded. From farther away, she heard a short series of whistles. “They're earlier than I anticipated,” she noted casually, checking the magazine in the rifle to make sure it was full before turning toward the road that led to the next plantation. “Oh, well - let's go explain things to them,” she said, her face hardening.

Annette sighed as she leaned her head back and massaged her neck. “Six years,” she murmured. It had been six years since the group of elf hunters had vanished on the far coast of the continent. At first, she - and many others - had celebrated, believing the group had found the fragments to the spell necessary to send them home, thus ending the elven women's nightmares of being stripped at almost any moment or in any place. But, as the weeks passed and Celsia didn't return or communicate with the temple, she began to grow concerned.

That concern turned to worry as the months passed and more and more intrusions of the world the group came from intruded on their world. She had coordinated with the local temples as best as she could to try to find out where Celsia was, but there was no trace of her. The popular opinion was that she had messed up (again) and been pulled into the world the elf strippers had come from. This hypothesis seemed very popular with many past victims of the stripping campaign.

As the first year without word ended, Annette had begun to actively seek out what friends the group had. Rapier and Gabriella were back to their normal pass-times and were difficult to find, while Colleena and Milliea had been easier to find. It took her most of the second year to find all four, and just a few words to get them on-board. Rapier and Gabriella wanted their promised rematches against Junpei, while Colleena wanted to help Airi and Milliea wanted to help the entire group. It was almost like what had happened the last time the group had gone missing before reappearing. But it had been years now, and still nothing.

“Mistress Annette,” interrupted one of the bishops, making her blink and straighten up.

“What is it?” she asked crisply. Behind the two bishops, she spotted a military officer. Biting back a groan, she stood. “Why is the military bothering us again?”

The military officer - the same one, she realized, as before - stepped past the two bishops and into the office of the high priestess. Annette had assumed Celsia's role on a temporary basis while Celsia was…indisposed. “A slave revolt, priestess,” he said.

“Oh? I can spare a healer or two,” she replied, mentally considering who she had available with the right skills.

“It isn't healers we need,” the officer said. “We need offensive mages; preferably Summoners or Enchanters.” Annette frowned. With Celsia out of touch, she was the only Summoner in the temple; and one of only two on the continent capable of anything meaningful.

“Why would you need offensive magic? You said it was a slave revolt,” wondered the young elf. “Those never last more than a couple weeks and always fail,” she snorted.

“This one didn't. A slave army has taken over the greater part of the Southern Kingdoms and is steadily pushing toward the Middle Kingdoms. The army was called in about five months ago when the rebellion sacked and burned the capital of the Leraric Kingdom; there were barely a handful of survivors; none of them of the royal family.”

“Well, more power to them,” Annette replied. Slavery was never popular with her, after all. “They will fall apart when the slaves start to squabble over who is the new king,” predicted the dark-haired elf.

“Unlikely, so long as they are winning. And they are winning a lot,” admitted the officer. “Their leader is said to have fiery red hair, and a hotter temper, and she uses unheard of magic. In fact, I fear that the only ones who could match her are Those Who Hunt Elves.”

“That group vanished years ago,” Annette replied, her face giving nothing away.

“Yes, so they say,” agreed the officer. “But not their iron chariot,” he added. Annette's ears twitched slightly.

“Oh? Where is it?” she asked.

“It has been spotted roaming the kingdoms, usually leaving destruction in its wake,” the officer said. “But the reports are scattered and no pattern can be found. Also, no mention has been made of the elf hunters with their chariot.”

“I see. I will dispatch what mages we have with useful skills, but I am afraid we are short on Summoners and Enchanters. I could try to find some for you, if you like…” she hinted.

“Please do,” the officer replied. “The army is preparing to crush this rebellion harshly, but we will need mages to do it,” he said, saluting before turning to leave the office. Seeing the bishops about to open their mouths, she angrily gestured for them to be silent. Once the man was gone, they spoke.

“Mistress, you are almost as good a Summoner as Mistress Celsia, and I know that two of our Enchanters have earned their Master robes. Why…?”

“I have other priorities,” was all Annette said. “I am taking our fastest air fish, and expect to be gone for some time. Take care of the duties here; and above all, say nothing to the military of any of this and do not touch Celsia's spell book!” Gathering up a small scroll and grabbing her travel pack, she headed for the air fish stable, where the swordfish air fish waited. She needed to see if she could find Mike. That should take care of the military's problem with some slave revolt. But it did kind of strike her as odd that the description of the magic-using slave reminded her of Ritsuko.

“Would you be interested in making some quick gold?”

Rapier turned to stare down at the cloaked figure that had approached her in the tavern in the small town near the border to the Ice Guard Mountains. “Piss off, little man, before I fold you in half and stuff you into your own asshole,” she snarled. “Do I look like a whore to you?” she snarled darkly. Her companion laughed in amusement.

“Well, now that you mention it…” began the companion.

“Oh, shut up,” hissed Rapier. “Which one of us goes around in a fur bikini, again?” she sniped. Her companion only laughed louder. She realized the little man was still there. “I thought I told you to piss off,” she growled, making a fist.

“No, no! There has been a misunderstanding!” insisted the man. “I didn't mean that kind of quick gold - I meant gold for fighting! You are a fighter, are you not? And a good one, I would wager,” he added.

“Well, yeah,” Rapier replied, momentarily caught off guard.

“Arena scout,” grunted her companion. “Thought it smelled like moldy rats in here,” she added, downing the last of her ale and waving the tankard around to signal she wanted more.

“You seem familiar with them, Gabs,” Rapier noted, intrigued. She and the dark elf bandit actually got along pretty well; when they weren't trying to kill each other. Gabriella shrugged.

“I did a little arena fighting back in the day,” she dismissed the topic. The little man seemed to consider the cloaked form for a moment.

“I don't recall any female gladiators,” he began slowly.

“Before your time, mortal,” grunted Gabriella, brushing back her cloak to reveal her long, elfin ears. “Maybe five hundred years ago or more?” she mused before shrugging. The small man considered her for a moment longer.

“You wouldn't have gone by the arena name of the Bloody Barbarian, would you?” he asked. Gabriella blinked.

“Yeah, actually I did,” she recalled. “How would you know that? You a Halfling or something?”

“No, just a connoisseur of the arena,” he dismissed humbly. “Once more, would you like to make some quick gold?” he asked. Sensing Rapier was about to maim the human, Gabriella touched Rapier's hand as she answered.

“Why are you scouting for fighters? Last I heard, there were lines of young idiots begging for the chance to fight for gold and glory,” she scoffed. “Unless you mean the dark arena games,” she added, her tone dropping at the end.

“What do you mean, dark arena games?” asked Rapier, irritated at being left out of the conversation that had started with her.

“Death matches fought by slaves and criminals for the entertainment of the rich and powerful,” Gabriella replied. “It is blood sport, not competition. No-rules fighting with only one winner. It was why I got bored with the Arenas,” she added, her tone dark and magical energy beginning to gather at her hands.

“Ah, no, no! Not that. Regular Arena games. There has been a shortage of fighters willing to fight after the White Dragon rose to the championship.”

“White Dragon? Cute,” snorted Gabriella. “What's his manager's name? The Damsel in Distress?” she snickered.

“The thing is, he is undefeated. Completely,” the man said casually, instantly getting the full attention of the two.

“Undefeated?” they asked in unison. The man nodded.

“Never lost a single fight from the very first one to today. It has gotten so bad that no one will face him, so the arena is growing bored of him. There are managers who are willing to hire people to defeat him so their own fighters can advance, but so far, no one has had the power or the skill to beat him. One manager even hired a magically-enhanced fighter to defeat him, but in the end, even that one fell to him. His style is like none ever seen. The amount offered - win or lose - is not insignificant,” he baited.

“Describe this White Dragon,” commanded Rapier, grabbing the man's cloak just below his chin and lifting him off the floor.

“Tall, young, strong, likes to wear white,” the man croaked. “I have not personally seen him, you understand,” he managed to say, struggling to ease Rapier's grip. “I just look for strong fighters to face him!” he insisted.

“Put him down,” commanded Gabriella, Rapier dropping the man. “Where do we go to see this White Dragon, mortal?” she asked, her voice flat and clipped.

“Machiavelli, eat your heart out,” smiled Airi as she dismounted the carriage at the royal estate of the ruler first on her list. Her gown was worth fifty gold crowns, and around her were personal guards and body maids. Around her neck was the medallion of the Chancellor of the Kingdom. Her puppet Queen sat the throne, while she headed up a `trade and diplomacy' mission. One she hoped would advance her mission.

It had been a tragic winter for the Kingdom. First their king died, then the heir to the crown had committed suicide by leaping from the tallest window in the palace, leaving the only daughter of the former king to ascend the throne. Thanks to the help of her former governess and the late king's mistress - the slave Airi - the young Queen swiftly cemented her power base and crushed her enemies. By late spring, her throne was secure. As a reward for her only friend, she had given Airi the position of Chancellor of the Kingdom and sent her to tend to the diplomatic and trade issues the change in rules would create. Airi had thanked her young puppet and crossed the treacherous peaks at the very earliest possible date, citing the amount of time such a mission would take, while also hinting that she might not be able to complete it all before the passes froze over again, and if that should happen, the Queen shouldn't worry about her.

In all the fuss and commotion, no one noticed that the only person with the key glyph for her slave glyph - the former king - had died without transferring it to the heir. Except for the general restraints of the glyph, Airi had cut her strings while attaching her own to the ruler of the kingdom that had thought her but a slave. Airi entered the rooms set aside for her, finding slaves waiting and a decadent bath drawn. Deciding it couldn't hurt to freshen up a bit before heading out, she bathed. As she bathed, she tried not to notice the reactions of the house slaves to her markings. She had long since removed the nipples rings and the silver bar that had been pierced through her clitoral hood, but there was nothing she could do about the tattooed, branded and carved markings that circled her midriff and covered her back. She had gotten somewhat used to them, but really hoped Celsia or some other healer could do something about it; it would prove a hindrance when she returned to Hollywood.

“See, girls? Even a slave can rise to power,” she said sweetly, smiling at the house slaves. Sow the seeds of dissent and watch it grow, part of her thought darkly. Standing, she spread her arms as her body servants dried her. “A gown, please, as I will speak with the King before retiring for the night,” she instructed the body servants. The women assigned to her swiftly found an appropriate gown and dressed her. When she was ready, she followed a servant to the King's court, where she swiftly handled the necessary duties before artfully begging off while citing tiredness from the trip.

Back in her rooms, she dismissed the house slaves before dressing in nondescript clothes and picking up a cloak. Glancing at two of her body servants, she saw them dressed similarly and nodded, the three slipping away and finding a busy tavern. Ensconcing themselves at a table, Airi began her real mission: finding out what was happening and searching for clues to her friend's whereabouts. It didn't take long to hear news of a slave uprising that was burning in the southern-most kingdoms. Airi strongly suspected that she had found a solid lead on Rit-chan, but of Celsia and Junpei, there was no word. Nor was there any word of Mike. That didn't sit well with her.

After a few hours of gathering information, the three slipped back into the estate for some sleep before they resumed talks with the king about the new Queen's changes to trade. Dressing fancily again, Airi presented herself to the king once more, this time to his entire court. Spotting some visitors, she swiftly looked them over, finding them to be other nobles from near-by kingdoms. For the next few hours, she engaged in verbal sparring with many of them.

She had honestly forgotten about her gown showing off part of her markings until she heard some bitchy noble women making remarks about her being a slave who probably slept her way to the office of Chancellor. While not entirely inaccurate, it mildly irritated Airi. Before she could say anything though, another noblewoman opened fire on them. Turning to see who was defending her, she found herself looking at Princess Colleena. When the elf princess and former flower girl turned to greet Airi, she froze, eyes wide. “Airi,” she breathed.

“Boss.” Ritsuko almost groaned.

“What is it this time?” she asked, sighing as she turned to see two of her `captains' standing in her doorway. I'll say…fifty percent chance of it being about more fighting in the ranks, twenty percent chance of it being factional conflict, fifteen percent of it being about ending the fighting, ten percent chance of it being about logistical concerns and five percent of it being about marriage. Ugh! If one more asshole brings that up, I swear I will snap! she thought to herself. God, even Elf Burger didn't make me this grumpy!

Ritsuko had known going in that running a rebellion was harder than fighting a rebellion - especially if your side was the only one with guns and explosives. But she had never really appreciated how much of her time and patience would be used up by stupid, irrelevant bullshit. Every so often, she found herself thinking that maybe - just maybe! - some people might be better off being slaves than being responsible for themselves. It seemed that some people were simply incapable of making their own decisions or making their own plans. That kind of mindset got on her very last nerve.

So, she had early on made the decision to have a military-type chain of command, with groups of fighters being under the control of `sergeants', who formed groups that reported to `lieutenants', teams of which were under her `captains'. She thought this would ease up on her interruptions, but it had only helped a little. For a while, she had gone through several officers a week, trying to find the right people to fit in the right spots. She had also been separating out people to see to the logistical and governance side.

Ritsuko was an excellent student. Her grades were top of her class and school, and she had done very well in chemistry, biology, physics, history and math. She was also an otaku, and her love of tanks and guns and the like had led her into self-study military history and military training manuals, back when she was just a teenage Japanese schoolgirl. Now, that was paying off. She had studied and learned from all the best conquerors: Alexander the Great, Hannibal, Genghis Khan, and Napoleon. She had studied the histories of the Roman Empires, the Chinese kingdoms, the British Empire and of course the history of Japan. She had read The Art of War, and the Book of Five Rings along with The Prince and Leadership Secrets of the Rogue Warrior.

Any idiot could win a fight, but history taught the lesson of what happens to those who only win fights: they fail sooner or later because they do not leave a stable structure behind to supply their further exploits and to keep the lands they conquer productive. Ritsuko was not going to make that mistake. So, she formed up and split off groups of people with the right skills to insure that the captured - and liberated - plantations continued to produce and run smoothly even after the slaves were freed. It proved to be harder than she thought to do this, since it seemed most of the slaves didn't have the mindset to do for themselves. She had been forced to modify her approach a bit, but it was working more or less like she needed it to. And that let her concentrate on fending off the military of the Kingdoms who kept trying to re-conquer the plantations and kingdoms she had freed (with the unstated goal of capturing the `escaped' slaves and returning things to `normal'). Well, they could just go fuck themselves sideways as far as she was concerned. No one would ever own her without her consent.

Sometimes, late at night after a stressful day, she would have nightmares of herself sitting in a high, dimly-lit seat, overlooking a battle bridge, hands clasped under her nose and a sneer on her face. She usually woke up soaked in sweat and with a cry, the image of the blood-red bisected fig leaf floating in her mind. No, I will never be like him! she swore. Fortunately, those nightmares usually led to her dreaming of the man's son, who she had gotten really, really close with. Those dreams left her drenched in sweat, too - but for different reasons.

All those thoughts flickered through her mind in a fraction of a second before her captains spoke up. “Boss, we have a couple of problems,” began one.

“Only a couple? Well! We're doing better than usual,” she retorted sarcastically. The captain who had spoken up first was easily twice her age, a grey-haired man with a large build covered in the scars of a lifetime of slavery, who had been a leader in the slave circles of the third plantation she and her `army' had liberated. When he saw how she managed the captured plantation, he had approached her and volunteered, explaining he had trained a replacement and had been waiting for someone like her to come along instead of some idiot crusader or lucky opportunist that could win a fight, but knew nothing of leaving a working social structure behind to protect the newly-freed slaves.

“Boss, we have gotten word through the scouts that the military has requested battle mages and reinforcements. Apparently, the Temple of Common Elves has said they will send what mages they can, and there are reports - hear-say - that two armies have been levied from the northern and western parts of the kingdoms and are moving this way,” her second captain spoke up.

The second captain in the room was a former plantation owner's sister, who had inherited the plantation upon her brother's death. She had been educated abroad and had different ideas of how to run a plantation from her late brother. Her first act had been to free the slaves, then make them part-owners of the plantation. She had also started a school for the former slaves and their children as well as starting them on the path to being landowners in their own right. The plantations near hers were not thrilled with this, and they tried to destroy her plantation through means fair and foul. They had not succeeded because of the loyalty of the freed slaves, but they had succeeded in nearly bankrupting the plantation and kidnapping (and then re-selling) many of the former slaves. Things were looking bleak for the plantation when Ritsuko and her army had sacked and burned the plantation next to hers. She had seen a chance, and taken it, getting an audience with Ritsuko through her freed slaves after Ritsuko's fighters had refused to let her see her because she had been a plantation owner.

“The other issue is about the loss of fighters,” the man resumed the report. Ritsuko groaned, touching her head.

“We've talked about this,” she began. “I will not force anyone to fight for us; you know that. If anyone decides to leave, they are free to go,” she reminded him. It was understood that they were free to go so long as they didn't try to betray them. A few of the more devious slaves had tried that, but Ritsuko had executed them on the spot, without hesitation, and the rest thought better of it. Ritsuko had figured out a use for the departing slaves. She offered a small bounty of gold if they would travel beyond the kingdoms they were fighting in and seek out allies for the rebellion. More than a few took the offer, and though she knew that at least half of them would never keep up their end, she knew a few would. And with luck, word would spread.

“I know, boss,” the man replied. He had wanted to call her `mistress', but she refused. Likewise, no one called her `Ritsuko' or `Rit-chan'. She made sure there was a small but well-defined distance between her and all who served under her. It was easier when they lost people in a fight, and it made it easier to intimidate the troublemakers. “But the issue is going to become serious if we don't figure out a way to stop the losses. Those we lose in battle are unavoidable, but for each one we lose in battle, five or six more decide they are no longer needed and leave. I am worried we will lose too many to force the kingdom to sign an armistice, which would mean we ultimately lose,” he argued. Ritsuko gave him a steady, cold gaze.

“The kingdoms will either grant you all freedom, or they will learn what terror is. As for all of you, I can only give you the chance to be free. Remaining free is something you must do on your own. If they choose not to fight, then they choose to be slaves again. That is all there is to it.”

Ritsuko paused to lock gazes with each of the captains. “Besides,” she added, turning back to the table, “our army needs fewer men to fight a battle than most,” she purred, caressing the M16 on her table. “As for the armies coming in, well, I have a few new tricks to teach them,” she explained. “Have the blacksmiths finished the containers I wanted made?” she asked.

“Almost,” the man said. “What of the magic users?”

“Nothing I can do about that without Celsia,” grunted Ritsuko. “I will have to try to snipe them before they become an issue, but other than that, there is little to do about them. I am surprised Annette sent any, though. Perhaps she thinks we're dead,” she thought aloud.

“Boss?” wondered her captains. Rit-chan waved her hand.

“Nothing. Is there anything else?” she asked.

“No, Boss,” the woman said, turning to leave. Once she was gone, the man cleared his throat.

“What?” Ritsuko asked.

“Boss, you need to take better care of yourself. You have bags under your eyes and it looks like you haven't been eating right, either.”

“Thank you for your opinion,” replied Ritsuko. “Dismissed,” she waved a hand. The man hummed, turning for the door.

“Should I send someone to your room, boss? Maybe that young man you seemed to find appealing? Or maybe the girls who tend to your needs?” he asked.

“Dismissed,” came the tight, cold reply. The man left, wondering what kind of demon was in his boss that drove her so hard. It surely wasn't a big deal for her to take leisure with someone; none of the slaves would even think anything of it. In fact, most were worried that she wasn't indulging in sexual relations with anyone. Shaking his head, he headed back out to check with his lieutenants before grabbing some sleep.

In her room, Ritsuko returned to work on fabricating the claymore mines and detonators she planned to use against the next military attack. Her mind was also on trying to figure out how to get information on where to find Airi, Junpei, Mike and Celsia. When she heard a hue and cry go up, she blinked, realizing it was early morning already. Grabbing her rifle, she hurried toward the commotion, charging the gun as she went. Reaching the edge of the camp, she saw her fighters had formed a ring around a single armored figure. Several of her fighters were bleeding lightly and had their armor and weapons destroyed. Forcing her way to the front, she trained her rifle on the figure's chest, finger taking up slack.

“Ritsuko? Oh, wow! It is you!” came a cheerful voice, making her finger reflexively come off the trigger. Blinking, she looked closer at the figure.

“Milliea? What are you doing here?” asked Ritsuko, absently lowering her rifle.

“Well, we were looking for you, of course,” came the reply, the armored elf hurrying toward Ritsuko.

“She's attacking! Defend Boss!” came the cry of her men, who rushed to meet the armored elf girl. Ritsuko blinked.

“Damn it, stand down!” she thundered even as Milliea easily fended off her fighters. Ensorcelled armor and swords will do that. “I said STAND DOWN!” roared Ritsuko, firing a short burst into the air. Her fighters did so immediately. Safeing the rifle, she slung it just in time to be hugged tight to Milliea's armored chest. “Easy, Milliea,” she managed. To her surprise, Milliea held her tight long enough to kiss her cheek.

“We were worried about you,” she said casually. Glancing around, she surveyed the group. “Where did you get this army, Rit-chan?” she asked curiously. Ritsuko sighed, knowing that Milliea had some cognitive issues.

“Let's talk in my room,” she suggested, catching Milliea's wrist in her hand and leading her toward her room. “The rest of you, patch up the injured and get back to your posts. The enemy will likely have scouting parties out and we can't get caught flat-footed again,” warned the leader of the rebellion.

“So, that is what happened,” concluded Airi. Colleena blinked at Airi, open-mouthed at the casual telling of what should have been an epic legend. The two were sitting in her private rooms in the palace of the kingdom Airi was visiting first.

“Airi, that's….” Colleena was at a loss for words. The actress hummed, but said nothing as she sipped her wine. “The others will be glad to hear you are ok, and once we make it public what happened…” began the princess.

“I'd rather you didn't,” cut in Airi, her eyes cool. “At least, not yet.”

Colleena stared at the woman. “Why?” was the most intelligent answer she could come up with to that response.

“Because if we tip our hand too early, it will prove disastrous,” Airi replied calmly. “More to the point, the current situation gives us more options and greater reach,” she said, softly, her expression turning a bit scary. Colleena watched as one of her hands ghosted over her midriff, where she knew the disfiguring mark was literally carved into her body.

“Do you want revenge that badly?” wondered Colleena. Airi blinked.

“Revenge?” she wondered, before seeing where Colleena was looking. “Ah, that. Certainly, the nobleman will pay,” she said, her tone urban and collected. “But that is not the driving force behind my…request,” she chose her word carefully.

“It's not?”

“No. I need to find and link up with Rit-chan, Junpei and Celsia first, and there is still the issue of the spell fragments. This situation, though unfortunate, gives us more reach and flexibility. Once we have accomplished our goals - or the situation is no longer advantageous - we will dispense with it.”

Colleena thought she understood politics and manipulation better since she had married the prince, but this was a reminder that she was still very much the naïve little girl compared to Airi's experienced skills. And though she had thought she understood how ruthless and cold Airi could be, this was a new reminder. Airi can be scary in ways I never considered, thought Colleena soberly. But then, would I have even survived what she went through, let alone been able to turn it to my complete advantage like she did? I wonder if the others did the same?

“What can we do to help?” Colleena asked.

“First, who exactly is `we'?” began Airi, giving the elf a soothing smile. Colleena would never be able to look at that smile the same way ever again after what she had just learned.

“Annette rounded us up a couple years ago,” she began. “There's Gabriella, Rapier, Milliea and myself in the field, with Annette tending to the shrine. Until today, we didn't have a single lead on any of you. Hell, I was only here because my husband had to be at another meeting, and wanted me to find out what the new Queen was like by seeing what changes she made to the trade agreements. I heard those fat harpies badmouthing someone, and tore into them, only to turn around see it was you!”

“I see,” Airi said. “When was the last time you spoke to any of the others?” asked the actress.

“About three months ago. Gabby and Rapier were heading north, and Milliea thought she would check out the south again,” reported the princess.

“I heard about a slave revolt that feels like something Rit-chan would do,” replied Airi, sipping her wine again. “But other than that, nothing that sounds like Celsia or Junpei. Also, have any of you heard anything about Mike?”

“No,” Colleena frowned. “There were reports of sightings of your iron chariot for the first couple of years, but nothing recent. Didn't they take your iron chariot?” wondered the princess. Airi laughed softly.

“I somehow doubt it,” was all she said. “But to the heart of the matter, we have much work to do and little time to do it, so let us begin.”

Annette surveyed the destroyed village, slowly shaking her head. Behind her was the village chief and a few of his family. “It is just as we said, priestess,” insisted the man. “An iron chariot suddenly appeared, destroyed our homes and left, chased by our dogs.”

“So I see,” Annette said, absently kicking the tracks pressed into the ground. No doubt about it, this is Mike's work, she thought sourly. Mentally shaking herself to clear her head, she turned to the man. “Anyway, I will look into this personally, but I can tell you were not cursed, nor is there any particular threat of the iron chariot returning to this village,” she assured him. “Have your dogs come back yet?” she asked.

“Most them returned later that morning, but a few have yet to come back,” the man answered.

“I see,” Annette said, mostly to herself. Looking at the tracks, she saw one pair that was heading east, toward the pass to the southern kingdoms. For some reason, that made her feel uneasy. Forcing that feeling away, she turned to the village chief. “Well, I will see about making arrangements for help rebuilding your village. Do you all have shelter for now?” she asked. The man nodded.

“The next village over,” he agreed. Annette nodded.

“Then I bid you good day,” she said, heading for the swordfish air fish.

“Priestess Annette,” the man called after her, making her pause. “We have heard rumors of a slave rebellion in the Southern Kingdoms. Are they true?” he asked.

“Yes,” answered Annette, once more looking in the direction the tank tracks took, a frown on her face.

“So, this iron chariot might have been part of the rebel army,” the man nodded to himself. Annette started to open her mouth to deny it, but then reconsidered. After a moment of assessing the potential fallout, she decided to play it safe.

“For your sakes, you better hope not,” she said before turning and hurrying toward her air fish.

“Boss?” Rit-chan's captains were back again. Not getting an answer, they eased the door open. Looking into the room, they found Rit-chan sound asleep, her head on Milliea's lap, the elf warrior smiling as she watched Rit-chan sleep. Seeing the two, Milliea smiled at them.

“Can I help you?” she asked them cheerfully.

“We need to speak to Boss,” began the man.

“She's sleeping right now,” came the indifferent reply. “Can I help you, perhaps?” offered the warrior. The captains paused. Their Boss never let her guard down, and she certainly never slept when someone opened the door to her room. But, she was still asleep, her head on the strange elf girl's lap. The two frowned, considering the pros and cons.

“It's about the military forces,” began the man.

“What about them?” wondered Milliea, sounding disinterested.

“They are moving toward us,” the man said. “We need to prepare for the fight.”

“I'll take care of it,” Milliea said, beginning to extract herself from Rit-chan's sleeping form.

“You will take care of it?” repeated the man, sounding skeptical. Milliea nodded, smiling easily.

“Sure! Rit-chan needs to rest, and I am sure I can explain things to them,” she said, finally succeeding in freeing herself from Rit-chan. The man recalled his Boss saying that frequently before a battle; and she obviously knew this strange warrior. Deciding it was likely fine, he nodded. The three left the room quietly, Milliea heading for the army, humming a tune. The slave army wasn't sure how it would turn out, but the male captain ordered the scouts to keep an eye on the situation and for the rest of the group to be ready to retreat or fight as necessary.

Rit-chan woke up two hours later; and the entire camp knew when she did. Hearing that Milliea had gone to face the military, she had cursed like a sailor before grabbing two rifles and a couple of bandoleers of magazines and running off. But not before she gave the two captains a glare that make them sweat and promising they would `talk' when she got back.

It was evening when Rit-chan returned, Milliea in a fireman's carry over her shoulders, a dark glare on her face and blood on her shirt. The slaves gulped, knowing something had gone wrong. Without a word, she took Milliea to her room, laying the elf down on her simple bed before stripping off her shirt and using a bowl of water to wash herself off. Finished, she draped her towel around her shoulders and yelled for the captains to get in there, pronto! The captains did so, finding her pacing the room, a scowl on her face. Seeing the elf girl motionless on the bed, they feared the worst.

“Ok, whose idea was it to send Milliea to fight without consulting me?” she asked, her tone clipped and dangerous. The captains - all five of them - glanced back and forth before the man stepped forward.

“She volunteered, but it was my decision to allow her to go, Boss,” he said, taking responsibility.

“Jackass,” hissed Rit-chan. “Next time, wake me up. Am I clear on this?” she ordered.

“Yes!” they all chorused. She grunted, tossing her towel aside as she made way to the elf girl, kneeling and touching Milliea's face. The male captain gulped before asking.

“Is she…?”

“Dead?” came the poisonously sweet reply. “No. But only because I got there when I did,” she snarled. The elf girl stirred. “Milliea, you ok?” Rit-chan asked intently as the warrior blinked.

“Rit-chan? How did you sleep?” she asked, smiling a little. Rit-chan snorted softly, a faint smile on her lips.

“Fine; until I realized some idiots had sent you out to fight,” she said, almost feeling the spike of fear from the captains behind her. Milliea sat up, wincing a little before stretching her back. Rit-chan avoided the razor-sharp magic swords instinctively. Milliea blinked. “You're topless, Rit-chan,” she noted. Rit-chan giggled, patting Milliea's shoulder.

“Yeah, guess I am,” she said, standing and moving to where her sparse stack of spare clothes were folded. Grabbing a fresh shirt, she pulled it on.

“I'm sorry about your gun things,” Milliea added, frowning a little. “I'm sometimes a little careless,” she said. Rit-chan smiled, touching Milliea's cheek.

“Better the rifles than you, Milliea,” she assured the girl.

“You lost two of the magic staves?” asked a captain, sounding alarmed. Rit-chan turned to the group.

“Yeah, and guess whose fault that is?” came the acrid retort. “Fortunately for all of us, I have a few more! I'm not even close to being done with you idiots yet, but I have other things to do now. Get the army ready to move. We need to slip around to the northwest tonight while the military re-forms their ranks and resupplies. I want the blocking force and scouts out making it seem we haven't moved and are digging in. Understood?” she intoned darkly. Her captains could hardly leave fast enough.

Groaning, Rit-chan dropped beside Milliea on the bed. “You should probably take this chance to slip away as well, Milliea. If you don't, the military will hunt you down,” she warned somberly.

“I won't leave you alone against them,” Milliea replied. Rit-chan laughed softly.

“I'm not exactly alone,” she replied, her tone humorous.

“Rit-chan, are you doing something bad here?” Milliea asked. Rit-chan turned to look at her in surprised.

“Of course not! Why would you think that?” she asked, stunned.

“The military seems to think you are doing something wrong; criminal even! I don't think you or the others would do that, but they seemed so sure…!” Milliea explained.

Cognitive disorder, Rit-chan, cognitive disorder… she told herself firmly, forcing the anger back down. “Of course they think that,” she managed, her jaw tight. “They also think that I'm a slave. Do you think that is right, too?” she asked. Milliea frowned.

“I don't know,” she replied. “Probably not, but you have the slave rune, so maybe?” she wondered aloud. Rit-chan swallowed the yell of frustration that wanted to escape her.

“Tell you what, Milliea-chan,” she said sweetly, standing. “Let me tell you a story and when I am done, I will ask you again if you think I am anyone's slave,” she suggested, swiftly packing up her spare clothes and weaponry as she talked. An hour later, Milliea was sure Rit-chan was not a slave and she was also sure that the military was wrong about her friend. With that settled, the slave army moved out.

They were almost to their new position when it suddenly began to rain arrows. “Ambush!” yelled Rit-chan, running the bolt on her replacement M16 and beginning to search for targets. An arrow pinged off Milliea's armor. Ritsuko spotted the area the arrows were coming from and fire a few short bursts to give them something to think about.

“From behind!” yelled Milliea, slicing a soldier across the chest as they tried to attack Rit-chan. Rit-chan spun, an empty magazine dropping to the ground as she knelt, bringing the rifle up.

“Die, fucks,” muttered the girl, centering the sights and squeezing off a round. It punched right through the shield and breast plate, dropping the soldier. Rit-chan had shot two more before his body hit the ground. Milliea blinked as her friend systematically cut down attackers like they were firewood. This was the most savage she had ever seen anyone.

“Boss! We're surrounded!” called the captain, having been scanning the situation. Rit-chan changed magazines.

“And?” she called back coldly, jabbing the ping pong paddle on her rifle, the bolt stripping the first round from the fresh magazine and nearly instantly putting that round in the head of a military knight-captain as he directed his foot soldiers from the rear of the enemy line. Rit-chan smiled.

“And we are outnumbered,” the man called back. Is this how it ends? he asked himself.

“We always are,” Rit-chan replied over the din of battle, her sights finding another officer, another bullet spraying his brains over the men beside him. Her eyes flickered around, assessing the situation as Milliea dealt with three swordsmen rushing the two. “On my command, Milliea, you and I are breaking through their lines right there,” she inclined her head.

“Ok!” came the cheerful reply. Rit-chan silently bid her slave army goodbye. She hadn't planned for this to happen, but events had forced her hands, and she had unfinished business with a nobleman about a slave rune on her body, so she wasn't about to die here or be taken captive. Just as she prepared to give the command to Milliea, she heard a familiar sound.

“Mike!” she yelled, jumping up from her crouch. “Over here, Mike!” she yelled, emptying an entire mag. “Here, Mike!” she called again.

“Meow!”

“No doubt about it, that's Junpei,” murmured Gabriella, Rapier nodding. The two were watching an arena match in the largest arena in the Northern Kingdoms. Junpei - billed as the White Dragon - was defending his title as champion against ten opponents. The two had immediately bet everything they had on him as soon as they realized it was him, and though the odds were only so-so, it was easy money for them. They would have loved it if people weren't already expecting him to win against any odds, but they would take the 3-to-1 odds and happily triple their money.

“So, what do we do?” Rapier asked just as quietly as the people around them shouted as Junpei finished basking in adoration and left the area, healer teams collecting the fallen opponents.

“We could just go spring him,” Gabriella suggested. Rapier rolled her eyes.

“Like he couldn't leave any time he wants to?” she countered. Gabriella hummed.

“Probably not, if that rune on his chest is what I think it is,” she replied. Rapier frowned.

“Slave rune? Seriously? Someone must really have hated him,” Rapier observed.

“They did make enemies,” was all she got in return. “Come on, let's see who is running him,” decided Gabriella, swiftly guiding her companion through a maze of side passages and doors.

“You seem really familiar with this place for having been out of the fighting for half a century,” Rapier observed.

“These things are all laid out more or less the same,” shrugged Gabriella as they opened a door and found themselves facing guards.

“This area is off limits,” barked a guard, leveling his spear at the two.

“Not for us,” began Rapier, shifting her hips in preparation to lay the guards out.

“We have business with the owner of the White Dragon,” Gabriella cut in smoothly, subtly signaling Rapier to ease off. The guards looked the two elvish women over.

“What are your names?” demanded the head guard.

“I said we had business with the owner of the White Dragon, not some pitiful Arena guard,” Gabriella's voice cooled. “Since when do you have the authority to question your betters, peon?” she bit out, baring her teeth.

“It might be some of the people they said could be coming by,” another guard suggested to his sergeant. The leader of the guards grunted.

“One of them is dressed the part,” he muttered. “Show them to the owners' area,” he ordered the other guard.

“We know where it is,” Gabriella retorted, immediately stepping past the sergeant, Rapier on her heels. The unarmed fighter listened, but none of the guards followed the two, so Gabriella seemed to be going in the right direction. As they moved down a hallway with other shallow hallways branching off, Gabriella glanced at Rapier. “Loosen your corset strings and take off your pants,” she murmured, nudging her younger companion into a deserted hallway.

“What?” sputtered Rapier.

“Quickly,” Gabriella urged, her tone making Rapier grunt even as she swiftly did as asked. When she had finished stuffing her pants into her pack, she was left in her corset-like leather top, the thin, tight lambskin bottoms she wore and her boots under her cloak. Gabriella nodded. “Perfect. Follow my lead,” she said, changing directions. The two moved swiftly through the halls, arriving at a large doorway. Without knocking, Gabriella pushed the door open. They found four slave women waiting by a large bed.

“Out, slaves,” ordered Gabriella. Meekly, the girls did as ordered. As they passed Gabriella, the elf handed the first a small sack of coins. “You did as ordered, and we were never here. If you say anything, I will split you all open with a fucking tree. Understood?” The slave women nodded fearfully before Gabs shut the door behind her.

“What are we doing?” wondered Rapier.

“Waiting, of course,” smirked Gabriella, settling beside the door. Rapier huffed to herself, but took the other side of the door. Minutes later, they heard an argument drawing closer to the door.

“All I am saying, Junpei, is that just winning fights is not enough. You need to play to the crowds,” a man was saying.

“And I told you, a true martial artist never throws a fight,” argued back the other person. The door banged open and Junpei strode into the room, bare-chested as he wiped himself off with a damp towel. Directly behind him came a smaller man with a shifty, squirrely nature and beady eyes. No amount of fancy jewelry or expensive clothes could disguise his nature. “You're like a broken record,” grunted Junpei, tossing the towel back through the doorway. “I don't need you any more tonight,” he said without looking.

“Of course, master Junpei!” came a nearly girly voice. Both Gabriella and Rapier both had the same thought instantly: eunuch! “If you need anything at all, I will be just outside the door…”

“I said I didn't need you any more tonight,” repeated Junpei, before frowning. “Where are the fangirls?” he wondered. Gabs pivoted around the door frame, grabbing a colorfully-dressed attendant by the shirt and flinging him into the room even as Rapier chopped the neck of the man Junpei had been arguing with, dropping him instantly. Junpei had skipped back, falling into his fighting stance even as Gabriella ran the eunuch's head into the wall, knocking him out.

“More assassins?” he snorted contemptuously. “You'd think you'd learn…hey, aren't you two…?”

“You are a hard man to find, Junpei,” smiled Rapier, brushing back her cloak as Gabriella did the same.

“Rapier. Gabriella,” he identified the two as he relaxed a little from his stance. “What brings you here?” he wondered.

“You do,” they said in unison. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

“Master Ugan?” a voice asked.

“His guards,” Junpei said. Gabs grabbed the owner's body, throwing it into a chair even as Rapier tossed her cloak over the crumpled form of the eunuch.

“Bed, quick,” Gabriella said, her skimpy top dropping to the floor as she straddled the owner's slumped form. Rapier dove at Junpei, one hand tugging her corset top down. The two landed on the bed, Rapier straddling Junpei as the door opened and a guard looked in.

“Master White Dragon, you are so naughty~!” cooed Rapier like some slutty teenager, almost making herself gag.

“Master is such a tease~!” Gabriella said, holding the head of the owner to her bare chest.

“What?” barked Junpei, glaring at the guard. The guard looked once more at Gabriella and the owner as she wrapped her arms around his head and made it look like he was motor boating her tits with his face. “We're busy, so fuck off,” warned Junpei.

“R…right,” the guard swallowed, still staring at the two elven women. Rapier surreptitiously guided Junpei's hands to her bare tits as she undulated on top of his. “I'll just…come back…later,” he licked his lips, unconsciously stepping farther into the room.

“If you don't beat it, there won't be a later for you,” warned Junpei. The guard twitched before backing out of the room and closing the door. After a few more moments of breathless squeals and squeaks, Gabriella slid off the still-unconscious owner, contemptuously shoving him back into the chair. Turning, she saw that Rapier was still undulating on top of Junpei as the man massaged her tits.

“We don't have time for that,” she snickered, making Rapier twitch and leap off Junpei, blushing as she got her top settled again.

Rit-chan, dressed in a small, thin, tight loincloth and an equally minimal tied-on breast band, hummed happily as she scrubbed Mike with a makeshift brush. Around the tank were the maintenance kits and gear. Her officers and most of the army in the immediate area just stared at her as she happily tended to her pet. Milliea watched as well, smiling, from where she sat under a tree not far from the tank.

“I have never seen Boss like this,” breathed one of the lieutenants.

“She seems…happy,” noted a sergeant, sounding baffled.

“I didn't think Boss could do happy,” agreed a Captain.

“She treats that iron chariot that appeared last night as if it were a lover,” another of the freed slaves almost-complained.

“Maybe it's because your cannon can't compare to its cannon,” sniped one of the former slave girls that orbited around Rit-chan, seeing to her every need - real or imagined. The fighter twitched, scowling at the former slave girl even as Rit-chan tossed the brush aside to jump up and hug the long barrel of the 105mm cannon, squealing happily. “See? Told you!” gloated the girl.

“What man could match that mighty rod of steel?” grunted the fighter. Boss is a size-queen? It would explain some things… he thought.

Rit-chan had never been so happy to see Mike as she had been hours before. From the moment that she had heard the distinctive rumbling growl of Mike's diesel engine and clanking of his tracks, she had known they were going to win. Indeed, the outcome was no longer in doubt when Mike burst through the tree-line, flattening several large trees like they were toothpicks. The tank had homed in on Rit-chan, heedless of anything in his path. Most of the slaves knew to get out of the way, while most of the alliance military weren't as quick on the uptake; and paid for it with their lives.

Stopping by Rit-chan, Mike meowed again even as Ritsuko leapt up onto him and all but dove into the commander's station. “Mike!” she nearly sang. “Milliea, get up here and stay behind the cannon!” she yelled. “Freedom army! Get down!” she yelled over the PA system even as she charged the Browning .50 machinegun. “Mike! Spotlight!” she yelled, the large spotlight turning on, blinding many of the soldiers with the daylight-like intensity of the beam. “Give me a high explosive, point detonate fused, Mike!” she yelled, swinging around the big fifty. “Put it where my bursts go,” she ordered, pressing down the butterfly triggers.

One in five tracer fire sliced through the military reinforcements like paper, and once the tracers hit the command group, Rit-chan kicked the hull, and Mike fired the main cannon. The explosion from the high explosive shell wiped out most of the commanding officers of the ambush group. “Beautiful, Mike! Give me another one!” screamed Ritsuko, traversing the fire from her heavy machinegun to a cavalry group that was trying to form for a charge; or maybe to run, she wasn't sure which. The cannon fired again. “Suck my dick, bitches!” screamed Rit-chan, eyes wild as she chopped up the cavalry.

“Traverse left! White phosphorus round, target tree line at seven o'clock, range 300 meters! Pour it on, Mike!” she yelled over the river of bullets she was pouring into the soldiers in her field of vision. Mike pumped out three shells, setting the forest on fire along with the bowmen who had been hiding there. “Yeah! Burn to the fucking ground!” howled the girl firing the heavy machinegun. The belt of ammo in the .50 ran out.

“Watch your feet, Milliea, we're going hot on the coax!” she warned her friend, dropping into the gunner position in the turret and releasing the safety on the machinegun mounted beside the main cannon. Grabbing the turret controls, she cackled as she fired the machinegun in long bursts as she traversed the turret in a complete circle, mowing down anyone not in her army. Up top, Milliea watched, stunned, as Ritsuko decimated an army, laughing the entire time. When she ran out of things to shoot, Rit-chan popped up from the somewhat-smoky interior of the tank, sighing happily as she hugged the tank as best as she could. “My Mike,” she murmured, giggling almost drunkenly.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened. “Listen up!” she yelled to her army. “Anyone who can move, help the wounded and follow me!” she ordered before dropping into the driver compartment and taking the controls. Without waiting, she began driving, though not too fast. Listening to the tracks, she realized that she would need to do maintenance, and changed her direction. By daybreak, she had found a good spot to lay up and had immediately began to work on Mike, who was in need of maintenance. She replaced some damaged tread sections with spares, lubed and oiled the carriage and traverse gear, swabbed the bore of the cannon and inspected it, cleaned and lubed the Browning and the coax machinegun, checked supplies and ammo, cleaned the interior, and finally, she had washed Mike. With that done, she could relax.

Releasing the barrel, she got comfortable on top of Mike, already drowsy. “Boss?”

Rit-chan growled but sat up, seeing her captains had assembled, but only three of them. “What?” she asked, her tone long-suffering.

“It's about the casualties,” the lone male captain said.

“Let's hear it,” she commanded, absently rubbing her eyes.

“Dead or wounded, we have lost about one third of the fighting force,” he said, making eye contact with her. She knew what he was conveying. If things went as they usually did after a nasty battle, she was effectively out of fighters. Still, she had Mike back with her, so it didn't really bother her much.

“And?” she simply replied.

“What are your orders, Boss?” he asked her directly. She knew damn well he wanted her to tell him to stop anyone from leaving, but that was not going to happen for several reasons. She considered her plans and immediate goals.

“Assemble the army in one hour. I have some things to tell them,” she said, laying back down on the tank, which made a soft meow sound. A few moments later, she felt someone settle close to her. From the smell of armor and flowers, she knew who it was. “Yes, Milliea?”

“Are you ok, Ritsuko?” asked Milliea directly.

“Better than I was yesterday,” smiled back Rit-chan, her hand absently rubbing the tank. “Worried?” she guessed.

“A little. But I know you are doing what you think needs to be done, so I'll stick with you,” she said.

“I wanted to ask you to get in touch with the others for me, actually,” Rit-chan said.

“But we don't know where they are,” pointed out Milliea. That threw Rit-chan for a moment before she figured it out.

“I meant Annette, Gabriella, Rapier and Colleena, Milliea,” she smiled.

“Oh! I could do that,” she cheerfully agreed.

“Good. Do you happen to have an accurate map with you?” she asked hopefully. To her disappointment - but not surprise - Milliea shook her head.

“I don't read maps well, so I don't bother with them,” she said, cheerful as ever. “But I also never forget how to get back to any place I have ever been, so it works out well!”

“If you say so, Milliea-chan,” Ritsuko replied, revising her plan. She hadn't realized she had drifted off to sleep until someone nudged her. Opening her eyes, she saw it was the former plantation owner.

“Boss, it is time,” she said. Ritsuko nodded, sitting up. “Um, perhaps you want to put on some more clothes?” the woman hinted. Blinking, Rit-chan realized she had been napping in the minimal clothes she had worn to work on Mike and wash him.

“Give me two minutes,” she said, pulling up a pack from Mike's interior and pulling out a tee shirt and her Daisy Dukes. Wiggling into them, she stepped into her worn tennis shoes before tying her hair back. Done, she jumped down from the tank and made her way toward where she could hear her army.

When she stepped up onto a large bolder, everyone fell silent. Milliea stood close by her, smiling easily. “Our fight has entered a new stage,” she addressed the group. “I have been reunited with powerful friends, and the alliance has shifted tactics on us. So, we are shifting tactics too,” she said. Never one for flowery speeches, she cut right to the point.

“I have always known that those of you who are not fully committed to the fight slip off after a costly battle, and I have always allowed it. This time, however, it would mean the end of this army.” She let that sink in for a bit. As the murmuring grew, she spoke up again. “I am not going to stop you all from leaving. I only want volunteers in my ranks. For that reason, I am hereby splitting the army. Each of my captains will be taking a section of you to begin solidifying the economic and social structure of the lands we have liberated. I will be giving them more detailed instructions once this meeting is over. You are free to join whichever group you wish; or none at all, if you wish to have others rule your life for you,” she said, her tone turning harder.

“Myself, I ask only for twenty volunteers from you to follow my lead. I will be pushing the fight further and further into the central kingdoms, but not in the manner we have been fighting to this point. Hear me clearly: if you volunteer to serve me, there is no walking away until victory or death. I will run your lives more thoroughly and strictly than any master you ever had, but I will also teach you valuable skills and abilities. I am expecting casualties in the ranks of those who join me, have no illusions, and I cannot promise any of those who choose to serve me will live, but I can promise I will do all I can to try to keep you alive.”

Murmuring broke out again, and she let it go on for nearly a minute before she spoke up again. “You are free now, but if you want to stay that way, it will have to be by your own efforts. My fight continues, and the kingdoms have still not capitulated, so you are only free if you make yourselves free. Remember that! I wish you the best of luck. Any of those who wish to volunteer, make your way to the iron chariot. That is all.”

Jumping off the boulder, she gestured to the captains, who hurried to her. Ritsuko swiftly laid out her plans, handing each of them several pages of hand-written notes and directives and suggestions. For nearly an hour, she answered questions and clarified things for them then she sent them off. Returning to Mike with Milliea at her side, she found that she had just over twenty volunteers - most of them from her original group of slaves. Eyeing the group, she also noticed that more than half of them were female between the age of ten and thirty-something, and of the men, there were only those younger than eighteen and those older than about forty. A small smile curved her lips as she surveyed the group. Yes, she could work with this group.

“You have been a gracious host, and my Queen will be overjoyed to hear of our agreement,” Airi said smoothly to the king, bowing elegantly. “But, I fear duty compels me to depart from your most excellent hospitality.” Not a dry eye in the house, she thought with a mental snicker.

“Chancellor Airi, it is with a heavy heart we must bid you safe journey,” the king replied, almost crying. “Please, if there is anything we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask,” he implored.

“If such a situation arises, I will be most honored to request the boon of your assistance, my king,” she acknowledged her victory. Further back, near the audience hall doors, Colleena felt a tingle race through her spine as she watched Airi play the entire court like a harp. Airi is dangerous! she thought uneasily.

With the formalities out of the way, Airi joined Colleena as they exited the palace and climbed into the carriage waiting for them. In another carriage were her personal servants and luggage. The carriages immediately departed the palace, heading for the next kingdom on their list. As they exited the palace grounds, an honor guard of Royal Lancers joined, six in front, six behind the two carriages. Airi said little as they made their way through the city. Once they were out of the city proper and heading into the suburbs - though Airi doubted they even had the concept in the Elf world - Colleena finally spoke up.

“So, um, what's the plan?”

“The plan is for me to continue my little publicity tour, while you will be working on finding the others and setting up a meet. I think a visit to the Elf Shrine just became necessary, but it would be for the best if we could arrange for the visit before-hand, if you understand my drift,” she replied quietly.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Colleena replied. “Um, I'm not very good at this kind of stuff,” she offered with a touch of hesitation. Airi sent her a reassuring smile.

“I am sure you can manage. I would suggest you start by sending some letters once we reach the next town. Use messenger services, and require that the message be delivered to the hand of the addressee. And when writing the messages, be sure to choose your words with care, as we don't want to tip our hand,” Airi smiled pleasantly.

“Uh huh,” Colleena breathed. She knew Airi in ways others didn't, thanks to her tutoring her in how to dance and fit in with nobility back in the day, so she knew how harsh a taskmaster the actress could be.

“Don't worry, we have several hours to work on the messages,” Airi assured her placidly. “How about we begin? First, you should write a letter to your husband, as he might begin to wonder where you are all this time. I should point out that if you need to return to him, then please do so; men like him can be prone to childish behavior from time to time,” smiled the older woman. Colleena got the feeling that Airi had a rather dim view of her husband the prince, and she wasn't going to argue the point even though she shared a different view of him.

When the carriages stopped for the night at a small inn, Airi and Colleena had a good meal, took a bath, and then Colleena spent the next hour writing out what Airi dictated to her before she went to bed. The next morning, Airi off-handedly changed their schedule, allowing for a detour to a town with a messenger guild facility so Colleena could send off the dispatches. As Colleena was directing the messenger guild station chief on the destinations and instructions, Airi noted that now there were utility poles along most of the roads, some with wire (though the wire didn't connect to anything). The elf princess returned to see Airi with a pensive look on her face.

The next evening, they stayed at an inn at the last major crossroads before they entered the next kingdom. Their honor guards would be turning back about noon the next day when they crossed over into the neighboring kingdom. While they were eating, a group of locals entered, boisterously ordering ale and lots of it. Airi only half-listened, her mind on the next set of letters Colleena would be writing that evening when her ear was suddenly caught. Focusing on the conversation, she realized they were talking about the rumors of the slave rebellion.

Apparently, there had been a major battle, and though the Allied Kingdoms army was claiming victory, the Southern Kingdoms were still very much under the rebel army's control, though the charismatic leader of the army - known only as `Boss' and being described as a red-headed amazon warrior of unbelievable magical powers and unmatched prowess with a sword - seemed to have vanished. The military was claiming she had been slain, but they couldn't provide any sort of proof; especially since the battle left them so badly shattered that they had to cancel all planned operations for the rest of the year and fall back into staging area camps to re-organize, re-equip and rebuild before they could even think of trying another offensive campaign. The locals focused on the rumors of what had surely been an epic battle, but Airi was thinking of others things.

Rit-chan is no Amazon warrior, but I like to think I know her, Airi considered. If she vanished, it was because she chose to. Granted, there is a very faint possibility that she might have been killed, but I doubt it. My Rit-chan is tougher than most in this world, considered the actress. But even then, her disappearance doesn't help me any. If she is following her normal modus operandi, she is going guerrilla on their asses, and that will be a blood-bath. I suppose I need to prioritize her, then, decided the woman.

“Change of plans, Colleena-chan,” Airi murmured before finishing her wine and dabbing her lips with the napkin. Colleena finished her own wine, wolfed down the last couple bites of her own food and followed Airi to the room they were sharing. Once inside, Airi took a pen and swiftly wrote out a message, though Colleena couldn't read a single character. “Persephone,” called Airi, her senior-most body servant appearing a few moments later. Airi handed the servant the letter. “You leave at first light. Buy a horse, and make for the Southern Kingdoms. Avoid the military camps if at all possible, but if you must, make up some reason for going to the Southern Kingdoms that won't arouse suspicions. Perhaps your brother or father was in the last fight and went missing, or you have family in a plantation under rebellion control; something like that. Dress as a commoner, but not as a poor one. When you reach the rebel army, tell them that you bear a message from Oscar to Boss. Do not allow anyone to take the message from you except their Boss; and then, only if she is a young red-head, slim build, early twenties, who answers to `Ritsuko' or `Inoue'. Questions?” asked the Chancellor.

“Where should I re-join you, my Lady?” asked the woman, who was likely five years younger than Airi.

“I do not know, though you know the order of visits I plan to make, so you can chose to follow the schedule, and try to catch up to me, or you can return to the Queen's side. Tell her it was on my orders, and she will ask no more. The choice is yours, Persephone,” repeated Airi, rummaging in her travel dress for a moment before withdrawing a small pouch and handing it to the servant. “For your expenses and trouble,” smiled Airi.

The servant bowed deeply to Airi. “I will return the unused balance to you when I see you again, my Lady.”

“Dear Persephone, I do not want any of the money back; if any is left, it is yours for being a loyal servant and dear friend,” the actress said soothingly, touching the servant's cheek with her palm. “Do be careful, however; if the leader of the uprising is who I think she is, she can be…moody,” added the older woman. “She might also be somewhat hard to find, so time is less important than success.”

“Yes, my Lady,” confirmed the servant before Airi gestured a dismissal. The servant departed the room. Colleena could only marvel - and shiver - at the display of control and manipulation she had just seen.

“We have letters to write, Colleena,” Airi's cultured, level voice broke her from her thoughts.

“Y…yes!” she squeaked, quickly setting up her quill and inkpot while Airi set out some message parchment for her. “We will begin with a letter for Annette,” Airi settled on the bed near where Colleena was already writing. “It should be addressed to High Priestess Annette, Shrine of Celsia, Common Elves Temple. Let's see, how should we word this?” mused Airi. “Ah, I believe that will work. Let's start with `My dear Annette,' new paragraph, `I have heard some interesting rumors while traveling, and thought I would share them with you'.”

Rapier settled back in the bath, sighing happily. Not far from her, Gabriella finished washing off before stepping into the bath as well. “Ah, that's nice,” sighed the dark elf, Rapier nodding. The two were in a rather nice inn in the third-largest town in the Northern Kingdoms. “Pity Junpei didn't come with us,” she added a few moments later.

“It was the right move to make,” Gabriella replied. “The Slave Rune is a problem we aren't ready to deal with right now, and killing that idiot who `owns',” the dark elf snickered meanly at the world, “him would have created more problems. Besides, do you really want that idiot running around trying to find the others by himself?”

Rapier considered that for a moment before shaking her head. “No, that would make things worse,” she admitted. Subtlety and thought were not traits associated with the fighter, after all. “More to the point, we still don't know who set this up, either,” she added.

“Somehow, I think the girls do, though,” Gabriella replied coolly.

After a rather tense meeting, the two had decided that leaving Junpei there was for the best, and it had taken them about an hour to convince him of that. In the end, they had `promised' - fingers crossed behind their backs - to let him know when they found Airi, Rit-chan or Celsia and let him `rescue' them. With that decided, they had to deal with the situation they were in. Gabriella decided to soak the owner with ale and leave him stripped on the floor next to the bed so he would think it was another out-of-hand celebration with Junpei and the slave girls he usually sent to the fighter's room. Junpei had shared that they sometimes ended up like that, so it wouldn't be unheard of.

The eunuch was another matter. After a few minutes of suggestions that all involved the former man dying, Gabriella had finally cast a spell on him that should scramble his memories of the last few days; or scramble his head entirely, she wasn't real sure which because she had only read the spell without ever trying it. The two decided it wasn't much of a risk if it scrambled the slave's mind. With that done, they had donned their cloaks and departed. As they were passing a room, they spotted one of the women they had evicted from Junpei's room. It wasn't hard to convince her to get her friends and return to the room to entertain the famous fighter - and to never say anything about the two of them visiting.

One of the perks of the arena system was that noble women were notorious for having torrid, raunchy affairs with arena favorites. Because the women were often married to powerful men or from powerful families or factions, the arena staff had long since learned to be blind, dumb and deaf in certain regards, especially when it involved visits by well-dressed ladies to the champion of the arena in the night. Gabs was fairly sure that no one would have admitted seeing them even if they had had a brass band accompanying them down the hallways and greeted everyone they saw.

Rapier, though, pointed out that slaves were often vicious, back-stabbing little vermin, and the political terrain of the Arena was worse than any battlefield. And there was always a price on the head of the champion. Hadn't they been offered the chance to fight him in the hopes that he would be defeated, worn down or killed outright? She had preferred stealth, as she usually did. So, the two made as little contact as possible going through the arena sub-passages before immediately heading for the town they were now in.

Having stopped for a rest and to decide on their next move, they weighed their options. They had found one of the people they had spent years looking for (even if he was the worst of the lot in many ways), but were no closer to the others. Ultimately, they decided to check in with Annette and see if there was any new news, while letting her know about the slave rune spell and Junpei's location.

Rit-chan surveyed the small valley, nodding to herself. It had once been a small summer pasture of a farm, but it had long since been abandoned with the death of the farm owners and the subsequent reduction in the population of the area. She had heard of this area during her preparation years, and now she had found the perfect base for the next phase of her plan.

Mike drove into the valley, being extra careful not to knock off any of Rit-chan's volunteers. Rit-chan had picked her number of volunteers partially based on the maximum number of people she could fit on Mike. She had placed the smallest inside (with very strict orders to touch nothing), two per seat, in the driver station, gunner station and loader station, with the rest perched on the hull. She and Milliea shared the very top of the turret. Standing on top of the turret, she surveyed the valley, finding that it had a modest creek in it, as well as a weathered shack at the far end. Mike stopped by the shack.

“Ok, people, this is home for the next bit,” she announced, easily hopping off the tank, her volunteers doing likewise. “First things first,” she began once everyone was off Mike, “we need to make this shack livable, we need a shelter for Mike, and we need to set up a kitchen and larder.”

“Yes, Boss,” chorused the former slaves. Rit-chan smiled a little.

“Milliea, think you could make some lumber for us?” she asked, smiling at her friend.

“Sure!” chirped the girl. Rit-chan swiftly broke the group into teams before she and Milliea walked into the woods. Selecting a tree, Rit-chan explained to Milliea what she wanted, and it took the elf girl about five minutes to turn a tree into green lumber sheets and shingle splits. Rit-chan selected more trees and Milliea turned them into the components for the shelter she wanted for Mike. With that done, she left the work teams to bring the lumber to the shack, and she and Milliea cleared the area behind and to the side of the shack of all vegetation before fashioning a shelter for Mike to the side and larder area behind the shack. With that done, she had left Milliea in charge, taken her PSG1 rifle - how glad she was to have her guns back! - and headed into the woods with one of the young male volunteers to get some meat for them.

It had not taken her long to spot a deer. The young man had been sure they needed to stalk closer, but Rit-chan had just giggled and settled her rifle, taking a breath before squeezing the trigger, the thirty-caliber round taking the deer down with ease even at six hundred meters thanks to Rit-chan's head-shot of the deer. Butchering the animal had taken another half hour, then Rit-chan and her volunteer had packed the meat back to the cabin.

Reaching the cabin, Rit-chan diverted a team to cook the meat, using the equipment the group had kept on Mike while she addressed another problem: the physical size of the cabin. It was simply too small for the entire group. So, she considered the building for a few minutes before using her sheath knife to mark out a doorway, which Milliea's magic swords cut out in moments. With that done, she and Milliea made more lumber from a couple more trees, and by nightfall, the cabin was twice as big thanks to a lean-too bunk room, connected by doorways to the opposite side of the cabin from Mike's shelter. While the others figured out the sleeping situation, Rit-chan pitched her well-used tent next to Mike and happily snuggled into her sleeping bag, her G36 cuddled in her arms.

The next morning, she had her teams finish up the prep by repairing the roof of the cabin, making an outhouse and laying in firewood for cooking. When asked about lights, she had smiled and shown them a lantern from Mike. She was done with smoky torches and sooty oil lamps, thank you very much! By nightfall, she was satisfied that her camp was in running condition. As they finished their supper, she had started them off by explaining how they would be fighting until further notice.

The term `guerrilla warfare' was unheard of, and the practice itself was rarely seen and only in the rudimentary phase in the Elf world. Rit-chan, however, had centuries of examples to pull from, as well as practical experience to reference. That night, she explained the core concepts and general outline of how insurgencies worked. By the time she called it a night, the volunteers were more scared of her than being slaves ever again.

In the morning, Ritsuko began Insurgency 101 training with her group. The first part was pretty easy, since she knew most of the former slaves and their capacities and tendencies. Now, she was weaponizing them. Her first step was to find which of them had the highest suitability for guerrilla warfare and create them as team leaders. These fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on who you asked) few got extra lessons and instructions, including how to work an M16 and care for it. They also had to learn how to make black powder, improvised fuses and detonators. She taught them tactics and how to be unremarkable.

The balance were fitted into small cells that would support the team leaders or work on long-term projects. It didn't really surprise her that all her team leaders but one were women in their 20's. The lone male was a greying former slave who had once been an officer in a small kingdom's military, but came out on the wrong side of a coup attempt and ended up a slave. She had him teach the others how to tell rank and how to talk like a soldier.

For the youngest and oldest, she concentrated on intelligence gathering and sabotage. No one tended to take children seriously, and the older adults seemed to be mostly ignored as well, which placed them in a perfect role as spies, saboteurs and scouts. Also, the adults could convincingly play parents or grandparents to the youngest of her guerrillas, further concealing them from scrutiny. These, she taught other skills to, like observation and mapping, tracking and scouting, and the ever-popular and useful eavesdropping, rumor mongering and social disruption tactics.

All of her fighters were taught how to kill. She stressed to them that it was important to not draw attention, but at the same time, they did not want to be taken alive. Additionally, there would be times they would need to kill, and they all needed to know how. They all learned the correct way to cut a throat, the seven best targets for a knife or sword that would yield the fastest, quietest death, and of course unarmed combat. Ritsuko wished Junpei, Rapier or Gabriella were handy to teach those sections, but she did well enough for what she had.

After a month, she took her teams into the nearest town and set up a new `training camp' for them, where they would practice their skills on a relatively tame populace. It was during this time that she got a message from one of her Captains that someone was asking for her specifically. The person claimed to have a personal message from `Oscar'. For a moment, Ritsuko was stumped. Then, it hit her. Grabbing Milliea, she told her team captains she had to go take care of something and to keep working before she roared off on Mike. Her teams did as ordered, practicing their skills and sparring at the base camp and at the training camp in town.

Two days later, Rit-chan opened the door to a room in a plantation she had freed the year before to find a woman a little older than her sitting in a chair, book in her lap. “I am Boss. You have a message for me from Oscar,” she said, her tone cool and distant.

“I have a message for a very specific person,” came the reply. “My mistress said you would be known by a certain name. You match the description I was given, but to be sure, I need to know that name.”

“I am known by a lot of names,” countered Ritsuko, studying the woman. “You will have to be more precise. And just so you know, if you are lying, I will kill you here and now,” she added calmly.

“The name I was to use to verify the person's identity is known to Oscar as given in the manner of their kingdom.”

That gave Ritsuko a moment's pause before she realized what she was being challenged with. “Inoue,” she said quietly, locking eyes with the women. The woman bowed.

“Your message from Oscar, mistress Inoue,” she said, producing a tightly-folded and sealed letter. Glancing at the seal, Ritsuko carefully broke it, finding herself looking at Japanese. Her smile grew as she read the quick note. Definitely Airi, she thought happily. Even if someone had intercepted the note, they couldn't read it. In fact, only three people on that entire world could read it. Because of that, Airi had not coded it.

“Thank you,” Ritsuko said, tucking the letter into her shirt. “You are free to go. Say nothing to anyone of what you have seen while here,” warned the girl, turning to leave.

“Mistress, wait!” called the servant, making Ritsuko pause. “My Lady has been very worried about you,” said the servant. “She is also very important to the kingdom. Are you….?” She fell silent.

“Time will tell,” was all Ritsuko said as she left. Just outside the door, Milliea waited. Without preamble, they headed for Mike, who was parked just outside the manor. Passing the Captain, she said the woman was free to go, unharmed, but had been told not to say anything about what she had seen. Climbing onto the tank, she paused long enough to tell the woman she was doing well in following the orders she had been given and urged her to keep it up. With a rumbling roar, Mike departed, heading back to her guerrilla army in training. The whole time, Rit-chan was smiling and in a much better mood.

Annette landed the air fish at the temple, feeling tired and frustrated. She had lost Mike's tracks shortly after the tank crossed into the Southern Kingdoms. Stopping at the military's main camp, she had briefly probed for information, but when the insufferable officer started to make requests and demands, she left again. Her supplies were low, there were rituals to be performed and she knew the Bishops had screwed up somehow in her absence, so she returned to the temple.

She was barely in the door before the Bishops were on her. Ignoring their complaints and demands, she made her way to the office Celsia should have been in, but had become hers by default. Seeing a pile of scrolls and letters piled up, she groaned as the Bishops kept right on yammering at her. “Enough!” she finally yelled, quieting the Bishops.

“But Priestess Annette,” began one of the bishops. She gave the old elf a flat stare.

“I just got back, and haven't even had a chance to put my bag down and you two are already talking over each other making it impossible to understand a damn thing you are saying!” she yelled at the two. “The temple is still standing, so I doubt there is anything that can't wait until tomorrow morning. I need to clear the desk anyway,” she sighed, dropping into the chair as she more or less tossed her bag to the side.

“But Priestess,” began the other bishop, “we heard the rebellion army crushed the allied military forces…!”

“The military got handed their asses, but the rebellion army is still in the Southern Kingdoms, so basically nothing has changed,” she interrupted him. “My last stop was at their staging camps. Which reminds me,” she muttered, rummaging for a moment before finding parchment and quill. “We're pulling our mages back,” she announced, swiftly writing out her directive and then stamping it with the temple's seal. “Have that sent out immediately,” she ordered, handing the directive to the nearest Bishop. “And have my travel clothes washed and folded for me, too,” she added, taking the topmost letter from the stack and opening it.

It was some time later when she found a letter from the Raltaow kingdom. Frowning, she tried to recall if the kingdom had ever sent a single missive to the temple before. She couldn't recall any, and she had been in service there for over sixty years. Since the Raltaow kingdom was a human kingdom that meant they hadn't communicated with the Elven temple in at least a couple of reigns. It was also odd that the letter bore the seal of the Chancellor, not the King or Queen. Humming, she broke the seal, wondering why a human kingdom would be sending letters to the Temple of Common Elves. Reading the rather short message didn't clarify anything; in fact, it left her more confused than before. Re-reading it a time or two she grew suspicious that she was not seeing what the letter wanted her to know.

It was another few minutes before it hit her like a kick from Junpei: the letter spoke of the `Lady of the Holly Woods', but she knew of no such place on their world. What she did recall, however, was that Airi was supposed to be famous in the Elf Hunter's world in a place called `Hollywood'. Almost falling out of the chair, she caught her balance and began to re-read the letter, this time with different eyes. “Gods above, she's like a cat,” breathed Annette once she had finished absorbing the letter. Using a quick fire spell, she burned the letter.

For the first time in years, she had a lead. Before she could even decide where to begin the next series of moves, she felt magic gathering in the office. Head jerking up, she studied the room, swiftly spotting a patch of darkness forming in front of the desk. Bringing her hands up, she cast a protective spell on herself before waiting to see what was going to happen. Seeing the darkness form a mirror, she sighed a small sigh of relief. Gabriella appeared, a somewhat-blurry Rapier behind her right shoulder. From the look of things, the two were in a bath. “You know using a moonlight mirror spell in a temple is dangerous, Gabs,” sighed Annette.

“Worth it, this time,” shrugged the dark elf. “We found one of them,” grinned the older of the two fighting elves.

“Yeah, me, too,” Annette replied, glancing around. “Which one?” she asked the two.

“The idiot wizard,” Gabriella laughed softly. Annette twitched, her lips thinning in distaste. She had forgiven the group for tying her naked body to a log and floating it down the river, but that didn't mean she recalled the incident fondly. “Who'd you find?”

“The actress. You won't believe where she is,” sighed Annette, still disbelieving of what she had learned. “No word on the gunslinger?” she asked.

“Not a peep,” the other two elven women replied, shaking their heads. “I'm actually a little concerned about that, in fact,” confided Rapier.

“You should be,” murmured Annette, remembering what the youngest of the team was capable of. “Still nothing on Celsia?” she asked.

“Not even a whisper,” Rapier replied. “What have you been up to?”

“Following up a lead on their Iron Chariot,” Annette replied. “Tracked it from the far edges of the Middle Kingdoms to just beyond the pass into the Southern Kingdoms then lost it.”

“So we're going to war, eh?” grinned Gabriella. Annette shook her head.

“We're staying out of that one,” replied the priestess. “Did you hear that in the last battle, the alliance military was decimated and forced to pull back, ending the offensive for this year?” she asked.

“Heard some rumors,” shrugged Gabriella. “Any word from Milliea or Colleena?”

“Not in months,” Annette replied. “Where are you two?”

“Capital of the largest Northern Kingdoms kingdom, why?”

“I want you two to head back to the temple. We are changing our plans,” Annette replied. The two distant elves glanced at each other before nodding.

“See you in a bit, then. You going to try reaching Colleena and Milliea?” asked Rapier.

“If possible. I haven't had a check-in from them since the last time we all met, last year. I think Colleena had to go back to her husband or something, and you know Milliea…” she trailed off. The other two elven women nodded. Annette smiled a little. “But, on the up-side, we have found half the missing members, so we are half-way there.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Annette,” snickered Gabriella, the moonlight mirror fading away to nothing. Annette released the protective spell.

“I will, Gabs,” she sighed, looking at the letters on the desk. “Fuck it, I'm getting a bath and going to sleep,” she muttered darkly, leaving the office.

“Listen up!” called Rit-chan, her volunteer army forming up in front of her. “We have gained a powerful new ally and are going to be shifting our tactics accordingly. It is time to move to your first real field test,” she smiled at the group. “You are doing well, but you are still green. Time to pop your cherries,” she added, her tone darkening a bit. The volunteers shifted a little.

“First things first,” she continued. “Team leaders, do you have any preferences or problems with anyone you have been working with in your cells?” she asked directly. The leaders shook their heads. Rit-chan nodded.

“Good. Gather around the table,” she commanded, the group squeezing in to see the map. “Fasil, you are working solo for the moment, up here in the capital,” she said, indicating a city that served as the Allied Kingdoms `capital'. “For now, you are on recon and recruiting. Don't start anything destructive without my express orders, am I clear?” she pressed, the woman nodding. “Good. Figure out your name and cover. When you are ready, I will look it over and once I'm satisfied, you are on your way. You will have some supplies to take with you, so plan for that as well.”

Her eyes touched another group. “Ebisli, you and your group will set up shop in the western kingdoms. Dig in deep, because you are going to be there a while even if everything goes perfectly. Make sure that whatever cover you come up with stand up to some scrutiny. You are going to be contacted later by agents of our new ally, so keep that in mind. Same as before, I will need to sign off on your cover and identities before you head out.” Once more, the leader and the members of her cell nodded.

“Ok, Tasiki and your team have the east end of the Middle Kingdoms. You will have to carry the entire eastern group by yourself for the moment, so start with the ports and trade cities. It can't be helped that you will need to figure out a way to move freely between them all, and you will have to develop assets yourself. I - or an agent of our new ally - will be by to help you as soon as possible, but until then, dig in rather than set fires. Same as before for your covers. Understood?” More nods. Rit-chan nodded.

“Which just leaves you trouble-makers,” she smiled at the last cell. It was composed of the three youngest members - two girls and a fifteen year old boy who reminded her too much of Shinji - the woman closest to her in age and the last male, who was old enough to be her father. For various reasons, these were often shifted among the teams and didn't have a set role in any of them. “Lucky you get to learn how to be nobles,” she smiled at them. The former slaves blinked.

“Um, what was that, Boss?” wondered the young man. Rit-chan reached out and ruffled his hair.

“I said, you all get to learn how to be nobles,” she repeated herself. “You will be going to the kingdom of Raltaow, where you will be under the instruction of the Chancellor of that kingdom. She will teach you to how to blend in seamlessly in noble society. Once she is done, you will get to be our poison pills in the circles of nobility,” the smile she gave them made the entire group nervous.

“What about communications, Boss?” wondered the solo guerilla.

“Good question,” Rit-chan replied, taking a brush and some paper before making some marks on it. “All orders that are not given in person will be verified by this mark. Memorize it,” she ordered, showing them the mark. She pointed out the key things to focus on, explaining the differences that would indicate it was faked or copied. Once she judged they should be able to recognize it, she turned her back to them, wrote out several very similar characters and then demanded that they pick the correct one. This continued until they could all recognize her initials written in hiragana.

“We will see what you remember tomorrow morning,” Ritsuko said, glancing at the darkening sky. “For now, we celebrate!” she announced, tugging off the tarp covering some boxes on the back of Mike, which revealed ale jugs, breads, meats and fresh vegetables. Her troops cheered and swiftly processed the food for the feast. Ritsuko watched as her troops fed and drank before - inevitably - forming into couples to fuck the night away. As usual, she remained separate. Watching the Shinji-like young man decline an invitation from a girl near his age, she wondered if any of them would survive what she was sending them to do, but then reminded herself that with Airi and her working together, things shouldn't get that bad before they could end things.

“Boss,” the young man approached her. She could tell he had been fortifying his courage with a mug of ale, and didn't need to hear what he was going to ask because it was pretty obvious.

“Nothing personal, but no,” she said, giving him a half-smile. The young man swallowed before facing her.

“I know you don't form any attachments with us, and I remember you saying we probably won't live through this,” he said. “I don't expect you to love me, Boss, and I won't complain if I die because I volunteered, but my one wish - the thing I want the most before I die - is to be with you.”

Rit-chan sighed. “You need a hobby,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“It is all I will ever ask of you, Boss,” he insisted, bowing to her. Ritsuko glanced around, seeing Milliea watching them from where she was sitting by the wall to the cabin, a smile on her face. Bitch, was all she thought. She didn't know why, but she was absolutely positive that Milliea had been set up to make this happen by the girls in her group.

Of course the group had been sleeping with each other from the very start. Being slaves was not the sort of occupation that led to declarations of ever-lasting love or of marriage and family, so her army was very liberated about sex in that regard. Sex was a pleasant distraction from harsher things, and it could mean more, but rarely did. What was the point of being jealous or possessive when you were treated as a possession, to be used as the master saw fit? It had not been difficult for the slaves to notice that Ritsuko kept herself apart. It wasn't that she was a virgin - they all knew better than that - but more that she refused on some vague, ill-defined principal. The general consensus was that she didn't want to form any sort of social bond with them so when they died, it wouldn't hurt her as bad. Others speculated that she had someone she really, deeply loved somewhere out there and she was saving herself - as much as she could - for them.

And yet, the members of her army worried about her lack of sex. It had been no different with this group; in fact, because she knew all but a couple of them from her original plantation, it was worse. The women kept trying to get her laid or lay her - either way! - and the males were almost sulking that she never even gave them a chance with her. So, of course, this was the result. Rit-chan snorted softly, looking at the young man. He does remind me a lot of Shinji, she found herself thinking.

“You don't want me, kid,” she said, stepping closer to him and cupping his cheeks with her hands. “You want what I represent in your mind. You want what I am to your view of the world. And for that reason, I will have to decline.”

“I don't understand, Boss,” he said, looking almost on the verge of tears.

“I know, but you might, in time,” she answered him before impulsively leaning in to kiss him on the lips quickly. “Amilei, you put him up to this, so you will have to take responsibility,” she called out, spotting the girl covertly watching. Ritsuko saw her swiftly whisper to another of the younger girls. “Now, Amilei,” smiled Ritsuko, nudging the young man toward the girl. Amilei huffed, but strode over and collected the young man, harshly criticizing his failed attempt even as she shrugged off her clothes and pulled him to the ground near the fire. Ritsuko giggled softly, moving over to where Milliea watched, her G36 cradled in her arms.

“Don't let them manipulate you like that, Milliea,” she said, patting the elf warrior's hair.

“But they made such a good case,” protested the elf, making Ritsuko laugh.

“I'm sure they did,” she agreed. “How about we leave them to their sport and get a bath?” she suggested.

“Sure!” chirped Milliea, the two heading for the river, where they had formed a stone-lined bathing pool. Before undressing, Rit-chan used her night-vision goggles to sweep the area around them. Satisfied, she set her rifle in easy reach and stripped, finding that Milliea had removed the magic armor, which made her smile. At least our efforts were not wasted, she reflected as the two eased into the cold water. Once they were standing thigh-deep in the water, they quickly used the washcloths to clean off with the soap. After they finished, they climbed out and air-dried, sitting side by side on a boulder as the cool wind dried them.

Airi held the polite smile on her face, nodding every so often, as the king waxed eloquent about his kingdom and the mountains of gold they could make trading with each other. She had taken one look at the pinched-face bloated toad of a king and known there was nothing here for her or her puppet queen, and yet, she held to her schedule. While not listening in any great detail, she was nevertheless making a sort of list of his claims for future reference. So, how many pages are left in his professionally-written speech? She wondered to herself.

Seated beside her, Colleena was beginning to fidget a little. Airi subtly nudged her with an elbow, the elf princess stilling. Airi sipped her wine, a servant immediately refilling the goblet. A self-important ass of a king and a mediocre wine…how tedious, she mentally complained. If the king was going to be such a bore, they could have at least had good wine to keep her company.

An hour later, she had begged off for the evening, citing her need to write her Queen about the wonderful possibilities offered in trade with the kingdom. She could practically see the king and his cronies drooling. She did see their looks at her as she left. The gowns she tended to prefer for these kind of things was not exactly modest, so it was somewhat expected, but with nothing to offer her country, the sleazy looks were just disgusting. Entering her rooms, she swiftly wrote out a terse report for her Queen, sealed it and set it aside to be posted the next morning. Colleena was reading a letter that had been left in their shared room as she wrote.

“You have to head home, Colleena?” guessed Airi, making the girl twitch and blush.

“Um, yes, my husband misses me…” said the elf.

“I am sure he does,” purred Airi. “Try not to trip over the maid when you enter the bedroom,” she added, her tone vaguely sardonic and faintly waspish. Colleena blinked at the catty swipe at her husband. “Sorry, Colleena,” apologized Airi, “but tedious speeches irritate me,” she half-explained. Taking a fresh parchment, she swiftly wrote out a rather plain message before sealing it and handing it to Colleena. “Our offer for a trade agreement with your kingdom,” she said as Colleena took it.

“Um, thanks, I guess,” the elf princess replied, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “Do you think Ritsuko might send some of her army to our lands?” she asked.

“Quite possibly, yes,” Airi replied off-handedly. “But it will likely be her…special forces, as it were,” she added with a small, thin smile. Glancing at Colleena, she laughed. “Don't look so nervous! You are a friend of ours, after all,” she reminded the girl. A knock on the door interrupted Colleena's reply. One of her servants opened the door, speaking softly with whoever was outside before approaching Airi, a letter in her hand. Glancing at the letter, Airi frowned as she broke the seal.

Reading it over, she paused, thinking, before writing out a reply and sealing it. “Apparently, my Queen misses me, too,” she said to Colleena. “I assume you will be returning home tomorrow morning?” Colleena nodded. “That is fine. Be safe on the way back,” replied Airi. “But, as you return home, I need you to post a few letters as you go.”

“Hmm. This is interesting,” Rit-chan said. “They shouldn't have troops this far out.”

“Are we going around this outpost?” wondered Milliea. The two were laying on the ground, bush branches and grasses tied to their clothes, half their heads poked over the edge of the low rise separating the Southern Kingdoms with the Middle Kingdoms. The low rise fell into a wide but rather shallow river before slowly climbing toward low hills farther into the Middle Kingdoms. On the far side of the river - just to the side of the ford - was an Allied Kingdoms army outpost.

“We could, but I am not inclined to,” Rit-chan replied. In the shallow valley below them were Mike and two of her teams. They planned to split up in the kingdom on the other side of the river. She had a decision to make: to stealth it or to brute force it.

Obviously, the outpost couldn't hope to do more than die bravely against Mike, so it wasn't that they could stop her in any event. However, killing them all would gain a certain amount of attention, and she didn't need that while inserting her teams. On the other hand, if she left no survivors, there was no reason to think she was up to anything other than slaughtering them like usual, and it could make them less interested in pushing against her still-preparing Captains. Or, it could make the Alliance army think that with her outside the Southern Kingdom, her rebellion would be easy pickings and prompt an attack her Captains were still not entirely ready for. Decisions, decisions, she thought to herself.

“I could go talk to them,” offered Milliea. Rit-chan giggled softly.

“Like you talked to them before? You remember - when you nearly died?” she reminded her cheerful-yet-impaired friend. Milliea shrugged, unbothered. Ritsuko looked at her PSG1, lying next to her with two spare magazines of match ammo. Putting her binoculars back to her eyes, she studied the fort.

Built like most medieval fortifications in the field, it was rough-cut tree trunks lashed into a square palisade with a single crude tower structure to one side and bastions at each corner, a lean-to barrack/work structure was being slowly enclosed along the wall opposite the crude tower. The sally gate faced the ford landing, and there were two smaller gates - both barricaded from inside - that were opposite the main gain. Rit-chan counted approximately fifty soldiers in the fort, comprised of about thirty bowmen and about twenty footmen. She suspected from the presence of a large charger and three or four regular horses that the fort was commanded by a knight (likely of noble lineage) with a regular Knight Lieutenant rank or close to it. Her binoculars caught sight of pigeon cages at the base of the tower.

“Wow, that makes me tremble with fear,” she muttered derisively. While it might be a powerful defensive position to most, it was laughable to her. A couple of WP shells from Mike and it was a funeral pyre, and even if she didn't do that to save a few shells, her rifle could pick the men off between the cracks in the log wall easily. And yet again, if she wanted to save shells, she could just drive Mike right past them without concern, as nothing they had in the fort could even inconvenience Mike. Hell, for that matter, she could just run Mike right through the pitiful fort without a care.

Decisions, decisions, she thought to herself, her eyes once more moving to her PSG1. Tucking her binoculars away, she positioned herself behind her gun and adjusted the scope, focusing on the pair of men on top of the tower. Seeing them idly shift back and forth as they scanned the land - uselessly as they couldn't see her but she could see them - she noticed that they often overlapped, and she would bet that at the range they were, one of her rounds would punch through the first man and kill the second one as well. Then, she could transition to the other men on the wall, picking them off until they cowered behind the wall and in the tower, but the sun moving would reveal their positions and she could poke bullets between gaps in the walls to kill those men. Sixty rounds of .30 cal should leave them all dead, one way or another. And if not, well, there was Mike and his 105.

Ritsuko turned her head slightly, seeing Milliea watching her with a concerned look. Sighing, she closed the covers over her scope. “Relax, Milliea,” she said. “I don't know how close the next fort it, and we don't have to make a decision right now, so let's go back to the others and have lunch,” she said, easing back from the crest, Milliea doing the same. Once they were well and truly back from the crest, they stood and made their way down the hill to where Mike and the rest waited.

“Lunchtime,” she ordered the group, setting her PSG aside as she unlashed a box of provisions and handed out the food. It was cured meat, cheese, hard-crusted trail bread, beans and rice with ale for lunch. Ritsuko sipped some water in place of the ale and mostly chewed on the jerky-like meat after a helping of beans and rice. Milliea and the rest covertly watched her. Full, she stood and stretched.

“Ok, I want a pair of you watching the post from the crest of hill until I tell you to stop. Remember not to silhouette yourself and make sure you are concealed. I showed you how to use binoculars, so whoever is up there will use my spare pair. I want two more pairs watching our flanks. The rest are to stay near Mike and rest so when their turn comes, they are fresh. Understood?” she asked. The group nodded.

“What about you, Boss?” asked the youngest girl. Rit-chan patted the ten-year-old's head fondly.

“Milliea and I are taking a little walk,” she said, easily climbing up onto Mike. Seeing her exchange her PSG for her G36, they wondered what she was up to. Ritsuko handed the Team Leader one of the M16s and a pair of magazines. “Only if attacked, understood?” she warned, getting a nod. The elf hunter patted Mike's hard side. “Be good, Mike!” she called out sweetly, getting a meow! from the tank. “Come on, Milliea, let's walk off that meal,” she encouraged, the armored elf joining her as they headed along the base of the rise. Her fighters swiftly got organized and settled in to wait for their Boss to return.

It was dusk when Ritsuko and Milliea returned. Taking some more jerky and helping herself to the wild vegetable and rice porridge, Rit-chan quickly ate, saying little to the group. Milliea ate as well. When she was done, she asked for the report on activity in the fort, and was told that the fort had sent out two patrols, one shortly after she left, the other just before the sun dipped below the horizon. In both cases, the patrols had consisted of four footmen and a mounted soldier. One patrol had checked the banks of the river on the fort's side, while the other had crossed the ford, then checked the banks on that side for a relatively short distance before resting for more than an hour once they were out of sight of the fort. Rit-chan snorted, a dangerous grin on her face.

None of the patrols had tried to approach the spot where Mike waited, over the saddle of the rolling hill and down the road a bit. The watch on the tower had not changed either, and the ten year-old had added that one of the two guards had gotten comfortable in a corner and dozed during his shift. She had spent her watch beside the Shinji-like young man, and he had noted that a group of laborers had brought in three wagon loads of logs about two hours before nightfall. He also reported that he thought he had heard the sound of trees falling in the woods behind the fort, but couldn't be sure.

“Interesting,” mused Rit-chan, absently checking the small, semi-enclosed fire the group had set. “Milliea, can you swim in that armor?” she asked after a moment of thought. Milliea nodded.

“Yeah, but not very well,” she replied.

“I can swim like a fish, Boss!” volunteered the youngest girl.

“Me, too!” the young man added hastily.

“I asked Milliea,” replied Rit-chan blandly.

“You always take Milliea with you,” pouted the young girl, getting nods from the group. “Don't you trust us, Boss?” she added.

“I trust you,” replied Rit-chan as she stood and climbed on top of Mike, “but you all have specific tasks and jobs to perform. Milliea and I are more…flexible,” she added, pulling out her pack. Without a moment's hesitation, she stripped off her normal clothes before donning a pair of black pants, a black tee shirt, a black over-shirt and boots. After lacing up her boots, she swiftly braided her hair and tied it up before pulling a black hat on and fishing out a wide belt with various things on it. “Bit loose on me now,” she muttered, scowling, as she fastened the belt and checked her clothes.

“But Boss!” protested the girl.

“Enough,” Rit-chan cut off the protest. “Maybe next time,” she added, ruffling the girl's hair. “Keep watch on the fort, we'll be back,” she said, Milliea rising and following Ritsuko into the dim forest past the turn to the ford.

“What are we doing, Rit-chan?” wondered Milliea.

“Just going to see what is happening behind the fort,” smiled Rit-chan. A half hour later, she found a good spot and led Milliea down into the river, finding the current was stronger than it looked, but not unmanageable. The two reached the far bank and spent a half hour resting before climbing up the modest bank and heading into the woods. Once they were deep enough into the woods, they curved back toward the fort, being nearly two kilometers behind it. Rit-chan lead, her night-vision goggles on and her G36 in her hands. Milliea adjusted her eyes for the darkness, the cat-slit elven eyes dilating to make the forest almost bright to her eyes.

Through the trees, Ritsuko spotted the bright spots of fires banked for the night. Signaling, she and her partner sank down silently to study the situation. Minutes later, they rose to half-crouches and moved slowly forward, one step at a time, eyes sharp for lookouts or sentries. With hand signs, Ritsuko signaled her intentions, Milliea nodding as the two worked around the perimeter of the logging camp to get a better idea of what they were looking at.

The camp had about fifty laborers, a few wagons, about fifteen work horses, and no real security, though there were two men stationed by the low fires, tending to them and apparently keeping an eye out for predators after the horses, if the crude spears by their sides were any indication. Comprising most of the camp were four large framed tents and a latrine pit. After a half hour of observation, Ritsuko signaled her partner and the two worked their way around the perimeter until they were relatively close to the guard furthest away from the tents. The two settled in.

The guard eventually roused from his near-sleep and made his way toward the tree line, one hand already freeing his dick. Ritsuko slowly, methodically slung her G36 and tightened the sling to keep it from making any sounds before she eased out her sheath knife and prepared herself. The man stopped about ten feet to the side of them, just even with the first tree in the tree line and drained his lizard. Ritsuko slipped forward, knife ready, while the man was absorbed in his work. He had barely shook it off and tucked it away before she sprang up, her hand going over his nose and mouth while her other hand drove the hilt of the sheath knife behind his ear, knocking him out. Rit-chan gave a soft grunt as his weight dropped on her. Shifting a little, she dragged him back into the tree line before securing his hands and mouth. Prepared, she hefted him into a fireman carry and made her way back toward the river, Milliea watching their backs. No hue and cry came from the camp as they vanished into the night.

In the morning, Ritsuko's group found a bound, gagged, blindfolded, naked prisoner tied to a tree and Ritsuko and Milliea cuddled up in her tent, both sleeping. Unsure of when the two had returned - and how they had slipped past their watch posts - the group waited for their Boss to awaken. To pass the time, they examined the prisoner, finding indications that their Boss had questioned the man firmly. There was also a bandaged cut on his arm that didn't look like torture to them, but also didn't look accidental, either.

The smell of cooking food awoke the two. Seeing a few of her crew harassing the prisoner, she shooed them off, telling them to feed him but otherwise not bother him; he wasn't a prisoner, just a detainee. When asked what she needed with him, she had just shaken her head and said nothing. This only immediately made the women begin to whisper about the chance that Boss might have used him for stress relief because his dick was bigger than the other men's dicks. Upon hearing this, the men in her group had been rather upset. Groaning, she ordered her minions to stop jumping to conclusions and in any event, she had standards, damn it! Sensing their Boss was cranky, they let it go, though the men kept shooting dirty looks at the prisoner while the women kept whispering to each other out of Ritsuko's ear-shot.

Ritsuko took the watch on the fort, Milliea settling next to her unasked. The two stayed up there until noon before coming back down to eat. The youngest of the girls was feeding the prisoner. Ritsuko ordered someone to keep an eye on the fort, then dozed for a few hours on Mike. Milliea did the same, the hours passing. A few hours before the sun would set, Ritsuko stirred and made her way to the OP overlooking the hill. The team on site - the young man and the girl closest to Ritsuko's age - stayed, wondering what their Boss was looking for.

Spotting the wood delivery wagons arrive, Ritsuko positioned her PSG1 and got ready, but left the gun on safe. After the wagons were unloaded of their tree trunks, the logging camp leader talked with a fancily-dressed officer for a few minutes before leaving. Ritsuko hummed to herself. “Anyone in or out except for the patrols today?” she asked.

“No, Boss,” came the answer.

“Any sign of alarm or heightened vigilance?”

“No, Boss.”

“All right then,” smiled Ritsuko before returning to their camp. Before feeding the captive, she mixed in some herbs with his food. With that done, she told the group to get ready. Taking a small black satchel, she placed several items in it before giving the team leader his orders. He nodded, and Ritsuko and Milliea headed out.

“Boss!” protested the youngest girl. Ritsuko paused, frowning.

“Ok, if you are so insistent,” she said, her tone making the girl a bit uneasy. “Do not fall behind or compromise us,” warned the older red-head as the youngest of her army hurried after the two. In short order, the two had found the spot they crossed at last time and prepared to swim it again. The girl took off her dress and tightly folded and wrapped it, leaving her naked save for her leather sandals. Tossing her head, the three swam the river again, Ritsuko having to help the girl against the currents. After a rest, she led the team into the woods. Once in positions, they waited, Ritsuko checking her watch. Once satisfied, she took one of the devices out of her bag, pulled a pin and released a handle, the device giving off a soft bang before hissing, smoke emerging from it thick and fast. Tossing it to the side, Ritsuko immediately prepared another, then a third and a forth before signaling the group, who moved into the thick smoke as it drifted through the trees to envelope the fort.

It wasn't hard to infiltrate to the wall of the fort, where Ritsuko used a length of rope to lasso the top of a post. Hearing the call of an owl, she swiftly tied a loop in the rope, and a few moments later, five figured emerged from the gloom and smoke. Touching each on the shoulder, Ritsuko swiftly climbed the rope and got over the top of the wall, landing on the narrow parapet walkway. She pulled out a small wooden club wrapped in thin leather and stalked toward a parapet, two more of her team topping the wall and moving off in the opposite direction.

Reaching the parapet, she eased up behind the guard, who seemed bored and tired, and insured he slept very well by smacking him across the back of the head with her club before easing him down and moving toward the next parapet. She could hear the guards on top of the tower wondering about the strange-smelling mist. Ritsuko put the second lookout to sleep before easing down the ascent ramp and making her way to the base of the tower, near the pigeon cages. Pulling out a cloth-wrapped item from her bag, she positioned it under and behind the pigeon cages before carefully pouring some liquid from a small vial over it and making her way back to the parapet, checking her luminous watch face. Seeing the time, she gave an owl's call before heading for the rope.

Once all her team was back over the wall, she slipped over as well, leaving behind the naked, ale-soaked detainee on the parapet walkway, the end of the rope tied loosely around his wrist. With that done, the team withdrew down the road before Ritsuko pulled a radio from her bag. “Mike, it's time!” she said into the radio. Almost instantly, she heard the faint sound of the tank's diesel starting up and then the splash of the armored vehicle hitting the water of the ford. Moments later, she heard the sound of shouting from the fort, but Mike was already past them. Waving her arm, she and her crew mounted up. “Mike, Willy Pete round, air burst fuse,” she ordered, the autoloader loading the shell. Using the manual controls, she turned the turret and fired, the shell exploding in a shower of glowing, burning-hot streamers halfway to the logging camp. It didn't take long for the forest to catch fire as Mike roared away, Ritsuko giggling as she watched the light of the fire die down behind them.

“Annette,” greeted Rapier as she and Gabriella entered the boarding house room.

“Rapier, Gabs,” the elf priestess greeted the two.

“Why here and not at the temple?” wondered Gabriella.

“Because the temple is being watched by the military after that little incident at the border,” came Annette's reply, along with a sigh.

“We heard some rumors,” Rapier said. “Something about an attack on a fort by supporters of the slave army?”

“Maybe, but the army is divided about the cause of the incident. Beside the sound of thunder and strange marks on the road and ford banks, there is no sign it was the slave army, and no one was killed, which makes it even less likely the Rebellion is behind it, given their last few battles with the army has left a mountain of corpses. There are reports that a drunken laborer was found in the fort, having supposedly climbed the wall somehow, but why was he naked and why would he even think to try that? Also, the pigeons were all dead, apparently poisoned by some sort of gas from a crudely-made device. The forest fire was also strange, but there were no signs of anything starting it, so it might have been a lightning strike. The military high command is arguing about it to this day, but they are showing signs of preparing for next spring's offensive, and they want more mages and magic users, so they are watching the temple,” Annette filled the two in.

“Well, that is new,” grunted Gabriella.

“I have also received letters from Colleena. Airi is more or less in charge of the Raltaow kingdom,” she shared blandly. The two blinked.

“She took over a kingdom?” Rapier wondered.

“Apparently,” sighed Annette. “But more worrisome is the news that she and Ritsuko have been branded with the Slave Rune spell.”

“So was Junpei, so we can presume that Celsia was hit as well,” Gabriella replied. “That isn't good,” she added grimly.

“Apparently, Airi eliminated her master before he could transfer control to anyone, and it is likely that Ritsuko would do the same. Colleena reports that Airi believes it is Ritsuko leading the Slave Army; and that Airi is worried Ritsuko is losing control of her anger. Six years as a slave is certainly not going to amuse her,” Annette shared.

“No, it will not,” came a voice from the door. The three started, seeing a bar maid there. Before any of them could react, the bar maid peeled off her face, revealing Airi as she closed the door behind her.

“Airi!” breathed the three elves. She gave them all polite smiles.

“Annette, Gabriella, Rapier,” she greeted them. “Colleena had to go pacify her husband, and we can't find Milliea, but if she was headed south, she might have found Ritsuko. My information said the leader of the Rebellion disappeared months ago, so Rit-chan could well be starting up guerrilla warfare,” she said, taking a seat at the small table.

“What?” blinked the three elves.

“Trust me, you do not want to know,” Airi replied. “We need to link up with her before she turns this entire continent into hell itself. To that ends, we need to start raising support for the Rebellion in the kingdoms so the Kingdom Alliance will have to recognize the Rebellion and grant all the slaves freedom.”

“Never happen,” came the cynical reply from Gabs.

“Then the kingdoms will burn,” replied Airi simply. “Rit-chan will not let this go, and she won't forgive that ass of a noble either,” warned the actress.

“But Rit-chan never seemed that vicious,” Rapier said. “I recall how often she was smiling and joking around,” argued the fighter.

“Ritsuko is usually a sweet, kind girl, yes,” Airi said, pouring herself some wine, “but she has some dark things in her; things that have been growing in strength since the last failure of the Sarat ended with her feeling like she had been forced to abandon friends and the boy she loved,” Airi said.

“Ritsuko fell in love?” blinked Rapier. This was news to all of them.

“Whether she knows it or not, she did,” confirmed Airi. “We all got too close to them, but she…” Airi shook her head. “She came back different, shall we say, and leave it at that. And then, this thing…” Airi paused to drink from her glass of wine. “Very nice choice in wine, ladies,” she smiled.

“But what can she really do by herself? The Rebellion army is dug-in in the Southern Kingdoms and she is apparently on her own,” Rapier suggested.

“If Mike found her, she can overthrow every kingdom on this continent,” grunted Airi. “And if I know her, she has found supporters she can teach certain things to, and who will make the kingdoms burn for her.”

“This guerrilla warfare thing?” Annette replied. Airi nodded. “But surely not all the kingdoms…”

“Imagine how the kingdoms will fare if roads, bridges, aqueducts, ports and towers are destroyed, guards are ambushed and killed in small to medium groups, if food and waters are poisoned, if nobles and lords are assassinated, if random attacks on civilians cause casualties and all without any tangible enemy to fight or even find,” Airi said. “That is guerrilla warfare and insurgency, and my Rit-chan has studied it well.”

“Economic collapse, panic, public disorder…what kind of demon would do that to the kingdoms?” breathed Annette.

“The kind of demon who doesn't react well to being made a slave,” Airi said, pulling her top off so the others could see her marking. The three elves gasped.

“Is Ritsuko marked like that?” wondered Gabriella.

“Not last time I saw her, but she has the Slave Rune,” Airi answered, point out her own slave rune mark. “Gods only know what has happened to her since that might just make her…unhappy,” the actress grimaced, pouring herself more wine.

“How did this happen?” wondered Rapier. Airi told them what she knew of how they had been ambushed. “And the last I saw of her was when I was taken to be sold,” finished the woman. “Fortunately, I was able to turn my situation to my advantage rather easily,” she finished with graceful understatement.

“No kidding,” snorted Rapier.

“Well, enough fond memories,” Airi dismissed the previous discussion, “let's talk about these Slave Runes and how we can find Ritsuko before she goes terminal.”

“Rit-chan, isn't that the servant from before?”

Ritsuko turned her head, looking where Milliea was looking. Spotting the woman, she frowned. “Looks like her,” allowed the younger of the two. “Let's see where she goes,” decided Ritsuko, tossing the merchant of the fruit stand a silver piece as she bit into the pear she had selected, two more in her shoulder bag. She and Milliea were in a town on the way to the Temple of Celsia, and had stopped to get some provisions. The day before, the last team had split off from her, leaving her with the team she planned to hand over to Airi for training. Both women wore traveler's cloaks, hoods up, as they shopped. Ritsuko had already put on her familiar skirt and school blouse before she thought better of it, exchanging it for a raw cotton material shirt that reminded her of the poncho-smocks she had worn as a slave, but with actual sides to it and a knee-skirt in crudely-stained felt. She refused to wear the local shoes, though she did slip a pair of leather over-shoes on her sneakers, making the colorful shoes far less noticeable. Milliea had sheathed her swords, though not without some difficulty from the spell on the armor and swords. For the most part, she rested her hands on the hilts of the twin long swords, looking not unlike a restless mercenary or body guard.

Under her cloak, Ritsuko had her G36 slung side-body and her spare pistol - the USP she had taken with her from their side-trip - secured to her lower back in a horizontal configuration. Trick her once, shame on them, trick her twice, it was bullet to the face for them. Mike had been left outside town, but within range of the main cannon just in case. A radio was tucked into the bag she wore cross-body as well. The two meandered after the woman.

Seeing the woman duck into a hotel, they waited a few moments before entering themselves. Looking into the main room, they didn't see her, so they headed for the bar in the corner. Taking seats, they ordered drinks - cool cider for Ritsuko, ale for Milliea - Ritsuko asked if a friend of theirs was staying there, describing the woman she had seen in the Southern Kingdoms who had given her the letter from Airi. The barman thought for a bit, then nodded, giving them the room number. The two thanked him, left a generous tip and headed up to the rooms. As she cleared the stairs to the second story, Ritsuko pulled her pistol free, getting a frown from Milliea. “Better safe than sorry, Milliea,” murmured the teen, finding the door. Thumbing back the hammer to single action, she rapped on the door with her off-hand's knuckles.

“Yes?” came an answer.

“Maid service,” called back Ritsuko, “your bath is ready.”

“There must be some mistake. I did not order a bath yet,” came the answer from inside, along with the faint sounds of feet moving toward the door.

“The manager told us it was for this room, miss,” Ritsuko replied calmly. The door opened a little, Ritsuko recognizing the woman.

“I didn't…” began the woman, only to have Ritsuko slam her shoulder into the door, driving her back even as she leapt on top of the woman as she sprawled out on the floor, her pistol in the woman's face even as her hand covered the woman's mouth.

“One sound and you are dead,” snarled Ritsuko. Milliea stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. The woman nodded slightly, and Ritsuko carefully got up, the gun never leaving the woman's head.

“Mistress Inoue,” the woman said softly.

“What is your name, servant?” demanded Ritsuko.

“I am Persephone, body servant to Chancellor Airi of the kingdom of Raltaow,” the woman introduced herself.

“Why are you here? Raltaow is to the west,” asked Ritsuko, absently de-cocking the USP as she kept it in hand, but at the low ready position.

“I am attempting to rejoin Mistress Airi on her tour of the kingdoms,” Persephone replied. She remembered her Mistress's warning about how moody the girl could be, and her unimaginable success with the slave rebellion told her that the woman had a capacity for violence far beyond anything she could imagine.

“Airi ordered this?” asked Ritsuko simply. The servant nodded, not elaborating on the situation. “What is her schedule?” asked Ritsuko. The servant considered that for a moment, but when she saw Ritsuko's eyes begin to narrow, she promptly decided it wasn't worth trying to stand up to this red-headed nightmare.

After hearing the stops, Ritsuko weighed the choices before her against what she knew of how Airi usually worked. “You are traveling with us now, Persephone. Grab your things, we are leaving immediately for the Temple,” ordered Rit-chan standing and tucking the gun away.

“Of course, but why…?” began the servant.

“Because we cover ground a hell of a lot faster than you do.”

“I have a horse I bought to find you…” began the woman.

“Sell it or leave it. It can't keep up and we can get another later if we need,” came the distracted reply. “Hurry up and grab your pack,” urged Ritsuko, pulling a map from her bag and studying it for a moment before nodding. Persephone finished throwing her things into the travel pack. Without another word, the three left, the servant following Milliea as she followed Ritsuko.

The stable where she had put the horse up was willing to take it off their hands for an insultingly low price, but Ritsuko didn't argue beyond telling the man he shouldn't expect to get fortunate every time he tried to rip someone off. The man - seeing Milliea's hands on her sword hilts - coughed up a couple of extra gold on the spot. Ritsuko took the money, the three leaving immediately. Ritsuko handed Persephone the money for the horse even as they moved through the market, the red-headed rebel swiftly filling her bag and Milliea's bag with food before leading the somewhat-cowed servant out of the village.

“New friend?” asked the teenage boy that reminded her of Shinji.

“Something like that. Mount up,” ordered Ritsuko, tossing her bag to the man. Her soldiers obeyed immediately. “We're eating on the run, so dig in,” she said, settling into the driver's compartment. “Oh, and Persephone? Do not touch anything, understood?”

“Yes, mistress Inoue,” the servant replied obediently.

“Until further notice, you only call me `Boss',” grunted Ritsuko as Mike cranked up and headed out at cruising speed along the edges of the fields and occasional track. The sun set, but they didn't stop, Mike using his headlights as they roared along. Persephone began to have an entirely new understanding of how powerful `Boss' could be, if her iron chariot could move faster than most horses could run without ever tiring. The others got more or less comfortable inside Mike and on the hull, using packs and supply containers to make safe beds. Ritsuko remained in the driving compartment while Milliea preferred to sit in the commander station, watching the scenery fly by.

As dawn was beginning to color the sky to their right, Ritsuko slowed Mike, then directed the tank into a stand of trees before Mike's diesel went silent and Ritsuko stretched. “We're here,” she said. “Let's get the camouflage set up and eat before I take care of business,” directed Rit-chan, her team doing so without comment.

An hour and a half later, they were heading into the town with the other farmers and laborers and traders and craftsmen. The group drifted around the market a bit, then through the town center before heading for the temple. As the rest loitered in different pairs, Persephone and the girl entered the temple. A half hour later, they emerged, joining up with the others after they had wound their way through the market again so Ritsuko could check for tails. With that done, they had sat down to lunch, her teams spread out around them at other tables and other bistros, eyes peeled for unusual activity while their Boss talked.

“Annette was at the temple,” murmured the young girl. “You didn't tell me she was the high priestess, though, Boss,” she almost pouted.

“Celsia is the high priestess,” shrugged Ritsuko. “Or she was. Maybe she got excommunicated from the temple.” For some reason, the former slave and elf hunter didn't sound upset about that possibility.

“Be that as it may, we said what you said to say and she gave us a charm talisman and sent us away,” Persephone said, showing the charm to Ritsuko. The elf hunter quickly looked it over before folding it different ways until she suddenly smiled.

“That's my senpai,” she breathed, relief evident in her tone. “Come on, we're going to see some friends,” she said, making discreet eye contact with the other teams before heading out. The groups drifted through the town as if they were just going with the flow of the masses. Finally, Ritsuko led her party into a boarding house, quietly making her way to a room. Knocking quietly, she waited a moment before opening the door.

“Ritsuko,” smiled Rapier, who had been sitting on the bed, her hair loose and a brush in her hands. Ritsuko gave her a smile as her eyes flickered around the room. “Airi is attending to some business at the court,” Rapier said, sensing how tense Ritsuko was. “Gabriella will be back soon, though - she's taking a bath at the bath house down the street.”

“Colleena?” asked Ritsuko, moving around the room as Milliea entered.

“Had to go see her husband,” Rapier answered.

“Rapier!” squealed Milliea, lunging at the dark-haired elf, arms wide open. Rapier twisted out of the way of the two swords before Milliea captured her in a tight hug. “It's so good to see you!” gushed the swordswoman.

“Um, yeah, Milliea,” Rapier said. “Would you mind letting me go now? You're hugging me,” she reminded the sword fighter.

“Oh! Sorry,” apologized Milliea releasing the other elf.

“Who are these people with you?” asked Rapier, seeing that Ritsuko was still restlessly checking out the room. “You are safe here, Rit-chan. Take off your cloak and have a glass of wine,” she suggested, nodding to the bottle on the table.

“You know I don't drink,” muttered Ritsuko, removing her cloak. The fighter blinked at the guns strapped and slung to her body. She also spotted the sheath knife tied to the girl's thigh with leather strips.

“Actually, no, I don't know,” replied Rapier beginning to brush her hair. “Introductions?” she reminded the girl, her eyes watching her carefully.

“Persephone, servant to Airi. The kid is one of mine,” she added.

“Your what?” wondered Rapier. She's too old to be a child of Ritsuko, thought Rapier.

“One of mine, ok, Rapier?” Ritsuko replied, her tone a bit sharp.

“Rit-chan,” Milliea said, giving the elf hunter a look. Ritsuko sighed, finally sitting down; and immediately swinging her G36 into her arms, eyes still wandering around the room.

“Sorry,” muttered Ritsuko, but her eyes never stopped moving and her hands didn't move from their positions on the carbine.

“I noticed a lot of soldiers for a temple town,” the young girl spoke up.

“Military wants magic users from the temple, but Annette stonewalled them, so they are trying to keep tabs on her,” Ritsuko replied without looking at the young girl. “After I sniped those mages last year, few magicians will volunteer for combat,” she chuckled darkly.

Rapier assessed Ritsuko, her mind playing back what Airi had said about being worried that she was losing control of her anger. We might have a problem, she thought to herself. Glancing at the young girl, she could see the worship in her eyes as she watched Ritsuko. Persephone's eyes showed guarded worry, but she wasn't sure that it wasn't about Airi, given the devotion the actress seemed to inspire in her underlings and puppets. “So, we talked with Airi a few days ago,” shared Rapier casually, still brushing her hair as she talked. “Slave Rune spell, huh? Might take some doing to get it off you all. Junpei has one, too,” she shared.

“Yeah, whatever,” snorted Ritsuko. “Not like there is enough upstairs to make it necessary to put one on him. Where is he? Fighting in some arena games?” she smirked.

“Matter of fact, yes. Undefeated champion for six years,” Rapier said.

“He must be having fun,” came her cutting reply, her eyes hardening. “You two spring the muscle-headed jerk?” she asked.

“No, we decided it was best to leave him until we needed him or we find a solution for the Slave Rune issue,” Rapier said.

“I have a solution,” was the dark retort from Ritsuko.

“Killing the mage that cast it won't remove it,” warned Rapier.

“I didn't think it would, but slow-roasting that ass-licking fuck-head will make me feel a lot better about the last six years,” Ritsuko nearly purred.

“Is that what has you so angry, Ritsuko?” came a voice from the door. Before the first word was finished, Ritsuko had dove out of the chair, rolling across the floor and ending in a crouch with her G36 tucked tight to her shoulder, finger on the trigger, her sights on the center of Gabriella's fur bikini top. “You want to feel better about six years as a slave?”

“No, Gabriella,” Ritsuko replied through a clenched jaw, “I want to annihilate that fucking noble and everything he ever held dear. Then I might feel less `angry'!”

“And you will kill or destroy anything or anyone who gets in your way, won't you? I know this pattern, Ritsuko,” warned Gabriella, entering the room and tossing her towel aside. “That was me, several centuries ago. Trust me, it won't make you feel better,” the dark elf added, slowly moving closer to Ritsuko, whose eyes were slitted and her face dark. “Talk with Airi before you light this fuse, Ritsuko,” said Gabriella, slowly hugging the girl. “And welcome back,” she murmured in the ear of the human girl.

“You sure act all self-righteous, elf,” the young girl said, glaring at the dark elf. “What do you know of how Boss feels?! Were you ever a slave? And while you might consider six years to be the blink of an eye, for a human, it is a long time!”

“Enough,” Rit-chan said, prodding Gabriella, who released her hug. “When is Airi coming by? If she is at court, maybe I should just go see her there…” she thought aloud.

“And lose not only your best ally, but everything Airi has done in the last six years as well,” warned Rapier.

“I'm not an idiot, Rapier,” hissed back Ritsuko. “When is she coming to see me? If she going to be busy for weeks or months, there is work to be done in that time,” muttered the girl.

“She is coming here after dark,” answered Rapier. Ritsuko turned to Persephone, but Gabriella beat her to the mark.

“Even sending a servant to the court would cause problems. You have waited six years, Ritsuko. You can make it a few more hours. Have you eaten? How about some wine?” she asked.

“I don't drink,” came back the reply. “But being in this room makes me nervous with the number of soldiers around. I will be in the common room. Come on, kid,” she said, the two departing as Ritsuko settled her cloak. Milliea started to leave as well, but Gabriella touched her shoulder, stopping the elf while Rapier held up her hand, stopping Persephone from leaving as well.

“How long has she been like this?” asked Gabriella of the two.

“Since I met her,” Persephone answered promptly.

“It's been a rough couple of days. She just needs some sleep and a good meal or two,” Milliea said, smiling easily.

“This goes beyond a couple of rough days, Milliea,” sighed Gabriella.

“We need to know what happened to her while she was a slave on that plantation,” Rapier noted, making the older elf nod. “But you can bet your life the girl and any of the others won't say a word; probably not even if you tortured them,” she sighed.

“They wouldn't; it would be betraying Rit-chan,” chirped Milliea.

“Pity you can't tell us what happened to her during that time,” Gabriella said, sitting beside Rapier. Milliea shrugged, still smiling. “Stick with her, Milliea,” Gabs said, tossing her head toward the door. “Try to keep her from melting down in town, at the very least.”

“Ritsuko wouldn't do that,” Milliea insisted as she exited the room.

“Could have fooled me,” Rapier replied.

“Um, there are several others with her like that girl,” Persephone offered. “They all seem to be sort of like Mistress Inoue, too.”

“Surprised you are willing to risk telling us that,” chuckled Gabriella.

“I fear Mistress Inoue might be a threat to Mistress Airi,” Persephone replied quietly. The two elves exchanged looks. So, Persephone is brainwashed by Airi like that girl is by Ritsuko. What kind of demons are these outworlders? they thought in unison.

“Well, they can only kill you once, so tell us more,” invited Gabriella, pouring herself a cup of the wine, Persephone helping herself to a cup as well. Hm, this is good wine, thought the dark elf as Persephone told them what she knew of the group.

“Airi has her work cut out for her,” sighed Gabriella an hour later.

“You aren't kidding,” Rapier agreed. “Hope we live through this catastrophe.”

“I don't trust that maid, Boss,” murmured the youngest of her volunteer sappers. Ritsuko hummed, picking out her team members scattered through the commons room.

“I don't either, but we let it play and see what happens,” murmured the elf hunter. “Besides, you could end up being trained by her, kid,” she half-smiled at the girl, who blinked before sipping her cup of tea. The girl frowned.

“You said an ally would be training us,” she almost-argued. Ritsuko nodded.

“Yes, but she might have some of her people help train you, since she seems to be pretty busy with her own affairs right now,” mused the leader.

The door opened and a small group of soldiers entered the room. Ritsuko's hand fell to her G36 under her cloak. The soldiers headed to the bar, ordering ale and food before looking for an open table. Ritsuko sipped some of her water, watching them discreetly over the rim of her cup. She spotted two of her team members start to shift like they were going to come over to her table to fill it, but she signaled them to stay where they were. Moving would only draw attention to her.

Spotting Ritsuko, one of the men nudged another, pointing to her. Ritsuko disengaged the safety on her carbine. Ok, if you want to do this, let's play, she thought darkly, even as she maintained her pleasant expression. The soldiers drifted her way, with most of the party `acquiring' a table from some civilian men while three of them approached Ritsuko's table. Without asking, two of them sat in the open chairs. “Hey there, pretty,” smiled the one who had spotted her. Ritsuko's eyes narrowed a little.

“Not interested,” she replied flatly, leaning back a bit in her chair.

“Don't be like that,” the man dismissed her warning. “What's your name?”

“Mom said to keep my name, so I will take her advice,” Rit-chan replied, ice in her voice. The man's companions snickered at that.

“So, what brings you here, gorgeous? I know I'd remember seeing a girl like you anywhere,” he kept right on ignoring the signals.

“Passing through,” was all he got in response. The bar maid approached with the food the two girls had ordered.

“Ah, having dinner, I see,” the man smiled. “Barmaid, bring my drink and food here,” he ordered. “And bring the girl another ale,” he added.

“Pass,” was all Ritsuko said, locking gazes with the bar maid, the look in her eyes making the older woman flinch. The woman half-curtseyed and fled. This is going to be one of those nights, she thought sourly, pausing to whisper to the bar keep. The large man sighed before gesturing to a couple of rough men by the door. They made their way over and the barkeep murmured to them before jutting his chin toward the table with the women and the soldiers. The men nodded, keeping their eyes on the table.

Ritsuko was eating, ignoring the men entirely, her right hand still hidden under her cloak, finger resting on the trigger guard of her G36. Beside her, her minion did the same, her eyes staring daggers at the men. Seeing that he wasn't making any headway, the man reached over to grab Ritsuko's left hand - the hand she was using to eat. “Stop being so cold, girl,” he huffed. Ritsuko jerked her hand away before he could grab it, resulting in him spilling her heavy stew.

“Fuck off, shitheads,” snarled Ritsuko, her eyes burning with anger. The men blinked, unused to be addressed like that.

“You would be better served not talking to us like that,” began the first.

“All you want is to fuck my big sister,” snorted the girl, standing. “Well you bunch of retards aren't worthy of her!” she declared. Ritsuko saw that her little follower had palmed the knife she had been using to cut her meat with. So she's going to stab one of them in the hand, which will leave me to clear the rest of them, predicted Ritsuko. Yeah, I can do that. We'll use the shock to exit, and the rest of my team will be innocent bystanders and link up later. She shifted her left arm a little to position the G36 for a fast deployment even as she clicked the fire select from semi to full auto.

“Excuse me,” came Milliea's voice, the elf warrior stopping behind the three men. “But you are in my seat.” The three soldiers turned to look at Milliea, her armor and swords very visible. Her friendly smile was at odds to the hardware, though.

“I don't see your name on it, long-ears,” the leader of the trio grunted. The room quieted. `Long-ears' was considered by many to be a derogatory term for elf, after all, and the Temple of Celsia was on the other side of town. Milliea kept smiling.

“But it is my seat nevertheless,” she replied. “Besides, you are bothering my friends,” added the elf.

“The girls aren't bothered, are you?” he demanded of the two.

“Your very existence is a bother, lackey,” bit back Ritsuko. “Leave while you can,” she added, her tone curled and dangerously soft. The man stood, his hand seizing the hilt of his sword. “You do not want to try that, shithead,” snarled Ritsuko, eyes glowing with anger. Go ahead - pull that blade on my Milliea-chan! I'll go The Chicago Way on your ass! She thought to herself. Her mind replayed the scene from Untouchables. `He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He puts one of yours in the hospital, you put one of his in the morgue. That's the Chicago way!' Heh! Good advice, she thought.

“She's right about that, you know. It wouldn't be wise to pull a sword on me,” agreed Milliea chirpily, the smile still in place. “My armor is ensorcelled; so are my swords. I tend to cut things up without meaning to,” she said, sounding apologetic.

Ritsuko giggled. “Yes, you do at that,” she agreed, her tone amused. “So be smart and fuck off like the good little sword fodder you are, boys,” she warned darkly. The three guards looked to their companions, who were looking around the room. Everyone was silent and watching them, including the two bouncers. The three men gave the girls a sneer.

“Fucking lesbians,” the leader said as the three left the room.

“Have a good night!” Milliea called after them sweetly, making the room burst into laughter. Even the other soldiers were snorting. Milliea took one of the chairs. “You ok, Ritsuko?” she asked.

“Fine,” came the even reply. “Sit down and finish eating, little sister” she ordered her soldier, the girl doing as told. Seeing the bar maid approach, she safed her G36 before fishing a couple of coins from the pouch she had on, handing them to the bar maid. “Sorry for the trouble. This should cover the loss of their business, and can you bring me another water and a fresh bowl of stew?”

“Of course, miss,” the woman said, bowing. After a few minutes, the bouncers drifted back to their post by the door, the room returning to normal. When she was done, Ritsuko got a room for herself, just down the hall from the one where she was hoping to meet Airi. She saw the lone male from her team get another one across from hers. Heading up the stairs, she stopped by the room that Rapier and Gabriella were in, telling them to come get her as soon as Airi came before heading to her room to try and rest. Her `little sister' stuck to her like glue; as did Milliea.

In the room, she used the radio to make sure Mike hadn't gotten distracted chasing small prey items or run into any dogs before telling him to stay put and she would be back soon. With that done, she took off her cloak and got comfortable in the corner, telling Milliea and her agent they could take the beds. Milliea had settled next to her, with her young agent all but cuddling up to her other side. Snorting as she rolled her eyes, she put an arm around the young girl, leaned herself against Milliea, and was asleep in moments, her right hand still loosely gripping the grip of her G36.

A soft knock woke her instantly, Ritsuko springing up, gun ready. Blinking as her two companions stood, she realized there were tear streaks on her cheeks. Angrily wiping them away with the back of her hand, she cracked the door enough to verify it was Rapier before swirling her cloak around her and moving to the room the kickboxer and the dark elf shared. Opening the door, she spotted Airi sitting at the table with Persephone, but found herself hesitating, gun still in hand. “Airi?” she breathed.

The dark-haired woman turned to look at her, smiling. Lift her shirt, she exposed her marked midriff. “Yes, Rit-chan, it's me. It's good to see you again,” she said warmly, standing. Rit-chan threw herself into Airi's offered hug, burying her face against Airi's neck.

“Airi,” she choked, unaware that she was crying again. “Oh, god, it's really you,” she mumbled to herself.

“Yes, Rit-chan,” soothed Airi, stroking Ritsuko's hair. Silently, the others left the room, ushering a reluctant young girl along with them. “Shh, it's ok, we're both ok,” she murmured over and over to Ritsuko. Gradually, Ritsuko calmed down.

Taking seats at the table, Airi kept one of her hands on one of Rit-chan's hand. “So, should I begin, or do you wish to?” smiled Airi.

“I hear you took over a whole kingdom,” offered Rit-chan. Airi hummed.

“That is a matter of perspective, but yes, I run the kingdom even though I am not the Queen,” she allowed. She briefly sketched in what had happened to her since she was sold, not leaving anything of meaning out, but certainly glossing over some incidents. Rit-chan listened without interrupting. “And so, I came here, knowing that if you were this `Boss' figure, you would know to come here, and here we are,” she finished.

“You're good, Airi,” Ritsuko said.

“I'm flattered you think so, but you have taken over several kingdoms,” replied Airi demurely. Ritsuko snorted.

“Yeah, I'm a regular Alexander the Great,” she replied derisively. “But I have not conquered the known world; yet,” she added.

“Is that your plan, then?” asked Airi.

“I was thinking about it before I got your note,” Ritsuko said, her calm, off-hand tone worrying Airi a little. “Might still do it,” she muttered.

“How about you tell me what happened to you after I was sold?” prompted the older woman. Ritsuko paused for a moment.

“Do you really want to know?” she asked quietly. Airi winced internally.

“Yes, Ritsuko, I do,” she answered firmly.

“That bastard brought me to the auction to see you be sold, thinking it would break me,” began Ritsuko. She laid out her entire experience in a detached, analytical way that told Airi she still hadn't dealt with everything she had been through. Hearing how Ritsuko had been treated on the plantation, she began to worry again. Ritsuko hadn't been physically abused more than any other slave, but for someone like her to be helpless to change her circumstances had left scars on the younger girl's mind that could prove troublesome in the near future and beyond. When Ritsuko described `winning' the privilege of making the plantation owner's sons men and what had happened, Airi had to ask a question.

“I am guessing they did not survive the rebellion, did they?”

Ritsuko gave her a smile that sent chills down her back. “No, they didn't,” was all she said, moving immediately to the next event. When she told her about the night of the revolution, Airi groaned softly to herself. This is going to suck, she thought even as Ritsuko told her of killing the big slave who had been told to breed her and then shooting the owner in the face with a rifle. Oh, Rit-chan…!

When Ritsuko finished a half hour later, she watched Airi, as if she knew there would be questions. “I am sorry you had to go through that, Rit-chan,” said Airi quietly.

“It wasn't your fault, Airi,” was all she said. “Besides, they will pay; no matter what, they will pay.”

“I suppose we should talk about the issues,” Airi started. Ritsuko gave her a curious look.

“Like what? We find them, kill them, get the pieces, go home, right?” she replied, even though her tone and body language told Airi she knew it wasn't that simple.

“For starters, we have to figure out who we want to be,” suggested Airi. “Now that we have Mike back and have dealt with the immediate problem of our Slave Runes, we can become Those Who Hunt Elves again. Remember, we have legal permission to strip elves as that group.”

“Yeah, but as we learned, that legal permission is about as useful as snake shoes,” grunted Ritsuko. “It didn't stop us from being captured and sold as slaves. Remember what that hag said as she carved, burned, pierced and tattooed you, and what the Huntsman let slip after he cream-pied me,” reminded Ritsuko.

“Yes, that is another issue: who paid the slavers to take us. But I think we should handle the bigger issues first. Like who we want to be. My current thought is that we are in a better position now than before in regard to finding Celsia and the spell fragments. As the Chancellor of a Kingdom, I can access more places than I could as an Elf hunter, even setting aside my disguises. And as `Boss', the leader of a successful slave rebellion, you are a very powerful and influential person yourself right now. I think that Those Who Hunt Elves should continue to be…misplaced, as it were, until such time as they need to re-emerge. Does that make sense to you?”

“Sure,” agreed Ritsuko. “I have some more things to do as `Boss' anyway,” she muttered darkly.

Airi considered that for a long moment. “Ritsuko, are you sure you want to begin an insurgency in the Middle and Northern Kingdoms?”

“Can you make a case against it?” challenged the red-head. “If you think I am just doing this because of what happened to me, you should know that I know that until the Allied Kingdoms either surrender, collapse or sign a peace agreement that recognizes the end of slavery, nothing I have accomplished in the Southern Kingdoms will mean jack shit. Even if the Rebellion holds the Southern Kingdom for decades, they will still end up crumbling if the rest of the kingdom keeps up the blockade and embargos. They must be made to sign a peace agreement or be destroyed; and I can't honestly say I care which. Crushing them would be fastest, too,” she added, her tone introspective.

“Not that I am disagreeing with that, but what of the innocents that inevitably get caught in the middle of insurgencies? What of those who have helped us? Are you going to repay them by plunging their world into flames? How is that different from what the slavers do? Or even what Gendo did?” asked Airi.

“I'm not in the mood to have a philosophical debate, Airi. I am too tired right now. If I am a monster, I am a monster they made. I cannot afford to play the role of the ethical or moral `bigger man',” she snorted, “as it were. I want to go home, Airi,” she finished, her voice rough at the end.

“Don't we all,” agreed Airi. “But I think we would all like to be able to live with our choices once we are home, would we not?”

“I spent six years being their damn play thing. I keep myself busy to distract me from the thoughts of what consequences will follow me for the rest of my life - like STDs. I am pretty sure a couple of the men who raped me had some sort of STD, Airi. What will that mean when I get back home? How will I explain to my doctor how I contracted magical herpes? Or worse? A few times, my injuries got infected, and a couple of them never healed right. If I don't keep busy, my mind begins to make lists of what might be eating me alive from the inside out. You heard me say I miscarried twice, right? What does that mean if I ever do want to have a kid? Airi, I can live with a hell of a lot with that as the alternative!” the last came out as a snarl. “Don't even try to tell me you don't have the same thoughts - I can see it on your face. And you got disfigured. How will that work in Hollywood?”

“Actually, I have given some thought to keeping this,” Airi said, her tone calm and introspective. “Given how some of the others in my line of work get body art, this could be a career booster.”

Ritsuko snorted. “Depends on the kind of movies you plan to do, I guess,” she managed a roguish smile. Airi laughed softly.

“I wonder what Shinji would think of this,” she put the thought out there.

“He would crush this world to dust if even a fraction of this had happened to Asuka; or any of his loved ones,” Ritsuko said.

“You make it sound as if you are not in that group,” noted the actress. Ritsuko twitched.

“I don't know,” she muttered, looking away. “Moving along, I have a team with me who needs to learn how to be invisible in noble society. You said you would help, so will you teach them?” she asked directly.

“What is their mission going to be? Are they assassins?” asked Airi directly.

“They are insurgents, yes, but not assassins. The youngest is only ten years old, Airi,” she answered. “Primarily, I envisioned them as spies and countermeasure agents - you know, spreading disinformation and starting feuds, feeding us targets and information to be used, that sort of thing.”

“You would use a ten year old for that?” Airi challenged.

“She's one of the best, actually. And she volunteered. Kids are very often overlooked here, so if she can pretend to be a noble kid, she can mine the other young nobles for data and do the rest without attracting any attention. Besides, it is one of the least risky spots for her. I…expect casualties in the ranks; maybe as high as one hundred percent before it is done.”

“And yet, you push forward,” murmured Airi, pouring herself a glass of wine. Ritsuko said nothing, her lips tight. “Tell me, who did you leave in charge in the Southern Kingdoms?”

“My captains are doing the work down there. They have my final instructions and a set of very specific goals, and are working toward them steadily. In the end, though, I am pretty much done with the Southern Kingdoms. It is time to move forward with the fight,” she said, her free hand absently caressing her carbine.

“I see. I have been looking at building a base of political support sympathetic to your cause. If you plunge the Kingdoms into war, that will be virtually impossible to create. I am sure you understand that political support is as good as military might in situations like this.”

“Yeah, I know,” agreed Ritsuko. “I also know it takes forever to make anything happen politically, too. I had a lot of time to think about this, remember?” she smiled a little.

“What if I could speed that up?” suggested Airi. Ritsuko considered that.

“How fast? And what would be the costs?” she replied.

“Maybe within a year, and I would need some help from you and your insurgents,” Airi answered.

Ritsuko was quiet for a long moment. “A year is a long time, Airi,” she said softly. “And I am not willing to give them that kind of time. You do know that that son of twin brothers knows exactly who bought us, right? And if he hasn't heard of the Rebellion by now, he will soon,” she promised darkly.

“I concede that is a logical point,” Airi agreed. “However, it will take time to train your last team. What are you planning to do until then?” she asked.

“I have some teams to embed, some scouting to do, maybe a few cities to sack and burn,” grunted Ritsuko. “Definitely a healer to find,” she added, scowling.

“Planning to start a new rebellion in another part of the kingdom, perhaps?” guessed the actress.

“Not at the moment, but maybe later,” smiled the gun-fighter. “Why do you ask?”

“I suspect you chose to create your persona because you were aware that without a specific name, and only a vague description, just about anyone could become `Boss'. Am I right?”

“The thought crossed my mind, yeah, but mostly…I just didn't want anyone to get close to me again like Shinji and the others did. I can't go through that again, Airi,” the girl finished in a whisper. The older woman pulled the younger one to her.

“Our luck hasn't been stellar, no, but I think you give yourself too little credit, Rit-chan,” Airi said softly, hugging the girl tightly. Almost a half hour passed in silence.

“What are we going to do about Celsia? And Junpei, I suppose,” she added a moment later.

“Junpei is fine where he is for the moment,” Airi said. “But Celsia is another matter entirely. So is the Slave Rune. I have some people looking into it, but nothing yet, beyond it being a forbidden dark spell,” she said. “How do you plan to communicate with your teams?” Rit-chan gave her closest teammate a grin.

An hour later, when Rapier checked on them, she found Airi sitting on the bed, stroking Rit-chan's hair as the other girl slept, her head on Airi's lap. Seeing the fighter, she gestured for her to come in, the other elves following her. When Milliea moved a chair slightly, Ritsuko jerked upright, eyes a little wild, gun in hand. “Easy, Rit-chan,” Airi soothed her. Ritsuko exhaled slowly, unaware of the tear tracing down her cheek.

“I'm tired,” she said, tucking her gun back under her cloak. “I will find you tomorrow sometime, transfer the team to you,” she said to Airi. Airi nodded. Ritsuko left the room, heading to her room. Opening the door, she spotted her youngest agent waiting for her. Milliea stepped in behind her, closing the door. Ritsuko took off her cloak and removed her gear and clothes before settling on one of the narrow beds. Milliea took the other one as the young girl cuddled up with her Boss.

In the room, Airi prepared to head back to the palace. “So?” asked Gabriella. Airi sighed.

“Could have been better, could have been worse,” she declined a direct answer. “She's not as stable as I hoped, but she hasn't turned into a monster yet, so there might be hope for that. The problem,” she sighed, “is that we might need a monster after all, and she'd be the best monster we could hope for. I need to think this through some more. For now, I will need you two to run errands again, if you don't mind?”

“What can I do for you, gentle sir?” asked the weasel-faced owner of the Arena champion. Before him was a small group of men, headed up by a thin yet imposing man in a cloak.

“We want to buy your slave,” the man said flatly, pulling a large coin purse from under his belt and jiggling it to make the gold coins clink. The owner frowned.

“He isn't for sale,” he began.

“Two hundred thousand gold and two replacement slaves of your choice at no charge. Are you sure he isn't for sale?” interrupted the man. “We already know you can't find fighters to face him, so your profits are dropping. Two hundred thousand in gold, and you pick of two replacement slaves for free. Reconsider,” prompted the man.

“First, just why are you so hot to buy him?” asked the man, smelling an opportunity. “You should also know that he doesn't need to fight to make me rich. He is undefeated in the Arena for the last six years. There are women of…certain eminence, shall we say, that pay handsomely for a night with him,” the man smiled. He knew for a fact that he had pimped out his prize slave to two Queens, three Princesses and a dozen or more Countesses in the last year alone. He suspected that the slave had at least a few kids being raised by unknowing or uncaring husbands as successors to at least three thrones. It was his long-term plan, in fact.

“Stud fees aside, such women lose interest as fast as they gain it,” grunted the leader of the group. The rat-faced man mentally admitted he was correct. The women - noble or not - often changed their fancy for no discernable reason. “And given how prodigious he is in such things, I doubt there are many women left in the Northern Kingdoms who have not already had their fun with him. With new slaves, you can start earning again in the fights, and in the nightly entertaining of ladies,” the man said, absently jiggling the coin purse; which did look rather large and heavy as the man made it clink and clank.

“I doubt any two slaves could match Junpei's skill in the Arena,” he began.

“I have been given discretion by my lord to sweeten the deal to a certain degree. How about two free fighting slaves and a pair of female body slaves for yourself in addition to the two hundred thousand gold?” countered the head of the group.

“Or male body slaves, if that is more to your taste,” one of the group behind the leader added with a snerk. The leader hit the man in his face with his elbow, sending him to the floor without breaking his gaze on the owner.

The man was thinking over the possibilities. Now that he knew that he could insist on more, he had visions of dozens of slaves and near endless money. As if he could sense what the man was thinking, the leader suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the rat-faced man by the throat and dragging him over the small desk so they were face-to-face. “Understand that sweetening the pot can also include letting you retain the ability to eat solid foods and keep both your hands and feet,” he grunted, tightening his already-strong grip. “We are returning with the slave. You can profit by that, or suffer because of that.”

“F…four…slaves…and gold…fine,” managed the man, feeling the bigger man drop him. He grunted as the purse of gold coins hit him in the chest. A piece of sealed parchment landed on top of his face.

“The coin and the sealed agreement for four slaves of your choosing. Pleasure doing business with you,” the man said as the party exited. It took the former owner a good five minutes to recover. It took him another ten to count the double Kingdom Royals in the bag, which added up to exactly two hundred thousand gold. Securing the bag and papers in his hidden safe, he headed for the slave pens, smiling as he anticipated finding the party unable to leave because they had no sale receipt for the champion.

Reaching Junpei's rooms, he found them empty. Rushing to the main entrance, he was told that the party had already departed with the champion. Berating them for not checking paperwork, he had been told that they had a valid sale receipt for the Champion, so what cause did they have to stop them from removing their property from the Arena? Crying out in dismay, the man made his way back to his office. It wouldn't be the first time he had had a con fall through or been forced to give up something of great value. After a fortifying glass of wine, he began to ponder his options.

“Enough,” called out Persephone, clapping her hands. Ritsuko's last team of insurgents stopped. “We will take a break then begin again.”

“We were supposed to be trained by Boss's friend, not by her friend's maid,” came the complaint from the young girl.

“Mistress Airi is busy with other things, and she asked me to begin your instruction. And one of the first lessons, little girl, is manners,” lectured the older servant. “If you cannot speak and act in a civilized manner, you will never fit into noble society. You must also learn dancing, music and proper dining etiquette.”

“And we need to outfit them with proper clothing and gowns,” came Airi's voice from the doors to the large entertaining room. Beside the dark-haired Chancellor, Ritsuko was silently watching.

“Boss!” the girl exclaimed. Ritsuko gave a brief nod, surveying the room. Her eyes lingered on the young man.

“He certainly does remind me of Shinji,” cooed Airi in Ritsuko's ear, making her blush a little. “I don't know why you haven't eaten him up already.”

“Stop it, Airi,” she muttered back.

“Mistress Airi,” bowed Persephone.

“How goes it, Persephone?” smiled Airi.

“It is…challenging,” admitted the personal servant. “They are basically starting from scratch,” she sighed.

“So sorry for making you teach ex-slaves,” snarled Ritsuko. Airi touched her shoulder. Ritsuko fell silent, but her gaze made Persephone sweat a little.

“Yes, I do apologize for asking this of you, Persephone,” Airi added, her personal servant perking up as she bowed.

“Not at all, Mistress Airi! I will have them ready as quickly as possible,” she vowed. Airi hummed.

“I appreciate your efforts, Persephone,” replied Airi, “but my schedule requires me to move on to the next stop. For everyone's sake, I think we will have to move their education to another location.”

“Sending them over the pass to Raltaow?” guessed Ritsuko. Airi smiled at her friend.

“To Colleena's palace, actually,” smiled Airi. Ritsuko quirked an eyebrow.

“Is her ass of a prince going to be a problem?” wondered Ritsuko. Her opinion of the prince Colleena had married was never high to begin with, but was much lower now thanks to her experiences and to some stories from Milliea.

“Actually, I think he will be the perfect tool for our plan,” Airi murmured, winking at Ritsuko. After a moment, Ritsuko smirked back.

“Got you,” she said, giggling evilly.

“So, about the clothes,” Airi returned the topic to hand, “they will need to be fitted and taught how to wear the clothes; especially the girls. To that ends, let's leave off the etiquette training for today and instead get them fitted.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Persephone agreed immediately.

“You won't be using Kingdom funds for the costs,” Ritsuko spoke up, tossing the Shinji-lookalike a heavy purse. “Divide that up between you, with the girls getting a little more since gowns are more expensive and they need more accessories,” she ordered, getting eager smiles for the females and snorts from the two men. “And I want you all to take this training as seriously as if I am the one training you. Understood?” warned the leader of the Rebellion. Her team all nodded.

“Yes, Boss,” they chorused.

“That's another thing you will need to watch. If you ever see me while in public, don't call me `Boss' - it attracts too much attention. I will let you know what to call me later, but remember not to call me that. The military is getting serious,” she said, her lips twisting a little at the end of the statement.

“You can say that again,” came the voice of Annette as she turned the corner of the hall that led to the room. With her was Milliea and Airi's other body servant.

“You shouldn't be seen here, Annette,” warned Ritsuko, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, which overlooked the garden.

“I am visiting Chancellor Airi as she makes her rounds,” Annette shrugged. “You are the one who can't be seen, Rit-chan.”

“All they know is Boss, not Ritsuko,” replied the girl indifferently.

“What did you need to tell us, Annette?” Airi asked.

“Your body servant heard something that you need to be aware of,” Annette said. The other body servant bowed.

“What is it, Hecate?” asked Airi.

“Mistress, I have heard rumors of trouble in the Southern Kingdoms between various leaders. Some say it because of the loss of their Commander, others say it is because of the blockade and embargo against them, but trouble seems to be brewing. Another thing I heard just today is that the military had begun to buy Arena slaves and recruit Arena fighters to bolster their fighting power, apparently to capitalize on the unrest in the area controlled by the Rebellion. It could even be a winter campaign,” she finished.

“Which kingdoms or plantations?” interjected Ritsuko.

“The rumors are not specific to any particular area, my lady,” Hecate replied.

“Interesting,” Airi murmured.

“I wonder where their new deep pockets are coming from,” grunted Ritsuko.

“Annette, can you get in touch with Gabriella and Rapier?” asked Airi. Annette nodded. “Good. Please ask them to go retrieve Junpei and stash him…” she paused, considering her options.

“Raltaow is about the only place to keep him,” Ritsuko said.

“I don't know that I want him causing trouble there while I am busy here,” Airi replied.

“That's the point: he will cause trouble anywhere he goes,” snorted Ritsuko. Seeing the look in Airi's eye, she held up her hands. “Forget it. He is too stupid to do what needs to be done, and would either get me killed or make me kill him,” she declared.

“Such a bother,” sighed Airi. “Tell them that I want him to protect the Queen because she is my friend. There should be just barely enough time to make it to the pass before it becomes impassable,” she directed.

“I'll zip down and see what is going on; maybe break their army again,” grunted Ritsuko. “Then I will check on my teams already in the field. You have the gear I gave you, right?” she asked Airi, who nodded. “Then I can find you again.”

“Boss, we'll come with you!” cried out the girl.

“No, you will not,” came her stern reply. “You volunteered, and I warned you what to expect if you did. Whatever happens down there no longer concerns you. You will learn the skills you need to carry out your mission. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Boss,” they chanted.

“I'll go with you,” Milliea said, smiling at Rit-chan. Ritsuko nodded, but said nothing.

“Anything else before I head down and begin work?” asked Ritsuko. Airi debated with herself before shaking her head.

“Be safe, Rit-chan,” she said softly.

“Safe as I can be,” replied the younger girl, heading out of the manor they were in, Milliea in tow. Mike was parked outside town, and Airi knew it wouldn't take them long to reach the Southern Kingdoms.

“It would seem I have another issue to discuss with the king,” she sighed, turning and heading back toward the king's palace.

Junpei stared at the guard in front of him impassively. The guard was slouched slightly, covered in bandages and looked uncomfortable. His stare training was interrupted by the door to the cell opening. Junpei recognized the head slaver as he entered, along with a misshapen figure in a cloak. “Slave,” began the head slaver. Junpei wanted to kick his head clean off his shoulders, but knew the strange mark on his chest wouldn't let him.

“Go fuck yourself,” he said, smirking as he gave the man the finger. The big slaver sighed before motioning to the malformed figure, who began to chant. “Aw, man, I hate this magic shit,” complained the fighter as his eyes glazed over. After a minute, the chanting stopped.

“Remember, do not do more than you have been told, and try not to diminish his fighting skills,” cautioned the head slaver.

“Usually, the worry is that the slave's mind is too intricate for the spell to work, but in this case, I fear there isn't enough intelligence in this one for the spell to work, Huntsman,” the mage said.

“Do what you can,” replied the man. “Our Lord has commanded that he be sent to hunt down the female slaves as soon as possible,” he reminded the man.

“Of course, but I want it known that I have reservations about this slave having enough intelligence to be of use, spell or no spell,” came the disdainful reply.

“Noted,” was all the Huntsman said before exiting the cell. The mage got to work on Junpei's mind; what there was of it, anyway. Four hours later, he left the cell, wondering why he craved curry so much; and what curry was for that matter. He also was somewhat fixated on the older female slave, Miss Airi, for some inexplicable reason. Grimacing, he headed for his private rooms in the manor, where a fresh slave girl was no doubt waiting. He licked his lips in anticipation, even if he was sure the girl wouldn't be as lovely as Miss Airi.

Junpei emerged from the cell a half hour later, heading out without a word. He had two slave women to bring back to their rightful place, a rebellion leader to kill and a Chancellor to kidnap. His first stop would be the military camp across the border from the Southern Kingdoms, where they were signing up anyone who would volunteer for the coming offensive against the Rebellion. He could gather information there before heading in on his own to fulfill his mandate.

In the manor house, the noble hissed in frustration as once more, there was no reply from the party who bought the elf priestess off him. They were gone without a trace, and with them the High Priestess. He took a long drink from his wine glass as he recalled the looks in the eyes of the two human slaves as they told him they would come back for him. Most slaves said that until they were broken, and he had given it little thought until the rumors began. Now, he found it hard to sleep. Even after having sport with new slave girls, he would wake from nightmares of the redhead's eyes boring into his, and the disdainful look of contempt in the eyes of the black-haired one.

The nobleman wasn't a fool. He began to plan when the slave rebellion didn't fail like they always did, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he panicked a bit when the Alliance army was decimated in a fight with the rebels. It had not helped him when he heard the rumors that the Chancellor of Raltaow was marked with the brandings of a slave. His huntsman had confirmed that the older of the two women of Those Who Hunt Elves was also commonly called `Airi'. Then there were the inquiries by the Temple of Celsia about his former merchandise over the last few years.

No, he was no fool. He realized that he needed protection in the event that those two actually managed to come after him. The best defense, he had learned, was to have control of someone they cared about or to have them killed before they knew he was after them. But, after consulting with his Huntsman, he had been skeptical of the odds an assassin would have against the two, slave rune or not. His discreet inquiries about the holder of the Master key to the runes had revealed that no one knew what had happened to the slave he sold to the Plantations, and the last person known to have the Master key was dead years since. His mage was even now trying to find a way to create new Master keys to the Slave Rune spell, but so far, was having little luck.

So, he had decided to re-acquire the male slave, bind him with magic and send him after his two former companions. He figured that they would not suspect him, which should give him the chance he would need to either kill them or capture them. He hoped the male slave would bring them back to him alive. He had plans for them after all they had put him through.

But the elf priestess was a different matter. She had been delivered, and since then, he couldn't contact the party who had pre-emptively bought her. No one - not even his usually-unshakable Huntsman - had been able to find a single trace of her or the ones who had bought her. It was like they were ghosts; though their gold and jewels spent well enough. Tossing the undelivered letter into the small fireplace, he stared out the window moodily at the cloudy sunset. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of being stalked.

“Boss!”

Ritsuko marched into the room, absently taking off the floppy black hat she wore and wringing out the water. It was pouring rain outside, and she had left Mike in a cover position about a half-mile away, leaving her and Milliea to walk to the plantation that served as the central hub for the Captains. They were both soaked when they arrived, but neither cared.

It had taken Mike two days to run from the Temple to the border, a single night to pass through the line (this time, she simply burned the fort and everyone in it to the ground with a few rounds of Willy Pete and some rifle-fire) before driving across the stone bridge. Her army's position had started to challenge her, but once they realized it was her, they had cheered. She had told them to send runners to the Captains that she expected them to all be in attendance in two days' time at the central office, then she roared off on Mike, leaving her army in very high morale.

During the two days, she had run along the line, checking on the situation and talking with Lieutenants and free slaves alike. Now, on the evening of the second day, she had driven through a heavy thunderstorm to make the meeting. Reaching the plantation house, she had been challenged as she stepped out of the downpour, but growling at them to get out of her way or she would shoot them in the face was enough to make them leap out of her way.

“What is the damn problem?” she bit out, tossing her boonie cap onto the table before pulling her poncho over her head and dropping into a chair. “I had to put my plans on hold to come down here and play referee for you, so I am not in a particularly good mood. I have spent two days talking to the army and the citizens, so I have a rough idea what is happening here. What part of my directives do you not understand?” she asked, her tone stern.

The five captains shifted their gazes between each other. “Um, well, it is sort of…complicated,” began the oldest of the five.

“No, actually it is not,” Ritsuko corrected him. “The Alliance military is building its forces for a surprise campaign, possibly as early as first snow, and you five have not prepared the defensive lines, the kingdoms or the infrastructure. Do you want to be captured and enslaved again? Because if so, you are doing an excellent job of it!”

“Of course not,” began the former plantation owner.

“Then you better spell out what the problem is so I can sort it out, because so help me, if you let this rebellion fail after everything we have done just because you can't work together, I might just set fire to this area too!”

“You…are really planning to expand the fight?” blinked the Captain in charge of the front lines. The look Ritsuko sent him made him tug on his collar and sweat.

“I was about to start the party when I got news of you all dropping the ball down here,” Ritsuko said, her tone ominous. “That's not going to cut it. Starting with you, I want an accurate report on exactly where you are failing and why. I will fix it this time, but next time you get sidetracked by being stupid, I will probably just shoot you,” warned the girl, pulling out a small notebook and a thin pencil. When she didn't hear the man begin his report, she gave him a pointed look. “Speak up,” she warned. He swiftly began to make his report, a couple other captains trying to interrupt, but Ritsuko told them to wait their turn. She jotted things down as he made his report.

When he was done, she asked him a few questions, some of which made him sweat more. Pointing to the next Captain, she told him to report, turning the page in her book. It took her more than an hour, but she got all five reports. Turning pages, she frowned to herself before calling for maps, which were brought. Using her pencil, she made some obscure marks on the maps, then rearranged them, consulted her book, made more marks, rearranged the maps again, and finally nodded.

“New orders, new schedule,” she ordered. “You will need to take notes.” The five called in their assistants. Only two of the five were fully literate, after all. Ritsuko laid out her plan, harshly slapping down any attempts to argue or interrupt. When she was done, she fielded questions one at a time from the group. When they ran out of questions, she had each one repeat back what their new orders and time table was, correcting them and making them start over whenever they made the smallest mistake.

By the time she was satisfied they understood what the plan was and why it was necessary for them to work together and in synch, she was tired, irritable and restless. “This meeting is over,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “You will start on this first thing tomorrow,” ordered the red-head.

“Yes, Boss,” they replied in unison.

“Where will you be staying, Boss?” asked the former plantation owner.

“Who said I was?” she grunted back, pulling on her poncho and boonie cap. “I might or might not make unannounced checks on you all, and you really don't want to fail a spot-check,” she said, meeting each of their gazes with her own. “Good night, Captains,” she said, turning for the door as she tucked a piece of jerky in the corner of her mouth.

“Boss, a word?” asked the oldest captain.

“You said you had no more questions,” she warned him.

“It is not about the new orders,” he assured her.

“Then there is no need for a word,” she retorted. “And no, I am still not with anyone,” she added, her tone irritated, “so none of you have won the wager yet.”

With Boss gone, the five turned to each other. “How did she find out about the wager?” wondered the youngest of the Captains.

“She's Boss, kid - she just knows,” replied the oldest of the group.

Milliea was thankfully quiet until they reached Mike. Climbing into the tank, they shut the hatch, Ritsuko groaning as she settled into the commander seat, Milliea settling into the gunner seat. “Mike, head south,” she ordered. “Use the road to avoid the fields, since this rain has doubtlessly made the fields too soft to run across. Once we reach the port, stop outside the city,” ordered Ritsuko, taking off her damp clothes before grabbing a dry towel and beginning to rub her naked body.

“Let me,” Milliea offered, smiling. Ritsuko started to say no, but it was too much effort to try and argue Milliea down. She handed the elf the towel and before she knew it, she was asleep. Milliea situated herself so she could hold the human to herself, humming softly as Ritsuko slept. A soft meow? came from the tank.

“She's just tired, Mike,” replied Milliea, hugging the naked girl to herself fondly.

Princess Colleena blinked. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“You heard me,” smiled Persephone. “Mistress Airi has requested your help with a project of hers. We need to use your palace as a training ground for these…untrained servants,” she said, gesturing to the people behind her. Colleena sighed.

“I read the letter, Persephone,” she said. “But we don't need any more servants here, and…” she trailed off, wondering how to say it right.

“Think of this as free labor, then,” Persephone said. “Nobles can never have enough servants, either.”

“I think she's worried about her husband's roving eye,” interjected the young woman close to Ritsuko's age.

“Among other body parts,” snickered the youngest of the group. Colleena's face colored. “But don't worry; we have little interest in nobles, and have been told to leave your husband alone unless he does something to change that,” the girl added.

“Another lesson, girls,” Persephone said crisply, “nobility do not speak of that in such blatant terms. At the very least, such remarks should be couched in polite words and delivered in a tone that makes the veiled meaning seem innocuous.”

“Yes!” came the reply from the women. The men grunted.

“And noblemen do not grunt. At most, you are allowed an effeminate snort, best delivered with an air of condescending superiority. Understood?”

“Yes, miss Persephone,” he replied, giving a rough, crude bow.

“My apologies, they have only just started to learn how to act in civilized society,” Persephone apologized to Colleena. The elf princess sighed.

“Very well,” she gave in. Persephone gave a graceful, poised, polished curtsey.

“My most humble thanks, Princess Colleena,” she replied. Colleena flipped her hand. “Might you know of a good dress shop near-by?” she asked. “They will need proper clothing to train,” she continued. “They have their own funds to pay for them, but I am not familiar with this town…”

Colleena suddenly smiled. “Oh, I know the perfect dress shop!” she enthused. “Come, I will introduce you all,” she nearly sang, turning and heading for the door. The shop Airi used to work at should be just fine, she thought to herself.

When they arrived at the dress shop, they found that there were already two women in front of them, both the owner and her two assistants busy. Settling in to wait their turns for preliminary fittings, the group idly listened to the two women - both wives of courtiers - gossip. “I tell you, it makes me faint with tension, the way those filthy savages behave,” one was saying to the other.

“I quite agree,” replied the other. “Not only did they dare to rebel against their rightful owners, but to resist their lawful punishment is just far too much! I feel so sorry for those poor sailors,” she sighed tragically.

“Pardon me, but what are you talking about?” asked the youngest of the group, a sweet, innocent smile on her face.

“Oh, you are too young to understand, my dear,” the first said after looking over at the young insurgent. “Such vulgar and disgusting talk is not for children's ears.”

“Oh, my little sister is quite advanced for her years, my lady,” the next oldest woman said, casually placing a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. “Would you be speaking of the rebellion in the Southern Kingdom?”

“Why, yes,” the second replied eagerly. “We just received word this morning that the Alliance ships blockading the only port in the Southern Kingdoms lost four of the five ships in the blockade last week to unknown sorcery, and that it is rumored that the slaves' horrible `Boss' was seen again. I feel terror at the thought of such a beastly creature still living!”

“Indeed,” the second youngest replied, her hand tightening on the shoulder of the youngest. “Whatever would become of us if she were to invade the Central Kingdoms?” Persephone and Colleena exchanges looked, feeling the ill-will seeping off the insurgents surrounding them.

“She could never do something like that, however,” the first woman spoke up. “Our gallant army is preparing even now to strike, perhaps as soon as the first snow fall. Why, my very own second nephew has joined the fight to protect our kingdom and the rest of the Alliance!” she gushed. The youngest girl started to open her mouth, but her `big sister' slid her hand over it and clamped down.

“May they have better success this time,” the oldest of the women spoke up, her tone bland and calm. “Four ships, you say? How on earth could such a thing happen?” she asked, subtly shifting the topic back on track.

“Sorcery, of course,” came the sage reply. “The blockade fleet was at anchor close to the bay mouth, as they do every night, when thunder was heard, and one by one, the four ships closest to the shore just exploded and the remains burst into flames. The last ship - the ship of the Commodore - stood to sea and escaped, but by morning, there were no survivors from the other four ships.”

“A tragedy,” the second-youngest woman said, malicious glee hidden behind her words. Boss must have used the long cannon on her iron chariot, she deducted. “Whatever will the Navy do?” she wondered.

“Well, I may not be a sailor, but my husband is quite versed on military affairs of all types, being noble-born and properly schooled,” bragged the woman. “He assures me that the Navy will shift some ships from the Eastern fleet to replace the lost ships, and the Congress of Kings will surely commission more ships, as it is apparent the Southern Kingdoms will be more difficult to liberate from those filthy slaves than first thought,” the woman nearly bragged.

“That is a relief to hear,” Colleena said, feeling a little queasy at the light in the eyes of the insurgents.

“Indeed!” the second woman agreed. “But I have heard my own husband - a man of great familiarity with magic, if I do say so myself - say that the Alliance military has been seeking out the help of elves; even beyond the Temple of Celsia. Though, there has been little success so far.”

“Indeed? How interesting,” Colleena mused. First I have heard of this, she noted.

“Oh, I do so apologize, Princess Colleena!” the woman gushed, “I meant no disrespect of yourself or any elf,” she assured the princess.

“None taken,” Colleena waved it off. Of course not! No Elf would be stupid enough to get involved in this mess; more so if they think Those Who Hunt Elves are involved! “How long does it take to make a warship?” she wondered aloud.

“Several months, I hear,” the first woman replied. “Fortunately, three are nearly complete in the shipyards in the East, and I hear two more are building in the shipyards here in the West, though I am sure I would not know the details of such things,” she added, sounding smug at being uninformed.

“That should complete the fittings, ladies,” the owner interrupted the gossip session. The noble women departed not long after, and the first two of the insurgents took their places, with Colleena and Persephone talking with the owner about cloth, colors and styles. Asked to disrobe for the preliminary measurements, the two did so without hesitation or concern. Seeing the owner was surprised at that, Colleena explained it away as the two being comfortable in the presence of ladies close to their own ages. The second-youngest caused her a moment of panic because of the scars on her back. This was explained by the woman as an unfortunate accident while learning to ride a horse that landed her on sharp rocks.

When they were done, hours later, they returned to the palace, Persephone leading them to the two rooms set aside for them in the servants' wing. Without waiting for them to say anything, she began to point out their mistakes and explain how to avoid such in the future. The insurgents paid attention, but were already planning how to get word to Boss about the intel they had uncovered.

“Annette.”

The high priestess shrieked, caught off-guard by the moonlight mirror spell. “I told you not to use that in the temple, Gabs,” hissed the younger elf.

“Emergency,” Gabriella replied. “White Dragon was sold. We don't know to who.”

“His owner sold him?” blinked Annette, stunned. “Who in their right mind would sell the Arena champion?”

“From the looks of the former owner, it wasn't his choice,” came the answer.

“He did say it was the same person who sold White Dragon to him, though,” offered Rapier.

“So, what is their name?” Annette asked when she said nothing more.

“He doesn't know,” Gabriella answered instead.

“Are you sure he isn't just covering for the man?” frowned the priestess.

Gabriella gave a nasty little laugh. “Oh, we are very sure, aren't we, Rapier?” she purred.

“Absolutely positive,” agreed the kickboxer, a sharp smile on her lips. Annette groaned.

“Is he still alive?” she sighed.

“Last time we saw him, yeah,” came the indifferent answer from the dark elf. “The slavers use a system that makes it all but impossible to trace the sale of a slave back to the one who put them on the block; at least in the underground sales like they went through. What do you want us to do now?” asked the dark elf. Annette had to consider that for a long moment.

“I guess you better link up with Milliea and Ritsuko for the time being and work on that end of things. Your skills align better with her than with mine or Airi's tasks,” decided the priestess.

“Sure, but where do we find her?” asked Gabriella.

“Come to the temple. I have a lock of her hair, and you can use that to target the moonlight mirror spell and ask her. She should be somewhere in the Southern Kingdoms or Eastern Kingdoms by now. Where are you?” she asked.

“Just inside the Central Kingdoms, right over the border to the Northern Kingdoms,” Gabriella replied. “Oh, and the Arenas all reported that most of their best fighters have been bought or left of their own accord to join up with the Military, which is promising fame and fortune - and noble rank - to anyone who serves with them in `liberating' the Southern Kingdom. There are some whose skills are not to be underestimated,” she cautioned.

“Yes, I am sure,” agreed Annette dryly.

“You aren't hearing what I am saying, Annette,” cautioned the older elf. “The Arena breeds fighters who are different from the usual military soldier. We could be looking at something similar to what Ritsuko is planning. This winter campaign we keep hearing about is the sort of thing an area fighter would think up, since you know militaries do not usually fight in winter. I don't know what Ritsuko set up for the defenses of the Southern Kingdoms border, but I doubt they are ready for that kind of change in tactics.”

“I wouldn't bet on her not thinking of that, myself,” Annette grunted. “She blew four of the five blockade ships out of the water, with a loss of all hands just a few days ago,” she shared. “I received word this morning by messenger bird that a scouting element of the military was caught near the border and executed by the local garrison, with the word being that `Boss' had made changes to their tactics. I also know that the Chancellor is making friends with blockade runners even as we speak.”

“This is getting complicated,” Gabriella stated.

“Yes, it is. I feel like the fire has been set, and all that is left now is to try to get clear of the castle before it burns to the ground,” Annette agreed. “Still nothing on Celsia?”

“Not a single thing,” Gabriella confirmed. “I am getting worried, actually.”

“Yes. It feels wrong,” agreed the priestess before the spell was released.

Ritsuko squatted by the small tub of water and detergent, steadily hand-washing her clothes. Dressed in her tiny shorts and a tee-shirt that was threadbare and tissue thin, she was doing laundry after their latest survey. Tomorrow, they would be punching through the lines that separated the Southern Kingdoms from the Eastern Kingdoms. Not far from her, Milliea was humming softly as she pinned wet clothes to the makeshift clothesline they had rigged. Mike was just beyond them, apparently napping.

The day before, she had done a survey of a small inlet's beaches and approaches, determining it would work for medium-sized blockade runners' ships. The bottom was mostly sand and broken shells, with a low-tide depth of just over ten feet, with a manageable approach to the semi-secluded line beach. There were some broken bluffs behind the beach, giving shelter from accidental detection from land, and the shape of the cove offered some concealment from seaward. After taking two rather unpleasantly cold swims in the bay - glad to have her swimsuits available again - she had warmed up by a small fire and drawn a basic map of the bottom and the shape of the obstacles.

That night, a small ship had signaled from off-shore and she had responded with a flashlight. A half hour later, a small rowboat had come ashore and she had greeted the representative of a group of blockade runners whom she immediately suspected of being black marketers. Even so, she had checked their small cargo, given them the basic chart of the bay, a bag of gold, and the method of contacting the correct people to arrange for future business. The boat had shoved off and she had watched it return to the ship, which itself sailed off not long after. She had moved on herself, just in case.

That morning, she had decided to punch through the lines, and had discovered it was laundry day. So, she found a small stream, prepped some washing water and set to washing her clothes. While they dried, she would tend to her weapons and other basic tasks. Come nightfall, it was back to work for her. Wringing out the last of her clothes, she rinsed them before helping Milliea hang the last of the clothes. Surveying the line, she reflected that she was going to be out of panties rather soon, and she was down to two last bras. But, her work clothes were still fine.

Milliea had been fascinated by the bras, as the elf world had nothing like the ones she had. After pestering her for every little detail, Milliea had decided that she might like to get some, though she also cheerfully admitted she had no idea how she would wear them under her armor or even what good they would do, since the armor had built-in support for her not-inconsiderable rack. The elf girl had also liked the panties that Ritsuko had. The human had given her the last spares she had, knowing that nothing the elf world had was as comfortable as the panties she and Airi had.

That thought reminded her of another issue with the supplies. She was down to emergency levels of certain hygienic supplies. Years as a slave without them had made her all the more determined to never go without certain supplies again if she could help it. And yet, she might not be able to help it, given that the elf world didn't know what tampons were. Hell, they barely know what toilet paper is, she thought sourly.

Fortunately, Airi had been working under the same conditions, and she had arranged for the black market to keep an eye out for certain things. What she had gotten the night before was just such a package. It had contained some batteries, some ammo for her guns, a case of tank rounds (unfortunately they were smoke rounds, not Willy Pete or High Explosive, but she would take what she could get), a few assorted items of no particular use (at the moment, anyway) and some canned foods. She had found a small medical kit in the batch and processed it, adding what was useable to her own kit and discarding the rest.

Making some small notes on the notepad she kept in Mike by the commander position, she settled in to wait for the clothes to dry in the warm sunlight and the breeze coming off the coast several miles away. She didn't know when she fell asleep, but she was awakened by her instincts, her pistol in her hands even before she opened her eyes. Blinking, she realized there was a solidified shadow a short distance from her. Crap! Magic, she thought, swiftly glancing around. It was the one thing she didn't have a counter for, and if a magician got the drop on her, it could be bad.

“Ritsuko,” a voice came from the shadow. Focusing on it, she found she could see a dim image of two people. It took her another moment to place the face and names.

“Gabriella, Rapier,” she greeted them, decoking her pistol. “How did you find me?” she asked directly.

“Remember when Annette asked for a lock of your hair? Well, it can be used to target a spell, if the caster knows a few things,” Gabriella explained. “But don't worry - it isn't common knowledge and it is a skill found all but exclusively in dark elf circles. I am not a mage-type by nature, but I am a dark elf and I have picked up a few things,” she smiled.

“Ok, so why call me?” Ritsuko asked.

“A few reasons,” Rapier spoke up. “First, White Dragon has disappeared, apparently sold. We believe he might be heading for the Alliance Army to fight your Rebel army.”

“So you want me to go annihilate the Alliance army?” guessed Ritsuko. Now that she had Mike back, she could actually do exactly that if necessary, though the risks were high in many different ways.

“No, that would prove problematic in many ways,” Gabriella answered for Rapier. “We just want you to pass word to your commanders to be aware he might be in the fighting.”

“Ok, but understand that they won't be in any position to play favorites if that muscle-headed jerk is in a major battle,” warned Ritsuko. “And I have other things to be doing than waiting for him to appear,” she added darkly. Sounds like we aren't moving fast enough to catch that prick, she worried.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Gabriella replied. “Your team is training with Persephone at Colleena's court,” she continued the report. Ritsuko nodded.

“Airi on schedule?” she asked.

“As far as we know,” Rapier answered.

“Which brings us to our new tasking,” grinned Gabriella, “we are supposed to link up with you and Milliea to have some fun.”

“I don't know that what I have planned will be fun in the way you understand it,” grunted Ritsuko. She heard some movement and turned to see Milliea had climbed up onto the tank, a load of dry clothes in her hand.

“Hi, Gabriella, Rapier,” she chirped happily.

“Milliea,” nodded the other two elven women. “So, where do we meet up?” Gabriella asked Ritsuko. “We suspect you are headed for the Eastern Kingdoms, so we are already headed that way. Oh, and your team on the West Kingdoms coast sent word that ships are nearing completion in the shipyards at the north end of the Eastern seaboard that will be sent to enforce the blockade of your port, too,” she added.

“Got that message two days ago,” nodded Ritsuko. She pulled up a couple of maps. “Let's meet up at the port by the Darkwater River the day after tomorrow, if you can make that,” she suggested.

The two elves conferred for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, we can make that,” confirmed Gabriella.

“South side of the river, a few miles outside of town. I will probably have Mike laid up in the woods, so look for the signs. I will wait two days, then move on if you haven't linked up,” she added.

“Shipyards?” smiled Rapier thinly.

“Among other things,” Ritsuko said.

“Day after tomorrow, then,” Gabriella said, ending the spell. Ritsuko sighed, leaning back against Mike's turret.

“Are you feeling ok, Ritsuko?” asked Milliea, leaning over so she was looking at Ritsuko face-to-face but upside down.

“I'm fine Milliea,” assured the teen. “Let's get some rest before scouting the crossing,” added the girl, closing her eyes. Milliea said nothing, settling in beside the human.

Airi closed her eyes, thinking about her next move. So far, she had sown the seeds of the popular support for the Rebellion in five courts, and had begun a push to put the idea out there for the civilians as well. Given their worry about the seemingly-unbeatable Rebellion Army, the civilians should be quick to embrace the negotiated peace option if all it would take would be the Congress of Kings accepting the victory of the Rebel Army and outlawing - or at the very least, severely restricting - the slave trade. And once my dear Rit-chan starts playing with matches, it will be that much more urgent, though they will have less time to accept the easy solution. I have little doubt that Ritsuko will not hesitate even a moment to burn this continent to ash if that is what it takes, she thought introspectively. She sipped from her glass of wine, humming in approval of the white wine. While she generally preferred red wine, this kingdom did a have a superior white offering, it would seem.

“Forgive the interruption, Mistress,” her body servant said, bowing as she closed the door behind her.

“What is it, Hecate?” asked Airi urbanely, smiling at the servant.

“I have just returned from the Royal Physicians' College, Mistress,” she reported.

“And?”

“It was as you suspected, Mistress,” reported Hecate, bowing a little deeper. “They have no concept of the concern you sent me there to discuss. My apologies for failing my task, Mistress,” she added.

“It is not your fault they didn't know anything, my dear Hecate,” Airi assured her. “Did you get checked out while you were there?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress. I have received a clean bill of health, and am cleared to serve you in any way you need,” she reported, offering her master a sealed parchment that stated she was healthy, fit and able to perform duties assigned her without limit. Scanning the document, Airi had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the ornate language and stilted tone of the document, as well as the laughably-gaudy seal attached to the bottom.

“Well, that is good news,” she offered.

“Mistress, I have also made a tentative appointment for you as well, if you wish to be examined,” she offered, sounding a little nervous. Airi laughed softly.

“Why, that is very thoughtful of you, Hecate,” she soothed the nervous servant. “Perhaps I will when I can find time in my schedule,” she allowed. Hecate bowed again.

“Of course, Mistress. Should I review your schedule and try to locate an opening?” she asked.

“Oh, I am sure one will turn up on its own,” Airi smoothly turned aside the offer. “But I do have another task for you, Hecate dear,” she added, pulling a sheet of parchment off her small desk and checking it. “Would you be a sweetheart and look into this matter for me as well? I am rather involved with the negotiations with the King, you understand, and it would help me to know more about this matter without anyone knowing.”

“At once Mistress!” Hecate nearly sang, taking the parchment sheet reverently and reading it. Airi had taught her to read and do math and had improved her manners and bearing while she was still a mere mistress to the King, and Hecate and Persephone both remembered her generosity. When she had picked them as her two body servants, they had been ecstatic at the honor to return her kindness and faith in them. Here was more proof that she and her sister servant were trusted by Mistress Airi: they were given secret tasks of great importance to the Chancellor while no one else was.

“Hecate, dear,” Airi's cultured voice interrupted her reading of the parchment, “please understand that discretion is of the utmost importance in this matter. It would be quite a problem for me and the Queen if this were to become known at large. I can trust you to make sure such a thing does not happen, can I not?” she asked.

“I swear I will never let such a thing happen, Mistress!” she swore, fire in her eyes. “Even if I have to kill myself to keep this secret, I will!”

“I pray it won't come to that, Hecate,” smiled Airi, “but it does make me feel better to hear you promise that,” she added, almost making Hecate swoon with excitement.

“I live to serve you, Mistress!” she nearly panted from the excitement. Airi smiled at her as she waved a hand, dismissing the woman, who fumbled with the door a moment before exiting, so excited was she. Once she was gone, Airi frowned a little, absently twirling the wine in her glass.

“Rit-chan will not be happy to hear this news,” she murmured. But, it wasn't that surprising, and when she reviewed her first meeting with Rit-chan in six years, she suspected that Ritsuko had already figured out the situation, and was just trying to not think about the repercussions to keep herself sane. “Poor Rit-chan,” she murmured, taking another sip.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Yes?” she called out, rising from her desk.

“Forgive the interruption, Chancellor, but the King would like to invite you to dine with him and a couple of his advisors in private this evening,” came the voice of the butler of the palace. Airi swiftly evaluated her options.

“Please thank the King for his invitation. I would be delighted to dine with him, but it will take me an hour to prepare,” she warned.

“Very good, Chancellor,” the butler answered. “I shall inform his majesty of this, though I am sure it will be no problem whatsoever. I will return to give you the time of dinner shortly, if that is acceptable?”

“Of course, and thank you for your gracious care,” she replied.

“It is my job, Lady Airi,” came the reply. “I will instruct the house staff to begin preparing a bath for you immediately,” he added before she heard him walk away from her door. Sighing, Airi finished her wine and went to look over her gowns, weighing each one against her goals and how she could best achieve them.

“Wow, this is a marvel, indeed,” Gabriella said as she rode atop Mike. Ritsuko was in the driver's compartment, her head sticking up out of the hatch while Rapier stood in the commander's position, her arms and head above the hatch rim. Milliea was on the other side of the turret from Gabriella. Mike roared along the path, casually flattening trees that were in the way, running right over fallen trees and punching through the odd fence or blockade.

“It explains a lot about how you always seemed to be everywhere at once,” Rapier agreed even as Mike shouldered aside a pine as thick as her torso like it was a cobweb.

The two had known about Mike from their earlier encounters with the group, but had never ridden in him or traveled with him. To see him run hours on end faster than any horse could ever dream of going, slicing through fields, woods, streams and other obstacles was eye-opening. When they had happened upon a column of knights heading south, Ritsuko had given a thin smile and ordered Mike to charge. The cat-possessed tank had increased speed, centering itself on the road. Snickering, Ritsuko reached down and flicked the switch for the PA. “Out of the way or die,” she yelled before switching off the PA and turning to the elf women. “Hold on and stay low,” she ordered, patting Mike's hull. “Run them down,” she murmured to the tank.

The knights, used to be deferred to, couldn't process what was happening. It was an Iron Chariot, but someone seemed to be in it. Their horses, trained battle steeds, were getting nervous and wild-eyed as the ground shook and the roar of Mike's engine and treads began to spook them. The Knight-Captain of Lance couldn't understand what was happening. Falling back on his conditioned responses, he set his lance and yelled for the charge. What followed was a bloodbath that left a coating of horse and man meat over the road surface and the fields to either side. A few of the knights at the rear of the column had peeled off to avoid the monster that was completely impervious to lances and swords. They were the only survivors. The Iron Chariot didn't even slow, easily running over fallen horses and men alike with such inhumane indifference that it physically made them sick. Seeing what was left of their fellow knights behind the monster was something they would never forget. Their captain was crushed flat as trail bread, armor and all, as was his horse.

Ritsuko had taken the opportunity a few miles later to ford a river to clean off the horsemeat and knight paste from Mike's running gear. She had been smiling grimly as the river washed away the remnants of the encounter. Gabriella and Rapier had seen fully-armored knights sent flying dozens of feet into the air and many yards away from impacting the hull of the Iron Chariot when they were thrown from their horses as the poor beasts were either knocked aside or run over. They had tossed broken segments of lances off Mike's hull as they watched the red section of road vanish behind them. The two had exchanged looks, suddenly having a much greater understanding of Airi's words about Ritsuko and her capabilities.

Fast and fearsome as Mike might be, one thing he wasn't was stealthy. Both Gabriella and Rapier were interested in what Ritsuko would do about that. Part of her answer was to run through woods and fields when possible, where few would notice her, and even fewer still would understand what the marks meant. Another thing she did was occasionally stop for bathroom breaks and while the others were busy with that, she would have Milliea cut a few medium-sized trees into sections a bit wider than Mike, which she would then chain to the back of Mike and drag behind her, wiping out or obscuring the tracks Mike made. Milliea had told them that sometimes, Ritsuko would decorate Mike with tree branches and grass bundles, making them look just like a brush pile. The two elfin fighters weren't sure what good that did, but trusted that Ritsuko had a purpose for doing it.

Ritsuko was also given to running at night, usually on the roads, with no lights on. The human wore some sort of device around her head that let her see in the dark, and she had let the elf women try it a time to two, shocking them at the range and clarity of the device, though the green hue was a bit much for them. When Mike was running at night through small towns, Ritsuko had a tendency to run at full throttle and play some sort of music over the PA system, leaving villages scared and uncertain in her wake. When asked, she had said she had `Ride of the Valkyries' and a few other `inspiring' songs from her world on her cell phone, though what that meant was a mystery to the elves.

Now, though, they were approaching their goal. Ritsuko called for Mike to halt, the tank doing so. Taking her best binoculars, Ritsuko nimbly hopped up to stand on the highest point of Mike's hull, scanning the coastal city before them. This was the first of the three shipwright towns that were on her list. Studying the town, she began to formulate her plan. After several minutes studying the situation, she looked up at the late afternoon sky before once more using her binoculars. The elves waited. “Mike, I'll drive,” she said, dropping back into the driver position and swiftly running the tank down the low hill and through the woods, turning back on herself a few times before finally settling Mike between three large, old oaks almost as wide across as Mike was. “Ok, sleepy time, Mike,” she said, patting the hull lovingly. “You did very good. I love you!” she added before kissing the side of the turret. A soft meow! was her answer.

Jumping off the tank, she pulled the axe off its stowage position. “You know the drill, Milliea,” she said, already starting to look at the trees.

“Yes!” Milliea cheerfully agreed, jumping off the tank and beginning to clear-cut the area around Mike.

“Gabriella, Rapier, get the camo netting off Mike. That is the large bundle on the rear left of the hull. Unroll it more or less between these three trees. I will have the stake and poles soon,” Ritsuko orders, already chopping down a few spindly trees and swiftly dragging them over. The two did as ordered, finding the `camo netting' to be a woven pattern of coarse twine with patches of irregular cloth secured to it. Frowning, they did as asked as Milliea and Ritsuko finished up making thin poles and stakes. “Pay attention, this is how we set the camo up,” Ritsuko said, showing them how to use the thin poles to raise the camo up, securing the base in an irregular pattern with small wood stakes. When that was done, the two placed the cut-off branches here and there along the perimeter of the netting. Ritsuko had left the overlap of the ends in front of Mike's bow.

After showing them how to slip in and out without disturbing the netting, she had them go out and look back at Mike from about fifty feet away. To their surprise, they had to actually look for the tank, even though they knew it was there. Giving them a smile and a light slap on the shoulder, she herded them back into the netting and began to describe her plan to scout the shipyards. “What about the survivors of the knights you ran over the other day? They were headed south, and this is the largest city for miles, so they probably came from here, and will return here now that they have been wiped out,” pointed out Rapier.

“It will take them at least another two days to reach here, and that is assuming they want to risk facing Mike again,” came the darkly-smooth answer from the Elf Hunter. “Even odds, they find pressing matters elsewhere in this world,” she added with a smirk. “But you do make a point about time tables. I want to have this place in flames by the second morning if at all possible,” she said, her tone serious.

“You mean the shipyards, right?” pressed Rapier.

“Yeah, sure,” Ritsuko replied. “The shipyards first, at least,” she muttered. “Anyway, we need to scout the area to see what is available to work with,” she continued.

“Why not use your long cannon?” Gabriella asked, indicting Mike's main cannon.

“Hate to waste the shells,” was all Rit-chan would say. “But we might end up doing that anyway,” she added. “So here is the plan,” she said, using a stick to draw a crude map of the town from memory. When she was done, she changed into her native clothes, the group donned cloaks and they set out, reaching the gates just as the sun began to set.

Entering the city, the group meandered here and there, stopping in taverns and catching the few remaining vendors. Slowly, they worked closer to the shipyards, which seemed to be running at maximum capacity, hundreds of workers laboring on the ships nearing completion in the ways. Seeing guards posted, Ritsuko grunted softly. The guards were only watching the gates leading to the slipways themselves. Her eyes flickered over the shipyards. “There's a lot to work with here,” she murmured. “Any idea what those large barrels are for?” she asked her companions. The three elves looked over to several large barrels near the ship hulls. Next to them were some stone braziers with large, heavy pots over them.

“Looks like pitch sealant,” offered Gabriella. “Humans usually seal the bottoms of their ships before plating them in copper or silver,” she shared.

“Pitch, huh?” smiled Ritsuko. “Where would their supplier be?” she wondered, wandering off. The three elfin women exchanged looks, not following the thoughts of the human at all. An hour later, they were more confused even as they helped Ritsuko gather up ingredients from some shops in town before returning to Mike's position. When she got there, Ritsuko built an enclosed fire and began to work on the things they had bought, a disturbing smile on her lips as she worked on the materials.

The next morning, she was finishing up, having made a large batch of something that was thick, black and smelled like hell. Ritsuko went to wash off in the stream down the hill from their position, and the three wondered what she was planning. When she came back, Milliea insisted she eat, then managed to get her to take a nap. That nap lasted until late afternoon because Milliea bullied Gabriella into casting a mild sleep spell on her as she rested. When she woke up, she was annoyed that she had overslept, and swiftly gathered up the materials she had made, heading back into town with the other three.

Once night had fallen, Ritsuko had Rapier and Gabriella neutralize the guards to the shipways before she mingled with the workers so she could put a measure of the mixture she had made into the large pots over the braziers. With that done, she went back to the supplier and mixed in a different set of materials to the main supply of tar. When that was done, she had announced they were ready. Confused, the women followed her to a tavern, where they ate. When they were done eating, she led them back to Mike, where they took down the netting. Seeing her settle onto the turret, glasses in hand, they finally asked her about it.

“Wait for it,” she smirked. “When they get their next batch of pitch, it will be their last,” she purred. Hours passed before suddenly a fireball lit the sky, a roaring whistle arriving seconds after the fireball. Ritsuko giggled, binoculars to her eyes. “I see…one, two…and three shipways in flames, and the flames are spreading as they try to put it out with water, the morons,” she laughed evilly.

“How did you do that, Ritsuko?” asked Gabriella.

“Chemistry, Gabs, pure chemistry,” she laughed darkly. “On to the next target,” she ordered, slipping down to Mike's driver position and pulling on her night vision glasses. Mike growled out of the woods, caught the road that headed inland, crossed the first ford, and headed north again, the horizon behind them glowing as they drove through the night. Gabriella and Rapier exchanged looks as Ritsuko hummed happily.

“Chancellor Airi of the Kingdom of Raltaow,” announced the court page, tapping the floor with the ceremonial staff he carried, generating a clear note that put Airi in mind of the small bells that were used to summon staff to a counter back in her world. She swept into the Congress of Kings with a regal bearing that made many of the Kings feel uncomfortable. Glancing around at the seats, she hid a smirk as she saw many empty seats from the Southern Kingdoms. In fact, only three of the nine kings had managed to escape Ritsuko's rapid revolution. The actress suspected that the rest had not survived the coup.

“Chancellor, it is an honor to meet you,” the Alliance spokesman said. She noted his coat of arms as being from the Northern Kingdoms. “Long has Raltaow stood separate from the rest of the lands,” he added.

“We find it suits us better to take such a stance,” Airi replied calmly. “My Queen asked me to attend to the necessary negotiations after she assumed the throne, so I have been speaking to several of you over the last few months, but this is a great opportunity to speak with many of you at once,” she smiled warmly at the assembled kings. “But pray tell, why are there so many empty seats?” she asked innocently.

“Ah, a slave rebellion has arisen in the Southern Kingdoms,” began the spokesman uncomfortably. Airi hummed softly.

“I have heard rumors of such during my visits, but had not appreciated the scale of the uprising,” she began her work. “I see six empty seats. Am I to understand that the rebellion has taken six kingdoms?” she asked. The muttering grew.

“Well, though it is only temporary, the slave army has taken all nine Southern Kingdom kingdoms. The three here are temporarily exiled Kings,” one of the Western Kingdoms kings said, his tone indicating that he was taking a cheap shot at the group.

“Ah, so,” Airi inclined her head as if she hadn't caught what was being said. “How long do you think the Alliance military will take to recapture the Southern Kingdoms?” she asked as if she didn't know that there was no way in hell they would ever retake Ritsuko's conquests. “I have heard rumors it has been more than a year already since the rebellion started,” she added innocently.

“They have had some luck,” one of the exiled Kings replied, the fancily-dressed military man behind him glowering at her.

“I believe it more likely to be skill than luck, if an army of slaves has held off the entire might of the Allied Kingdoms,” replied Airi. “They appear to be well-led,” she added casually.

“We killed their leader - an Amazon sorceress calling herself `Boss' - this last spring,” came the tight response from the representative of the Allied Military Forces. Airi smiled thinly.

“I think I heard about that battle. Wasn't it the one that decimated the military?”

“We took heavier losses than we had planned for, but we cut off the snake's head,” the man insisted stiffly.

“If that is the case, the body of the snake remains remarkably capable, then,” observed Airi.

“And what interest of Raltaow is that?” huffed one of the Southern Kings. Airi gave the man a cool smile.

“It is our habit to avoid conflict zones. They are bad for business,” she cut back coldly. One of the major exports that Raltaow had was iron ore, copper and tin from the mountains that protected the kingdom. Obviously, if they withheld those, steel would be in short supply - something that would not profit the Allied Kingdoms. “One of the reasons my Queen sent me here was to assess the situation with the Allied Kingdoms. I must say with all honesty that the Alliance seems to be in disarray,” she stated bluntly.

“Disarray? Hardly, my dear Chancellor,” insisted the spokesman. “It is merely a slave rebellion that has had better luck than most and will soon be crushed.”

“On the way here, I heard a sailor from the Navy talking about the loss of four of the five blockade ships guarding the southern port. Eighty percent losses in one skirmish without a single enemy kill is not a sign of winning, my dear Kings,” Airi argued smoothly, “it is a sign that the enemy is overmatching your forces.”

Angry muttering came from many of the kings, as well as the military representative. “The port remains blockaded, and the ships lost will soon be replaced,” assured the military representative. Airi smiled.

“I am sure,” she placidly responded. “Has it not occurred to you any of you to explore negotiations with the Rebellion?” she asked.

“What purpose is there in negotiating with slaves?” scoffed the spokesman. Airi's eyes cooled a little.

“I see. Then, I can only conclude that my time is wasted here, and bid you gentlemen a good day,” she said, turning for the doors, light shining off her silver medallion that marked her as the Chancellor of the Kingdom for Raltaow. “I will report this to my Queen, whom I am sure will not wish to deal with such a volatile situation. We have found a new market overseas, so we will be able to maintain our economy without the business we usually do with the Alliance. I wish you gentlemen luck; you will need it,” she said before heading for the door to the room.

Just as she reached the door, she turned back, a thin smile on her lips. “Oh, and boys?” she called out, cutting through the angry muttering in the room. “I pray you don't get any foolish notions about attempting to force us to become involved in this fight. Though our military is far smaller than yours, we have never been defeated by an invader, and that will not change. Perhaps if you were willing to negotiate, things could be different, but alas, it is not so.”

The doors closed behind Airi as she exited the Congress building in the capital. Hecate fell into place beside her as she made her way back toward the boarding room they were staying in. “Mistress Airi, are you sure that was wise?” worried the servant, who had been quietly listening by the door.

“Patience, my dear Hecate,” Airi assured the woman. “This is how things work in politics: you sow the seed, wait a bit to see if it sprouts, water and feed it, then guide it as it grows. If you do it all correctly, you get a bountiful harvest for years to come.”

“How are you going to water this seed?” wondered Hecate. Airi's smile dimmed a little.

“Unfortunately, I fear my dear Rit-chan will be watering it for me,” she murmured. With blood and terror most likely, she thought grimly.

Airi missed the arrival of a panicked messenger by fifteen minutes, the military dispatches he carried underlining Airi's words. The Congress was very upset to learn that in the span of four days, all three shipyards in the Eastern Kingdoms had been burned to the ground. Furthermore, there were no suspects, no leads on how they had set such a massive fire without anyone noticing, nor on where they had come from or gone afterwards. The minor note about a column of knights bound for the staging camps vanishing had been overlooked in light of the loss of their three shipyards and the ships in them.

“Halt, you Alliance dog!” Junpei turned to frown at the group of men surrounding him.

“What do you idiots want?” he asked, absently flexing his hands in their gloves. The men leveled their spears and swords at him.

“We want to know where the rest of your unit is,” growled the leader of the group.

“I don't have a unit,” grinned Junpei. “I work alone. Now tell me where this `Boss' person is and we can call our business here done,” he added.

“Why do you want to know where Boss is?” wondered one of the group.

“Because I am going to kill her,” answered Junpei simply. The group twitched.

“Ok, boys, time for this Alliance pig to die,” ordered the leader, the group lunging for the lone figure. Less than a minute later, Junpei was alone on the road, the party sprawled out all over the place.

“Great, now how am I supposed to find this Boss person?” he asked himself aloud, scratching his head. Shrugging, he headed on down the road into the Southern Kingdoms. He could see a town on the horizon, and figured he could probably find something there.

It was after sundown when he arrived in the town. Finding a tavern, he entered, finding himself a spot at the bar and ordering a beer and the biggest plate of curry they had. The barkeep had gruffly informed him that he didn't know what beer or curry was, but he had ale and roasted pork with beans and rice. This was not what Junpei wanted to hear. Grumbling about fantasy worlds without curry, he ordered ale and some food, since his stomach was growling. As he ate, he noticed he was getting a lot of attention. Sighing, he finished up his meal and drained his ale.

“What do you pinheads want?” he asked loudly, standing by the bar, hands on his hips.

“Haven't seen you around these parts,” one of the bigger men in the room said, moving forward.

“Just got here,” shrugged Junpei. “Any of you screw-heads know where to find this `Boss' person?” he asked.

“Why you asking, stranger?”

“Well, because I am going to kill her,” Junpei answered. Honestly, what is it with these people? Is it something in the water or what? He wondered. The room went dead silent. “Where is she?” he asked.

“Nowhere near where you will be going,” the big man said, lunging for him, ham-sized fist back for a haymaker punch. Two minutes later, Junpei was surveying the tavern; or what was left of it. He and the barkeep were the only ones left conscious. Turning to the man, he sighed.

“Another ale,” he ordered. The barkeep silently slid it to him. “Don't suppose you know where this `Boss' person is?” he asked.

“Sorry, no,” the barkeep answered, beginning to clean up the mess. “Why do you want to kill her, stranger?” he asked.

Junpei frowned. “It's funny, but I don't know why,” he admitted. “I just know I need to kill her and capture a couple of run-away slave women,” he shrugged.

“Well, son, this is not the best place to try that,” the barman replied, unsure how anyone could be that stupid. But then, looking around him, he decided that intelligence was sometimes overrated. “Maybe you haven't heard, but the slaves in this area rebelled and are now free. They are led by this `Boss' person, and won't react well to you asking where she is and then announcing you plan to kill her.”

“Why wouldn't they?” he asked, making the barkeeper gape at him for a moment.

“Son, finish your drink and be on your way in case your stupidity is contagious,” sighed the bar keep. Junpei twitched.

“That's kind of rude,” he muttered. “Fine, just tell me where the nearest curry shop is,” he said to the man.

“I told you, I have no idea what this `curry' is,” the barkeep replied. “But try the southern port,” he added, inspiration hitting him.

“Southern port, you say? Ok,” Junpei nodded, heading for the door. Just before he left, he looked back at the man. “Say, which way is south from here again?”

“Airi?”

The actress turned to see a nondescript woman standing to the side of her, apparently busy looking at the dresses in the shop window. “I'm sorry, do I know you?” murmured back Airi.

“I serve Inoue,” came the quiet reply. Airi inhaled a bit deeper than usual. Ritsuko had an agent here? she thought to herself.

“I am Airi,” confirmed the actress. “Why did you seek me out?” she asked, leaning closer to study the fine stitching on a dress on the other side of the door to the shop.

“Boss gave orders,” was all the woman said. “Do you have instructions for me or are you seeking an update?” came the quite voice.

“I was not aware you were here,” Airi replied honestly. “I have no instructions from Boss, but I am always willing to hear what you have learned,” she added.

“Come to the bordello on the corner by the eastern river gate after the tenth bell. Ask for the manager,” the woman said before moving off, swiftly disappearing into the crowd. Airi window-shopped for another half hour before heading back to the room she was staying in. Swiftly writing up a few letters, she sealed them and had them sent. It was getting short on time if she was going to return to Raltaow before the passes became snowed in.

After a dinner meeting with the king of the kingdom and an after-dinner conference, she returned to her room and changed clothes before slipping out and heading for the appointed place. She reached the location as the bells struck ten times. For a long minute, she studied the bordello. It was still doing a fairly brisk business, but most of the people were exiting the building, not entering it. Pulling her cloak a bit closer around her face, she headed for the door.

“Sorry, we're closed for the night,” grunted one of the two big bruisers outside the doors.

“I have business with the manager,” stated Airi, her tone cool. The guards blinked, realizing she was a woman.

“Sorry, ma'am, no women allowed,” he replied. Airi snorted at that. “I mean, no women who don't work here. We had some…trouble with wives and jilted lovers,” he sort-of explained.

“Well, I am neither,” she replied. “And I have business with the manager.”

The two bruisers looked at each other, trying to decide what to do. Sighing, Airi brushed back her hood, giving them her best coy look. “Really, boys, do you not understand the kind of business the manager would have because she runs a bordello?” The men blinked before coloring a bit.

“Um, ok, you can go in,” the first one said.

“But we gotta check you for weapons,” the second said. Airi gave him a long stare. “It's the manager's rules,” he added defensively. After another few heartbeats, Airi raised her hands, the men quickly frisking her, though they would only have found weapons if she had them tucked into her cleavage, strapped to her inner thighs or tucked into her panties. Moments after they had started to just plain out grope her, she cleared her throat. The men stepped back, opening the door.

Entering the bordello, she spotted a young girl - barely twelve if that old - standing by a small table, which had several ribbon-decorated lengths of wood on it. Hearing the door, she turned to look at Airi. “We are closed for the night, mistress,” she said simply, turning back to the table.

“I am here on business with the manager. Fetch her for me,” Airi replied. The young woman looked at her again before slipping away silently. Hearing some sounds, she turned to the beaded doorway that led deeper into the bordello. A few moments later, a rather repulsive man came down the stairs, his shirt barely on and his dick still hanging out of his fly, an older whore hanging on his arm with practiced eagerness, though Airi saw her eyes were flat and her attention was obviously elsewhere even as she simpered and praised the customer. Airi faded into the corner, cloak over her face again as the professional showed the man the door, telling him she couldn't wait for his next visit.

No sooner had the door closed than she spat air, a grimace on her face as she turned to the table, placing another ribbon-decorated stick there. “Griea, you are on greeting duty,” she called out, sounding peeved. “You can't leave until all the rooms are cleared or you will get in trouble,” she warned, already walking away without waiting to see if she got a reply or not.

Airi wondered how many customers were left. The young girl returned. “Manager will see you shortly,” she said, glancing at the table.

“So, how many are left?” Airi asked, her tone friendly and engaging.

“Two more,” sighed Griea, “I want to go home already,” she added, sounding tired and bored.

“You don't live here?” she asked. The girl shook her head.

“I got this job to help my family,” she explained. “The manager apparently decided to hire girls from the poor sections of the city to greet the customers so that she wasn't wasting a whore on greeting.” Airi blinked.

“And your family is ok with you working in a bordello?” she asked, surprised.

The girl nodded. “It pays daily, and it's not like there are any other prospects for most of us. Besides, my oldest sister works here,” she added.

“How many other girls work here like you do?” wondered Airi.

“Three or four. We take turns covering the counter. It's not so bad - the customers aren't allowed to touch us, but we can get a head start if we end up working here,” she sounded almost glad of that.

Sounds from behind the beaded curtain interrupted their discussion, a burly ruffian slouching out of the doorway, his eyes flickering over to Griea before touching on Airi. “You the new girl?” he asked Airi.

“No,” was all he got, along with an icy stare. The man grunted again before looking back to Griea.

“Let me know when you start, girl,” he said before slouching out the door. Moments later, the whore came down, ribbon stick in hand.

“Hey sis, all done for tonight,” sighed the woman. Airi's sharp eyes saw signs of bruising on her arms and neck. Griea took the stick.

“Got one still out,” replied the younger sister. Her older sister was moving her arms and legs, wincing every now and then.

“Was that ape violent with you?” asked Airi, her eyes on the older sister. The whore flinched, not having noticed Airi.

“Not really,” she replied. Airi knew better than to believe that, as her eyes told her a different story.

“Did he at least tip well?” pressed Airi. The two sisters exchanged looks.

“Why the interest? You shopping for new talent for your bordello?” asked the older one. Airi gave her a bland smile.

“Not exactly,” she replied. “But I do have business with the manager, and can request some changes.” The siblings stiffened.

“Please, miss…!” began the older of the two. Airi held up her hand.

“You misunderstand,” she interrupted the two, “I am on your side. Call it a convergence of interests,” murmured the actress, hearing another door bang open, accompanied by loud, raucous laughter from both a man and a woman. Thuds and bumps preceded the last worker and her patron arriving at the foyer. The whore was clearly very experienced; and also very obviously messed up on some sort of drug. Her patron would be a gangbanger in Airi's world.

“See you soon,” cooed the woman, tittering as she slumped against the wall.

“You know it,” crowed the man, waving on his feet a little. “Next time, I'll bring some of the new stuff,” he promised, stumbling a little and catching himself on the table with the tokens. Blinking, he studied Griea for a moment before reaching for her. “New talent,” he breathed heavily. Griea cringed away.

Before the man's hand could touch her, Airi grabbed his wrist, pulling it away. “No touching the staff, sir,” she said coolly. “Thank you for your patronage, and please allow me to show you the door,” she added, guiding him with his wrist toward the door. Instead of opening it, she leveraged him into the door, generating a satisfying thump! “Dear me, I forgot the door is closed,” Airi apologized, a dangerous smile on her lips.

The man was holding his nose. “You bitch…” he began as blood ran down his face. Just then, the door opened and one of the bouncers looked in.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Airi interjected herself smoothly before either could react. “Please escort our esteemed customer out of the house. He is having some trouble with leaving,” Airi said, giving the bouncer a look that made him gulp. Grabbing the guy, he jerked him out of the house, closing the door behind him.

“Who are you?” wondered Griea. The drugged whore was glowering at Airi.

“I told you before, did I not?” smiled Airi, spotting the manager arriving. “Ah, there you are. The last key has been returned, so shall we get down to business?” she hinted. The manager nodded.

“Griea, you are done for the night,” she said before handing the girl a small stack of coins. The younger girl took them eagerly.

“And a bonus for you,” Airi said, dropping two more gold coins in her hands. “Now run along,” she said, inclining her head toward the door. Griea darted out the door.

“Get your rooms cleaned up and bathe for tomorrow,” ordered the manager of the two whores. Airi subtly touched the older sister's shoulder, pressing a couple of gold coins into her hand when she turned to look at Airi. Nodding, Airi followed the manager into the back of the establishment.

Reaching a small room, the manager shut the door and secured it before settling in a plain chair. Airi leaned against the wall next to the door. “Before we begin, Airi, I want you to know that I am not interested in your opinion of me or my methods,” began the woman, her voice low and calm. “Boss approved my plans before she sent me out. Whorehouses are gold mines of information, and they allow reach into nearly every strata of society. No one thinks of whores as anything but a place to put their dick, and so they are free with their mouths; more so than with their gold, even. So disapprove of me all you want - it means nothing to me.”

“Obviously,” Airi murmured back, her tone bland and even. “But I think I should point out to you that careful management of your `talent' will yield better results than using them up and discarding them.”

“I am aware of that. Why do you think I have the `no touching' rule for the help? By giving them the option of a different path and gold, I buy the good-will of their families, thus expanding my reach. Also, I cultivate a trust relationship with the best of the staff and whores, so they come to me first. It is how I have gained intelligence on some of the military's plans for the winter offense against Boss,” the manager replied.

“Fair enough. Tell me what you know, and if you have needs I can help you with,” Airi nodded.

“What can you help me with? I know only that Boss said you were an ally,” noted the manager. Airi gave her a smile.

“Tell you what,” she answered, “give me your report, then tell me what you need, and I will see what I can do.”

“What's wrong, Ritsuko?”

The elf hunter twitched. “Nothing, Milliea,” she insisted, swiftly lathering up her hips and thighs with a bar of soap. She was glad to have soap from her world again after so long with the harsh, burning lye soap that the slaves were given from time to time. It was that lack of hygienic supplies that she blamed for the infections she had gotten while a slave. Absently, she traced the scar on her side, scowling blackly at the memory. True, she had taken a measure of satisfaction at the screams of the man who had done that to her begging for mercy before she tossed the torch in her hand into the pyre of dried sugar cane stalks that were built up around his feet, but it didn't help her now.

“Something is bothering you,” Rapier said from beside her. Ritsuko bit back a sharp reply.

“Just thinking,” insisted the girl, covertly glancing at her fingers after she had washed off the soap foam covering her groin. No unusual discharge, she thought, lathering up her calves and feet. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? she wondered.

“You know, Ritsuko,” Gabriella said from where she lounged in the hot spring behind them, “we aren't stupid. We also aren't enemies. Tell us what is on your mind.”

Ritsuko remained silent as she rinsed off with a final bucket of cool water piped in from a near-by spring. “It's a human thing; from my world,” she begged off. “I'm going to call it a night,” she added, heading for the hook with her towel on it.

“No soak in the spring?” Gabriella asked.

“Not tonight,” came the answer over her shoulder as she exited the bathing area. Rapier and Milliea joined Gabriella in the spring. They had reached the west coast of the Allied Kingdoms an hour before, having run more or less non-stop from the Eastern Kingdoms, across the Central Kingdoms and straight into the Western Kingdoms. It had taken them three days - something none of them thought possible. It was usually a week or more to go coast-to-coast. For most of the trip, Ritsuko had been silent and moody.

“Do you think it might be her Slave Rune?” Milliea wondered.

“Possibly, but I doubt it,” Gabriella replied. “But speaking of that…” she raised her hands, casting Moonlight Mirror. A few moments later, Annette appeared in the solid dark mirror in front of the three. “Annette,” she called, getting the priestess's attention.

“Gabriella, Rapier, Milliea,” she nodded to the three. “That reminds me, I need a bath,” she muttered, getting up from the desk she had been working at. The mirror followed her. “What's the reason for this call?” she asked.

“Ritsuko is acting a bit moody and distracted. Have you learned anything about the Slave Rune spell?” replied Rapier.

“Not much, no,” admitted Annette. “For obvious reasons, it isn't well documented in any of our libraries,” grimaced the priestess. “Probably for the best that they killed their masters before they could transfer the key to someone else,” muttered Annette.

“Has Airi been doing anything unusual lately?” asked Gabriella.

“Hard to say what is usual and what is unusual lately,” pointed out the younger elf. “She has been asking about healers lately,” recalled Annette.

“Did she get injured?” wondered Milliea.

“Not that I am aware, but she and Ritsuko did spend some time talking about healers and colleges of medicine before they parted ways,” shrugged the priestess.

“Ritsuko isn't injured,” Milliea insisted. Gabriella hummed, thinking.

“Annette, is there a good healer in the Western Kingdoms?” asked the oldest of the elves. Annette frowned as she thought.

“Come to think of it, there is a famous fellowship of healers in the southern part of the Western Kingdoms,” recalled the priestess. “Why?” she asked.

“Just curious,” Gabriella said. “Changing the subject, has Airi or Ritsuko either one told you want happened to them while they were slaves? Other than the ultimate outcome?” clarified the fighter.

“Um, not that I recall,” admitted Annette. “Why is that important?”

“Probably not,” dismissed Gabriella casually. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Um, not that I can think of off the bat. Oh! What are you all going to be doing over there?” asked Annette. Rapier and Gabriella exchanged sharp smiles.

“Probably what we did on the East Coast,” they agreed.

“You know winter is coming,” pointed out the priestess.

“Yeah. And?”

“Do you know if they are planning to winter in Raltaow?” pressed Annette.

“No idea, but I doubt it. It would effectively remove them from all contact with the Allied Kingdoms for more than six months,” pointed out Gabriella.

“Keep me posted?”

“Sure,” Gabriella dismissed the spell.

“You thought of something,” Rapier stated.

“Maybe,” hedged the older orange-haired elf. “Hope I am wrong,” she muttered. But I doubt it, she said to herself.

“So, spill it,” commanded her quasi-partner.

“I was just thinking about how many slaves are treated. It just never occurred to me that people as powerful as them could end up in the same situation, but that is wrong - they did end up being slaves; for years. You all saw the scars on them, right? Well, that is not the only thing that happens to slaves,” Gabriella hinted.

“Especially female slaves,” Rapier got the hint, a scowl on her face. Milliea tilted her head.

“What happens to slaves?” she asked. Rapier and Gabriella exchanged looks, debating if they should spell it out for her or not. They knew she was rather child-like and naïve mentally, after all.

“In addition to beatings, poor living conditions and limited diets, female slaves are often used for…entertainment by many slave owners,” Gabriella explained delicately.

“It would explain why she is so angry at them,” Rapier added, thinking aloud.

“But, Rit-chan wasn't a virgin,” Milliea argued.

“It wasn't a one-time thing, kid,” Gabriella elaborated.

“And she didn't want to participate,” hinted Rapier. Milliea processed that for a long moment before gasping.

“That's unforgivable!” she exclaimed, all but leaping out of the water and running - naked - to the room she shared with the elf hunter.

“Yeah, I get the impression Ritsuko feels the same,” chuckled Gabriella. “But I don't know why that would still be pre-occupying her, or why she would be looking for healers,” she shared her riddle with her friend.

“It could be something else, but related to that,” suggested Rapier. “Maybe she had a kid and it died or was sold away while she was a slave? But I don't see any sign she has carried a kid to term,” she hypothesized.

“Maybe the abuse damaged her?” Gabriella suggested. Rapier shrugged.

“Again, no signs of that,” she pointed out. “I mean it isn't like she's a whore, with…gods, that's it!” gasped the younger of the two. Gabriella took a second to assemble the riddle.

“Gods, this is the last thing we needed,” she groaned.

“Maybe we are wrong,” hoped the dark-haired elf.

“Our luck hasn't been that good lately,” came the sardonic reply from her dark elf friend. “But, we do know there is a group of healers in this area, and I think if we work together with Milliea, we can get her to go see them,” smiled Gabriella.

Airi looked out the window of the room in the palace she was staying in during her visit to the King of one of the richest kingdoms in the Central Kingdoms. It formed the largest kingdom in the entire Allied Kingdoms, and shared part of a border with the Southern Kingdoms, but there were no passes in the border that could support troop movements, so it was mostly untouched by the rebellion. But the fact that slavery was a widely-popular institution in the kingdom made it a necessary visit; and not just for Airi.

“Mistress, the King has extended an invitation to another banquet, this time hosted by a baron of the court, tonight on his hunting grounds. It is about two hours by coach from here,” reported Hecate.

“Which baron?” asked Airi, grimacing a little. The fare in this kingdom leaned heavily toward fire-roasted meats in heavy, spicy sauces and the ever-popular rice, beans and heavy greens with corn-based bread. Like being stuck on location in the Deep South doing a reboot of `Deliverance', she thought sourly. She would need at least two extra stomachs if this was going to be happening every single evening. So far, she had been in the kingdom for a week, and in that time, she had only not been to a banquet once.

“I believe it is the Baron of Salladia,” Hecate reported. Of course it is one of the ones I need to sway, Airi thought resignedly.

“Please inform the king that I would be delighted to attend,” she directed, Hecate bowing. When her body servant did not immediately depart, she turned to look at Hecate directly. “There is something else?” prompted the Chancellor.

“It is late summer, Mistress,” Hecate replied. “First snowfall in the passes could happen in as little as two weeks.”

“I am aware, Hecate,” Airi confirmed. “But my job is not yet done,” she added.

“The Queen asked you to return to discuss certain matters with her before the passes are blocked, did she not?” reminded the servant.

“She did,” confirmed Airi.

“It will take us at least two weeks to reach the passes,” noted Hecate.

“I am aware, dear Hecate,” came the reply. “Am I to interpret this as your being homesick?” she prodded.

“Never, my Mistress!” denied the younger servant fervently. “I serve you, Mistress,” she earnestly pledged.

“I am happy to hear that, dear Hecate. Please tell the king we will be attending,” she dismissed the servant, who left this time.

Airi had been wrestling with a complicated decision for a while now. The decision was rather or not to return to make sure everything remained on track in Raltaow, and if she did, could she convince Ritsuko to come with her. It would place them both out of play for the winter, and that could be a problem if the military attacked the Rebellion while they were confined. Then there was the issue of how Ritsuko would react to the suggestion.

Pushing the thoughts aside for the moment, she focused on planning out her plan of attack as she got ready. Hecate returned as she was preparing to bathe, and eagerly assisted. Then, the two selected the gown, did Airi's makeup and hair, selected her perfume for the evening and finally got her dressed. The fashion at the moment was for the women attending banquets to eat heartily, though in other years, it had been to eat only a few mouthfuls and leave plenty of food on the plates. Airi wished it had been that phase that was in popularity right then. Still, with Hecate's help, she could make it seem she was eating more than any five lords put together - all while remaining slim and appealing. The two boarded the coach and endured the ride through the hot, somewhat arid countryside to the hunting reserve of the baron. Already, three large fire pits were going, and wagon loads of meats and food stuffs were being prepared for cooking by the staff and the slaves.

“Chancellor Airi, a pleasure to see you could attend tonight,” the King greeted her.

“It was my pleasure, your majesty,” she demurred. “And I thank you for the invitation, Baron,” she inclined her head politely to the Baron, who had hurried over when she arrived. “Forgive me for bringing up business so early, but have you perhaps given any further thought to the matter we were discussing the day before yesterday?”

“I have, in fact,” the Baron said, sounding disappointed that she was talking shop. “But surely such boring talk can wait until after our meal?”

“Perhaps, but I received word from my Queen she expects me to return soon, and I have another stop to make. Once I am over the passes, it will be at least half a year before I can return, due to the pass's becoming impassable during the freeze,” cautioned Airi. The Baron and the King exchanged looks before subtly moving her a bit farther away from the other guests.

“Chancellor Airi, you make a good case for pushing for peace negotiations with the rebelling slaves,” began the King, “but it is a very unpopular topic with the Congress, and I fear there is no real support for it within my own court.”

“So, that is your decision, Baron?” Airi asked directly.

“Please understand, Chancellor, that I agree with my King about the case you made for negotiating, but we share no common border with the Southern Kingdoms that can be crossed by a fighting force, our army is largely within our borders and is still more numerous than the entire rebel slave army, so even if they attacked us through our neighbors, we would be quite safe. And as the King alluded, the nobility of the land feel that negotiating with slaves sets a dangerous precedence; one that will very likely inspire more rebellions simply because one succeeded to some measure and our negotiating with them would be seen as a victory for the slaves who rose up,” explained the Baron.

“Your majesty, your grace, have you forgotten the news we got the day I arrived?” she asked, her tone level and serious.

“About the shipyards?” confirmed the King. “A small incident, likely little more than accidents caused by improper haste in the construction of the ships. I myself have seen a house I ordered built burn to the ground because I pushed the architect to hurry the build to the point where the chimney was improperly finished,” argued the king, absently polishing one of his rings on his surcoat.

“That is a brave stance, given the reports of movement of what is believed to be an iron chariot in the area in a direct timeline with the burning of the shipyards,” pointed out Airi. “I have also heard that forts along the front lines have been annihilated with no survivors, which means that a group of soldiers from the Rebellion could have escaped into the Eastern and Central Kingdoms. Is it not possible that the burning of the shipyards was the action of such a group?” she prodded.

“Slaves with a knowledge of tactics, map reading and the skill of arms to do such a thing? Ridiculous!” scoffed the Duke.

“Their leader has led the first successful slave rebellion in history and has defeated every attempt to defeat her made by the entire Alliance. I believe that would suggest that she knows what she is doing, and could well have taught her army some of those skills,” Airi planted the seed.

“But there has been no report of enemy movement within the kingdoms,” insisted the King.

“Would that not suggest the parties are small or perhaps work with sympathetic persons within the kingdoms?” countered the woman smoothly. The king and duke exchanged uneasy looks. “Tell me, my good king, could your army handle the leader of the rebellion and the iron chariot she used to decimate the entire Allied Kingdoms military?”

“But she was slain in that fight, the military assured us,” the King insisted.

“My information suggests that she might have survived,” Airi mused, before smiling. “But, theoretically speaking, could your army fare any better than the Alliance military did?”

Before he could answer, the wife of the Baron and the Queen arrived to speak with her, and for the next four hours, she planted seeds in their heads and poisoned the conversation of the event, all without seeming to say or do anything.

“Another shipyard in flames,” smiled Ritsuko, watching through her binoculars. The three elves with her silently watched as well.

“Are you a witch or mage, Ritsuko?” wondered Milliea. Ritsuko giggled softly.

“No, but if you know a few things, it can sure seem that way, can't it?” she asked. “Come on; we're done here,” she said, turning away from the brightly-blazing fires consuming the shipyard. This time, she had studied the situation for two days before finally settling on a plan of action. The elves had watch, puzzled, as she bought large quantities of nuts and cheeses, which she began to leave in small piles by the far wall of the warehouses during the night. After three nights of this, she started putting the food in small tubs, then in deeper tubs, and finally into wine barrels, using a simple wooden plank to let the rats into the barrels, from which they couldn't escape easily. But, with the nuts and cheeses, they didn't try that hard. Ritsuko had put a temporary lid on the barrels, then poured in a mixture of cooking oils and waxes into the barrels. The rats were panicked, but then calmed as nothing happened. After every rat was completely and totally soaked in the mixture, she had the elves help her position them at the far corner of the shipyard. With that done, she had removed the temporary covers, tossed in a few handfuls of coarse sawdust then dropped a lit match into each barrel. Once the last one was lit, she kicked over the first one, and the rats - burning like little torches - had run in every direction, though most of them ran into and around the warehouses, which were soon on fire, the winds spreading the flames to the shipyards in minutes. Ritsuko had been laughing evilly as the flaming rats played rodent arsonists.

“So why didn't the rats just burn to death?” asked Rapier.

“The oils and waxes were the fuel, the rats' fur was the fuel reserve, and the sawdust acted as wicks. When mixed like it was, the oil and wax burn hot - very hot - but because the sawdust was pulling the combustible materials from the reserve, the rats were on fire, but not burning; well, at first. They will all finally burn to death, but they are only rats,” she shrugged. “It is a different take on a simple oil lamp,” she smiled to herself. “Their fear of the fire encasing them drove them to run, and their instincts sent them into the warehouse, which was upwind of the shipyards. Ships are built of dried lumber so when it swells with water, the ships become even more seaworthy, but that makes the lumber very flammable. The winds blow strong and steady from the southwest at this time of evening, so they acted like bellows, creating a somewhat weak firestorm. Job done,” she finished sounding very satisfied.

“Flaming rats. What will she think of next?” murmured Gabriella in awe; and a bit of fear. This was not the Ritsuko she was familiar with; even if she hadn't been very familiar with her to begin with. The group slipped out of the city and headed for Mike, who had been positioned on a low bluff some distance from the town.

“Kind of reminds me of our first elf stripping, actually,” Ritsuko shared candidly. “Only, it was fish pirates and I was shooting from a position like Mike has. Good times, in retrospect,” she muttered.

“I assume we are heading for the second shipyard on this coast?” Rapier asked.

“Yeah,” Ritsuko replied, staring aimlessly at the sky from where she had stretched out on top of Mike. The tank was running along the main road for the time being, the darkness of pre-dawn covering them.

“Mind if we make a couple of stops along the way?” Gabriella asked casually. “The ships on these shipyards have only barely had their keels laid, so there is time,” she added. Ritsuko considered that.

“Sure,” she agreed. “Wake me just past dawn,” she ordered, draping a forearm across her eyes and falling into a light sleep. Gabriella pulled out a map, Rapier leaning closer to her as they studied the map using one of the strange torches that Ritsuko preferred. Milliea watched Ritsuko for a bit before she spoke up.

“What are you two planning?” she asked.

“We're going to try and help Ritsuko,” Rapier answered. “So, somewhere in here?” she directed the question to Gabriella.

“Best guess, based on what I know. It has been over three thousand years, though, so it is just a guess,” she warned.

“Would anything have survived?” Rapier wondered.

Gabriella shrugged. “We will have to find out, I guess. Mike should get us most of the way, then you and I can run it down within a couple days either way. Milliea,” the dark elf turned to the swords-elf, “can you take care of Ritsuko for a few days while Rapier and I check out something in the hills?”

“Sure!” smiled Milliea.

“We mean making sure she rests, eats and doesn't run off somewhere,” Rapier clarified. Milliea considered that.

“I think I can,” she answered a moment later.

“Do what you have to, Milliea,” Gabriella replied, eyes back on the map. “So, the fellowship is in this town, so if we come in through here to reach the last major shipyard, we will be going right past it.”

“Yeah, but will she even go talk to them, is the question,” Rapier replied.

“Depends, I guess,” grunted Gabriella. “What if we ask her to accompany us to see them then rope her into getting checked out; or at least talking with them?”

“She would wonder why elves are seeing human doctors,” predicted Rapier. Gabriella frowned.

“Yeah, she would, wouldn't she,” agreed the dark elf.

“What about getting some of her old wounds looked at? I know a few of them must irritate her from time to time,” suggested the fighter.

“Maybe. Or we could suggest that she might find something there to give her more ideas about how to kill her enemies,” Gabriella brain-stormed.

“Ritsuko wouldn't trust a group of doctors to have anything she could use,” Milliea said quietly. “Why not just ask her to get checked out for our sakes? I know she would listen!” insisted the youngest of the elves.

“Uh, yeah, sure she would, Milliea,” agreed the two older elves. Learning impediment, learning impediment…! they frantically reminded themselves to keep from ridiculing the sweet young weapon. The two were still brainstorming when the sun rose and Ritsuko stirred. Sitting up, she yawned, stretching a bit while grimacing. Picking up her binoculars, she scanned the area around them before directing Mike down a smaller side-road. The tank easily switched over, taking them along less-traveled routes to the next town, which was usually about two full day's ride by horse. By evening, they were enjoying some food in a tavern.

After the meal, the two carefully broached the subject of visiting the fellowship of doctors, but were careful to keep it vague, hinting that they might find useful information there. Ritsuko was suspicious to say the least, but she didn't flatly say no, so they considered it a victory. The group retired for the night after circulating through several taverns and bars to see what the current gossip was. They returned to Mike before dawn and were on their way by first light.

Two days later, Gabriella and Rapier waved as they headed off on an overgrown trail that led up into the high range of mountains that were about a hundred miles inland from the coast. Ritsuko watched them go from where she was resting on top of Mike, who was situated in a position that was more camouflaged than usual and dug in more than usual. He could cover all the approaches except for the ravine to their left, and Ritsuko had rigged a simple string-and-bell warning system there, keeping one of her M16s ready and pointed at the throat of the ravine just in case. She had also swung the .50 around to point down the throat of the ravine as well.

Milliea was sitting next to her, smiling and humming a little as she watched the clouds through the branches of the old hardwood tree Mike was positioned under. Ritsuko got comfortable next to her and began to clean her pistol, even though it was immaculate and she hadn't fired a round since the last time she cleaned it - two days before. The elf shifted her eyes to watch Ritsuko working with her pistol. “Ritsuko, are you feeling ok?” Milliea asked.

“I guess,” came the distracted answer. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want you to see a healer and get checked out,” came the disingenuous answer. Ritsuko almost dropped the frame of her pistol.

“What?!” she sputtered.

“I want you to see a healer and get checked out,” repeated Milliea. “It would make us all feel better if you would. I'll go with you!” she offered earnestly. Ritsuko grimaced before swiftly reassembling her pistol.

“I don't have time for that nonsense,” she grunted.

“We have time,” argued Milliea. “It won't even take an hour, you know,” she enticed as best as she could.

“I don't mean the time, Milliea,” sighed Ritsuko. She can be so exasperating to talk to…! she silently snarled, but without much anger. Milliea was honest to a fault, and was shockingly sweet-natured to be wearing and using cursed armor and swords. And honestly, Ritsuko appreciated her child-like innocence and optimism now more than ever.

“But you said you didn't have the time then said you didn't mean the time. So what did you mean?” pressed the short-haired elf. Ritsuko cycled the slide on her pistol, decocked it and tucked it into the holster on her belt.

“You know the others and I are from a different world, right, Milliea?” began Ritsuko. It's ok if I tell her; she won't really understand but it will make her feel better for knowing I told her, even if she doesn't understand, decided the human. Milliea nodded. “Well, in my world, the science of health is so advanced that anything the doctors here do falls into the `witchdoctor' category. With me so far?” she asked.

“Yes!” chirped Milliea cheerfully. Ritsuko found herself smiling a little.

“Ok,” she confirmed, “Your world knows what diseases are, but they have no clue how to detect, identify them or treat them, because the science behind such things is unknown here. Because of what happened to me, I suspect that I might have gotten sick, and that sickness could have long-term implications for me. My problem - and Airi's too, I suppose - is that no one here can identify the diseases without the symptoms, let alone treat them. Still with me?” she asked.

Milliea considered that. “Yes, I think so,” she said after a moment. “But you aren't sick,” she replied. Ritsuko hummed, leaning back to look at the clouds as well.

“Not in any way that your world understands the term, no, but…” she shook her head. “And that is why I can't waste the time visiting what passes for doctors here who can't even grasp the concept of viruses and bacteria and the like,” the last came out as a near snarl. “This world doesn't even have penicillin, for fuck's sake!” she all but screamed.

Arms encircled her and pulled her to an armored chest. “I won't say I understand everything you said, but I know you are unhappy and stressed. If you are worried about your health, see a doctor - the worst case is that they can't help. It isn't like you would lose anything, right?” Milliea reasoned simply. Ritsuko didn't reply. “Please, Ritsuko?” she begged.

“I'll think about it,” mumbled Ritsuko. Milliea held her hug for several more minutes before Rit-chan pulled away, wet tracks on her cheeks. As Ritsuko wiped her cheeks with a handkerchief, Milliea had one more question.

“What's this penicillin thing?”

Ritsuko gave a rough, uneven laugh. “It's what you get the guy who has everything - old joke from my world,” she answered. She was silent for a long moment before she asked a question of her own. “Hey, Milliea? Don't suppose you know what STDs are going around in this world?”

“What's an STD?” came back the immediate response.

“Of course,” sighed Ritsuko. “It is a particular group of diseases spread through sex,” she explained, just in case.

“Oh! No, I can't say I do. I'm a virgin,” she said, still smiling innocently. “Gabriella or Rapier might know,” she added helpfully.

“Thanks, but I'll pass. Don't repeat any of this conversation, ok?”

“Ok,” chirped Milliea, though Ritsuko knew enough to know that Milliea might inadvertently let some or all of it slip out in conversation. She mentally shrugged - too late to worry about that now.

“Any idea where those two are going?” Ritsuko asked, opening a new topic.

“Not really. They said they wanted to check on something. Apparently only Gaby knows what they are after, but since she and Rapier work together so often, they are both going. Don't worry, they will be back soon,” assured Milliea. “In the meantime, we can rest and relax,” she smiled eagerly.

“Sure,” came the off-hand reply. Ritsuko's mind was already on the last major shipyard, though. It was easier than thinking about the other problem. I'll give them three days, then I am leaving them here, she decided. That shipyard needed to burn, and it needed to burn sooner rather than later.

Annette looked out the windows of the office in the temple at the riot of colors on the trees around the city. The night before they had their first true hard frost but the temperatures had been falling steadily as winter approached again, prompting the leaves to change colors and begin to fall. Annette looked over at the thermometer on her desk, wondering if it would be another cold winter. She hoped not; it would mean things would be more difficult if Airi went back to Raltaow.

Standing, she stretched before heading toward the exit. She needed to think and get something to eat, and she found she had long since lost interest in the plain food served in the temple refectory. Besides, why should she eat that stuff when there was a whole town just outside their gates that had numerous places to eat with hundreds of choices? Moreover, she needed to figure out what to say to Airi next time she talked to her via Moonlight Mirror. Her research into the Slave Rune spell had not been encouraging.

Nodding to the worshippers and citizens alike as she made her way out of the temple and into the city, she wondered if it would be possible to find the original mage who had cast the spell and get him to release it. The temple archives had nothing of any particular use to say on the spell, since it was a spell of the dark arts; and looked down on even in those circles. The braids-wearing elf perked up a little at the other bit of news she had learned. She had been speaking with various healers about the issues Airi had brought up, and she was mildly-optimistic that a solution could be found; especially if Airi and Ritsuko contributed what they could about how such things worked on their world. And she had found a healer - an adherent of the White Arts - who claimed they could reverse the disfiguration of Airi!

“That should cheer them up,” she smiled to herself. After all, if the healer could repair Airi's scars and remove her tattoos, then she should be able to do the same for Ritsuko, right? Finding a restaurant with heavenly smells coming from it, she entered and found a seat, waiting for the waitress to come over. A few minutes later, the waitress did, dropping off a cup of cool water and asking her what she wanted. Annette settled on the house stew, some sweet bread, a plate of fresh vegetables mixed with figs, olives and dates along with a glass of wine.

While she waited, she relaxed, gradually tuning into the conversations going on around her. A particular thread caught her interest. Casually turning her head a bit, she caught sight of two military officers in the far corner, hunched over their small table and nursing large mugs of ale as they spoke to each other quietly. We elves have great ears, though, she thought smugly as she easily focused on the conversation.

It was very apparent that the military was having some trouble. First, the shipyards on the East coasts had been hit, costing them three nearly-complete warships along with the yards themselves. Ritsuko was certainly thorough, Annette thought snidely. Then, news had reached them of the total loss of one of the two remaining shipyards on the West coasts. The military was desperately trying to tighten security on the last fully-functional and intact shipyard, but it would take them a few weeks to get more troops to that location, since the vast majority of the Allied military was engaged in blocking the Rebellion. Better hurry, boys - Ritsuko is impatient these days, thought the priestess gleefully.

But what really caught her attention was the news that the first probing attack against the Rebels had been a catastrophe. It should have been a simple probing attack to test the reaction of the Rebel outposts, easy to disengage and fall back or to reinforce and push deeper, depending on the response, but it had unfolded into a major disaster. The lead elements had managed to isolate an outpost, and called for reinforcements, but once the reinforcements were across the river, the bridge had suddenly collapsed in a fireball, stranding the troops already committed on the wrong side of the river. Then, the outpost - which had seemed to be teetering on the brink of being over-run had suddenly counter-attacked while two support columns of Rebel soldiers had struck along the banks of the river. The Alliance military had been forced to surrender to save what men they could.

Annette sobered a little as the military officers complained about the aftermath of that surrender. Apparently, the Rebellion army was not overly-keen on taking prisoners. More than a few high-ranking officers in the assault forces were killed outright, while many of the wounded were dispatched where they fell before their bodies were tossed into the river. The rest were stripped, bound and taken away by the support columns. No one had heard anything in days. Furious, the commander of that section of the line ordered siege catapults be built on the river banks to bombard the outpost of the rebels. Construction was on-going, but slow because woodcutting parties often vanished if they were small, and would take twice as long to get trees to the sites if they were large and the unreliable supply lines had trouble getting rope to the camps; same as with food, replacement armor and canvas for tents.

There had been attempts to make the bridge passable again, working at night with tree trunks cut close to the camp by soldiers, but something kept destroying the work and killing the workers. The military high command had decided it was more magic from the Rebel army, though they wouldn't ever admit it would have to be Boss because she was the only magic user in the ranks and they had already stated she was dead. The jury was still out on how to defeat this unknown magic of the rebels. Whatever Ritsuko did, it is working, Annette thought uneasily. But I seriously doubt this is all there is to it from Airi's reaction. Does this mean she is only just now starting?

Her musing was interrupted by her food arriving and by the officers leaving. As she worked on her stew and fresh foods, she found herself listening to a discussion between what appeared to be a pair of merchants and a low-ranking noble of some sort on the other side of the room from where the military men were. She focused on that conversation as she ate.

To her surprise, it was a discussion of what sort of negotiations would bring the fighting to an end. The merchants were reluctantly discussing the economics of ending the fight with a negotiated peace, while the nobles were unhappily wondering what it would mean to negotiate the end of the rebellion of a slave army. None of them were happy, but Annette was shocked they were even discussing the option. Wow, I guess I owe Airi an apology, she marveled. Granted, they are hardly chomping at the bit, but they are discussing it as a viable way to end the rebellion; and that means that they have concluded that winning the fight won't be possible or at least practical.

Listening to the merchants bemoan the possible price increases a non-slave labor force would cause while the nobles railed against slaves daring to be given freedom just because they couldn't crush their rebellion both amused and disturbed Annette. She had never really given much thought to the issue of slavery. Sure, she had no desire to own a slave and thought the idea was at best sketchy in terms of economics and definitely compromised in terms of ethics, but it was a long-standing institution and the slaves she had encountered were either happy enough or deserved it. Granted, she had been pre-occupied a lot of the time with spell fragments and the various crisis that seemed to revolve around Celsia ever since the first time she had used the Seren Sarat and thereby summoned the three humans to their world, but she had been to every kingdom region at least a couple times in the last decade, and what she had seen had not changed her initial assessment. But that was before Airi and Ritsuko had resurfaced.

Now, she knew better. She also knew that nothing would be the same for her world. It had gone too far, it had taken too long and now - ready or not - the times were changing. Annette wondered if anything would be left of their world when Airi and Ritsuko were done; Ritsuko especially. Politics and military science were already nearly unrecognizable, even if militarily the Allied Kingdoms were still far overmatched by Ritsuko and Mike all by themselves. Politically, Airi had run through the governments like Ritsuko had run through the Southern Kingdoms, shattering long-established power bases, slicing apart generations-old alliances, unbalancing the various factions and leaving most scrambling for new allies, new power bases and factions who would help guard their backs against the re-shuffled political scene.

Annette finished her meal, settling back to slowly sip her wine. And I'm stuck in the eye of the storm, it would seem, she idly mused, looking out of the restaurant's windows. She sipped some wine as she planned out her next move. When her glass was finished, she set it down, dropped some coins on the table to cover the costs, and headed back to the temple. It wasn't until she was half-way back that she realized she was being followed. Pausing to look at a dress in a dress shop window, she worked on catching sight of the figures following her. After a moment, she spotted them in the reflection of the window. Silently groaning, she entered the shop. Well, if they want to have soldiers following me around, they will learn to hate that assignment, she thought vindictively as she began to assemble dresses to try on. Outside the shop, the two military intelligence officers grimaced under their hoods as they saw a widely-grinning Annette eagerly piling up dresses in her arms.

“I hate this mission,” growled one.

“No shit,” came the irritated response. “She never talks to anyone, or does anything suspicious, but we have to watch her every move and write reports on what she does; or rather, what she doesn't do. We can't even grab a bite to eat when she does in case she tries to slip off somewhere. If command doesn't end this damn assignment, I'm going AWOL,” threatened the second.

“Me, too. Rather be down south anyway; at least there, we can monitor real enemies,” the first grunted. Time passed. “Is she going to be in there all day or what?”

“You aren't married, I take it,” the second replied, mean amusement in his tone. “Women can spend an entire day just looking at one dress, kid,” the senior-most replied. “Long-ears had an armful of dresses.”

“Why me?” moaned the first. “And you aren't married, either,” he sniped back.

“I was, once,” the man replied.

“So what happened?” asked his partner.

“She got upset about camp followers and campaign liaisons,” snorted the older soldier. “Just as well; she was wasting too much of my already-meager pay,” he added.

“I'm never getting married,” vowed the first.

“Good man,” came the approving reply. Time passed. “Are we sure she is still in there?”

“One door in front, back door exits to the alley that comes out over there,” replied his partner, indicating the mouth of an alley within sight of the pair. “No long-ears in or out of either.” Time passed.

“We better go in and confirm she didn't use a spell or something,” sighed the senior agent, standing.

“In a dress shop?” came the disbelieve reply. “What are we going to say to the owner? `Just looking'?”

“We make something up; like wanting to get a new dress for the wife or something,” came the answer. “Come on, kid.”

The two entered the shop, the bell above the door chiming as they did so. The saleswoman turned to greet the customers, but stopped, frowning suspiciously at the two men. “Can I help you…gentlemen?” she asked, sounding very skeptical about two men entering a shop that catered exclusively to women.

“Just looking!” blurted out the younger man. “For the wife! Just looking for a new dress for the wife!” he hastily clarified. The saleswoman looked skeptical, but seemed inclined to accept the story for the moment.

“Very well, sir,” she replied, maintaining her distance from the two, “what is her size?” she asked. The younger man blinked.

“Her size?” he wondered, lost.

“No idea, but she's about an inch taller than you, same size chest give or take, a bit narrower in the waist and a little wider in the hips,” the older man came in with the save. The saleswoman's expression tightened a little.

“I see,” she managed a neutral tone. “And her favorite colors?”

“Pink! And yellow!” the younger one answered with the first thing to pop into his head. The woman studied the two for a moment.

“Uh huh. Is she a blonde?” asked the woman.

“Uh…yeah! Why do you ask?” the younger one replied, clearly on guard.

“Because those colors would clash horribly with her hair,” came the reply from the salesgirl. Her tone clearly said she wasn't buying anything they said. “How about patterns, materials and cuts?” she asked, a malicious glint in her eyes.

“This is a waste of our time,” the older one grunted, turning to the door.

“So you are just going to chicken out and run away without anything for your wife?” came Annette's voice, the priestess appearing from behind a rack of dresses. “That is not very nice,” she said, smiling coldly as well. “Tell you what,” she went right on, having caught them in a lie, “you two big, strong men sit right over there and Isalea and I will find the perfect dress for your wife,” she indicated a small, uncomfortable-looking bench wedged in a corner of the shop. “Go on,” urged Annette, “unless you were lying to the nice salesgirl?” hinted the elf.

“N…not at all,” the younger one caved in. The two barely managed to squeeze onto the bench.

Annette turned to the salesgirl. “I couldn't help but hear what they said, so she would be about a size eight. Now, as a blonde, she would be better off with dark green with ivory wouldn't you say? Brocade and silk, of course, with a cute flower pattern stitched into the bodice, naturally,” she began eagerly.

“Exactly what I was thinking, Priestess,” enthused the human salesgirl. “If she is about my size up top, it would be best to have a notched-top with half-cups, too.”

“And a bustle, if she is wider in the hips than you,” pointed out Annette.

“Right!” nodded the salesgirl. “And we have just the dress!” she nearly squealed, heading to the center-most display and carefully taking down a fancy dress. “It's even the right size, too! Note, please, gentlemen, that the bodice lacing strip is whalebone with pure silver eyelets and gold piping. Your wife will be the envy of the neighborhood,” she nearly sang. “The silk is from the silk factory of the Countess of Hywyleth - a very prestigious and quality cloth that will be recognized for such by other ladies and worth every last gold crown,” she enthused. “The embroidery is hand-stitched with individual colored threads, rather than the more common dying, giving it that signature look of quality all women seek. This, gentlemen, is the dress for your wife!”

The older man grimaced. “We'll take your word for it, miss,” he said. The saleswoman swiftly packaged the dress for transport while chatting with Annette, who had happened to settle by the door, blocking their escape. With the dress packaged, she gave the two the price, which made the color drain from their faces. After a very spirited haggling session, the two left all their money and a rather large draft note with the saleswoman, departing with the dress as Annette and the salesgirl thanked them for their business and promised their wife would love the dress.

“Damn,” breathed the younger man, carrying the packaged dress. “This thing is more expensive than hand-fitted plate armor for a knight and his horse!”

“Why do you think women get married, kid? Someone has to pay for their clothes,” the older one grunted. The younger one made to toss the package away. “Don't even think of throwing that away, kid - we had to spend military funds for it, so we have to take it to the paymaster's office,” he sighed.

“We have to take this thing through the barracks?” blinked the younger man.

“No, you have to take it through the barracks. I'm pulling rank,” he blandly replied. The younger soldier winced. Minutes later, he was enduring cat-calls, wolf-whistles and all other manner of verbal abuse as he made his way past his fellow soldiers with the dress. He knew he would never, ever live this down, and vowed then and there that he was done following the priestess around unless the orders were to arrest or kill her. He also wondered how best to get back at his partner for throwing him to the wolf-whistlers.

“So this is it?” asked Ritsuko, looking over the musty tomes and scrolls and folded maps in the bag Gabriella had slung over her shoulder.

“Apparently so,” came the distracted reply. Ritsuko eyed the two before grabbing her med-kit.

“I'll get you patched up before we hit the trail again,” she said, pulling out bandages, gauze, disinfectant and a couple small suture kits. She paused, then added a couple foil packs of pain killers. “You two get into a fight or what?” she asked, fishing up a canteen of water and handing the elves the pills from the packets. “Swallow these, two each,” she ordered.

“Traps, mostly,” Rapier said before downing the pills.

“Couple of animals, too,” Gabriella added after she swallowed her own pills. Milliea brought over a shallow pan of clean water and a clean cloth.

“Strip and get cleaned up,” Ritsuko directed, organizing her supplies. “It will make it easier for me to treat your wounds,” she added, her tone distracted as she dug in the large med-kit from the tank. The two did as asked, wanting to get cleaned up as well.

Once the two had wiped themselves down, Ritsuko got to work on their wounds. It was the first time the two had seen how the humans treated wounds. Ritsuko worked efficiently and before they knew it, their wounds were all fixed, the pain barely a low throb and the occasional twinge of pain if they tugged on the stitching she had done on their largest wounds. Though not seriously injured, the cuts, abrasions, punctures and contusions had needed treatment; though only two wounds required any stitching, and those only a few stitches for each.

“So, what are you going to do about clothes?” asked Ritsuko when she was done, the kit re-stowed for the next time it was needed. Rapier's clothes had suffered the worst of the wear, but had likely been the reason that she was less injured that Gabriella, whose fur bikini offered little protection. Both of their cloaks were pretty much just rags now, and both would probably be looking for new boots in the next town.

“I've got a spare outfit in my pack,” shrugged Gabriella, tossing what was left of her old fur bikini aside indifferently before rummaging in her pack a moment. Pulling out another fur bikini that looked like it was made from the same skin as the last one, she was swiftly dressed again, though she didn't put her boots back on.

“You can borrow my sandals,” Ritsuko said, offering the leather-soled, cross-tying roman-style sandals she had made while a slave to the elf. Gabriella nodded her thanks, swiftly lacing the sandals up. Mike's armor could get uncomfortably warm at times, she had learned.

“I have a spare pair of shorts, but not a new top or pants,” Rapier frowned, having been going through her pack. “Meant to get new ones for a while, but never got the chance,” she shrugged. Ritsuko eyed the elf.

“Try these,” she said, offering the fighter one of her black tee shirts and a pair of her tactical pants. Rapier found them to be close enough in fit, and the pants - though baggy on her - didn't interfere with her fighting style. Ritsuko put her foot beside Rapiers for a moment before digging back into her supplies. After a couple of minutes, she pulled out a pair of shoes that were worn but still functional. Raising an eyebrow at the colors - bright blue against burnt orange - Rapier nevertheless accepted them, finding them to be a good fit.

“So, refit and resupply time, I guess,” Ritsuko said, easily hopping off the tank and beginning to break down the camo netting. Milliea finished securing the emptied tin basin to Mike's hull and then assisted Ritsuko with the netting. In very short order, the netting was secure again, and Mike started up, easily finding his way back to the side-roads and resuming the trip to the next city. The group arrived the following day at a bit past noon, leaving Mike in a safe spot before heading in to do some shopping.

That evening, they returned to drop off the supplies they had gathered at Mike before heading back into the city for dinner and some recon. The leather goods that Rapier and Gabriella had ordered wouldn't be ready before noon the next day, so they were basically killing time. Milliea stuck to Ritsuko like she was glued there, while Rapier and Gabriella remained close to the two. After dinner, they mingled with the crowds, going from tavern to tavern, though drinking very little.

The news they heard was encouraging, but also made Ritsuko restless. There were incidents up and down the coast, and in most major cities. Caravans were failing to make their destinations, officials and nobles were having trouble with their subjects, markets were seeing increased disruption, and the number of accidents was steadily increasing everywhere. The guardsmen and enforcement were arresting criminals, but it didn't stop the trouble; in fact, it escalated it. Animosity was leading to friction between the classes, and that friction was building steadily toward the ignition point.

As they were leaving the city for the night, they saw a fire springing up on the other side of town. Ritsuko paused to watch for a moment before tossing her head, the four leaving the town. The next day, they learned that the building that had burnt to the ground (and partially burnt the five buildings closest to it) had been the training facility for the local garrison, who were reported to be training up a company to join the fighting against the rebellion. What was more interesting to the group was that someone had decorated the wall of the mayor's estate with graffiti while everyone was busy with the burning building. The graffiti - swiftly whitewashed over - had allegedly said `Boss is coming'.

Supposedly, this was the work of some street urchins in the employ of one of the crime syndicates in the city, but that official statement didn't hold water with the citizenry, who whispered about the dreaded leader of the Rebellion, the fire-haired Amazon sorceress known only as `Boss' and how horrible it would be if she and her army came to their town. Some women gossiped about this while unknowingly within arms-reach of Ritsuko. It was the popular stance that rebellious slaves working for Boss had been behind everything that went wrong in the city - even weather phenomenon.

After picking up the leather goods for Gabriella and Rapier, the group drifted on out of town, loaded up on Mike and headed south again. Before nightfall, they came across what was left of a caravan of wagons, which had been hastily dumped in a ravine between the main road and the side trail they were running on, the supplies in the wagons missing and a few bodies among the wagons wearing the uniform of the enforcement department. Ritsuko had barely even given it a glance as they passed.

“So,” said Gabriella as morning broke and Ritsuko was making herself a cup of coffee as Mike barreled along on a better-traveled side route to the main road, “we're coming up on the place where the fellowship has their campus. How about we swing by and talk with them? Maybe have them look over our wounds and how you patched them. Might be a good chance for them to learn and for you to see what they might know.”

“Gabs, do me a favor and stop treating me like a moron,” grunted Ritsuko. “Milliea talked, you know,” she added. Gabriella sighed.

“Figured she would,” admitted the orange-haired dark elf, “but that doesn't change anything. We are worried about you, and we are trying to help you as best as we can.”

“It isn't you all who can't help me; it's this world,” muttered Ritsuko.

“So, are we going to have to have a big fight about this or will you humor us and talk to them?” Rapier interjected as she sat up from her makeshift bed on Mike's rear deck. Ritsuko glanced over, seeing Milliea watching her from where she was perched on the front deck of Mike's hull, one arm over the base of the main cannon's barrel.

“Fine, I'll talk with them,” she allowed, sipping her coffee. “But I don't have any expectations,” she muttered darkly to herself. All three elven women heard her clearly, though. The three exchanged relieved looks. The rest of the day passed mostly in silence from Ritsuko.

Once night fell, she directed Mike to get on the main road and run at full for a while, the tank eagerly doing so. The occasional traveler they met was left terrified by the huge, dark form that thundered by them in the dark, barely a dim glow to be seen, leaving the ground shaking in their wake; and usually soiled pants as well. Before dawn, Ritsuko moved Mike back onto the side roads, slowed him down a bit, and by the time the sun was fully risen, Mike was once more tucked away in a good spot, camouflaged and resting while the human girl and the elven women got their things together and headed off toward the campus where the fellowship had their school. It was a three hour walk, but none of them minded.

Ritsuko had debated what to wear, and had finally decided on wearing local clothes instead of her clothes from home or tactical outfit. She kept her shoes, but the skirt and top were local dress, and the cloak she wore was also normal for travelers. Her gun belt remained, and she had her G36 tucked into her small day-pack along with some other `necessities' that made the elves uneasy as they had come to understand her capabilities more as they traveled with her. They suspected that she had contingency plans to leave the school in flames or drowned in blood if things went sideways, but none of them said anything because they didn't want to antagonize her now that she had agreed to talk to the doctors and healers.

It had taken them until nearly noon to enter the campus, as Ritsuko had insisted that they check the entire perimeter and observe the people on the campus before going in. And once they were in the campus, it had taken a bit of talking to get the directions to the building they needed. The vaguely arrogant and disdainful attitude of the students and staff they had encountered was very obviously making Ritsuko's temper fray. More than once, Gabriella or Rapier had had to slip a hand over her mouth to keep her from starting a fight with some pompous ass.

It had gotten worse when they had finally gotten to the right building and tried to see one of the fellowship. An officious little toad of a secretary had demanded that they make an appointment for later that month, since the fellowship was very, very busy with important matters. Before Ritsuko could drag the little shit over the desk and shove her pistol down his throat, Rapier grabbed her arm as Gabriella stepped between them. “Calm down, Rits,” Gabriella murmured.

“How rude!” the man huffed. “I insist you leave before I call security,” he added.

Ritsuko's eyes went flat. “Yeah, you do that, toady,” she snarled, her free arm snaking back. Gabriella cursed, grabbing that arm so she and Rapier were holding her from either side.

“If you keep annoying my friend, I will be forced to kill you,” Milliea said, her tone apologetic yet still cheerful as she touched the man's throat with one of her swords. “Nothing personal, but she needs to talk with the Fellowship and your attitude is making her angry. You wouldn't like her angry, so please stop being such a dick-hole to her - pretty please?” she requested. The friendly tone of her voice and bright, happy smile were at jarring odds to the rock-steady sword at his throat.

“Y…you wouldn't…!” began the man, already sweating as a tiny trickle of blood seeped down his neck. Milliea's swords were sharp as a razor, after all, and could cut armor like it was tissue, so even touching it lightly could lead to blood loss.

“I wouldn't want to, no,” agreed Milliea, “but to save the lives of everyone else here, I would kill you. But it wouldn't be personal, I promise!” she added earnestly.

“It will be when I kill him,” snarled Ritsuko. The secretary was soaked in sweat now, a red trickle running down his neck and staining his shirt. Gabs and Rapier were struggling a little with Ritsuko. They were no match for her if she could get her hands on a weapon, but they were both martial artists, and they had her arms, so they could keep her from going nuts on the campus; but it wasn't easy.

“I…I believe a spot just opened,” the man capitulated. “P…please go straight on in!” he begged hoarsely. Milliea withdrew her sword.

“Thank you so much!” she chirped happily.

“Was that so fucking hard, asshole?” growled Gabriella.

“Next time, don't start something you can't finish, shithead,” added Rapier, the two of them escorting the still-restrained Ritsuko toward the door to the office.

“I'll be back for you,” snarled Ritsuko darkly.

“Easy, Rits,” soothed the two elven women restraining her. Milliea took the rear position, smiling happily and humming a little. The secretary collapsed in his chair, hyperventilating and needing to change pants. For a moment, he contemplated calling security, but almost immediately thought better of it. After a calming pull from a bottle of reserve corn whiskey he kept in the simple desk, he decided he wasn't feeling well enough to work the rest of the day, and swiftly gathered his things before running for the door. As he left, he told the greeter to call in the substitute secretary for the fellowship, and to hold all appointments until the fellowship asked.

In the building, Gabriella shoved the door open, finding it led to a small anteroom. Not seeing anyone in the anteroom, the group moved to the next door, Rapier and Gabriella cautiously releasing Ritsuko's arms. “I'm fine,” she muttered, flexing her arms before suddenly stepping forward and delivering an anger-fueled front-kick to the door, which shattered around the latch before flying open and smashing against the wall. Without waiting, Ritsuko strode into the room, Gabriella, Rapier and Milliea hurrying after her.

“Which of you are members of the Fellowship?” she demanded, her tone crisp and level, but with a dangerous undercurrent of anger.

“What is the meaning of this?” began one of the dozen or so people in the room.

“Are you a member of the Fellowship?” shot back Ritsuko, hands on her hips.

“I am,” began the person.

“Good. Sit down. Everyone who is not a member of the Fellowship, leave now,” she ordered curtly. A couple of people looked around at the others. “I said now!” roared Ritsuko, the two scurrying out.

“I have some questions for you all, and depending on your answers, this might be one of the most educational days in your lives; or the shortest,” she added darkly.

“Rits, calm down,” repeated Gabriella. “You promised to talk to them,” she reminded the red-head.

“I am talking to them,” retorted Ritsuko.

“Um, I think you are more threatening them than talking to them,” offered Milliea, her tone apologetic and conciliatory.

“Everyone is a critic,” she muttered. “Since you three are so gung-ho on this, how about you talk to them, then?” she bit out, fingers flexing.

“That might be for the best,” Rapier agreed. “You will have to excuse our friend,” she addressed the group. “She's been having a bad couple of...well, some bad times,” she redacted her statement. “We came here to see if you could help her.”

“Why should we help such a rude person?” muttered one of the group.

“Because if you don't, she could well decide to slaughter you all and burn your campus to the ground,” replied Rapier. “And I personally vouch for her ability to do so and doubly so for her willingness to do so.”

“Why is she so angry?” another asked. “Perhaps it is a hormone imbalance in her mind, or womanly troubles,” he postulated. Ritsuko's eyes narrowed a little.

“Fucking witch doctors,” she purred dangerously. “We're wasting our time with these ignorant fools,” she pronounced, irritation radiating from her like light from the sun.

“Ignorant?!” sputtered one of the Fellowship.

“Alright, everyone shut up and look at this,” Gabriella said, shifting her cloak to reveal one of the sutures Ritsuko had sewn. She moved closer to let them get a good look at the workmanship. “How old would say that wound is?” she asked after they had all seen the work.

“A week, I would say,” one of the Fellowship remarked.

“No, more like ten days,” another disagreed. “Note the healing that has occurred, as well as the removal of the thread,” he pointed out.

“That woman stitched this up the day before yesterday,” she said, pointing to Ritsuko. “How about this one?” she said, shifting again to show another of her wounds that had a bandage over it. The group - now interested - gathered closer to study the bandage.

“What manner of sorcery is this?” one wondered, poking at the bandage.

“It is a bandage she applied. It covers and protects a puncture wound,” replied Gabriella. “Look at this scuff,” she said, indicating a spot of skin she had abraded against some rough rocks during her adventure. “This was bleeding, swollen and red day before yesterday,” she stated, the group studying the scabbed-over wound. The swelling was gone, the scabs well formed, and the injury clearly healing quickly and correctly.

“Amazing,” murmured one of the Fellowship.

“If she is capable of such healing, why is she here?” wondered another. It was better work than they had ever seen, after all.

“Knowledge,” answered Rapier. “What do you know of diseases?” asked the elf.

“We are very well versed in diseases. It is one of our primary fields of research,” bragged another of the fellowship. Ritsuko snorted to herself, but Milliea touched her shoulder soothingly.

“What do you know about diseases spread by sexual activity?” asked Rapier.

“You mean Whores' Condition? We know that well,” the man replied. Ritsuko's hands balled into fists.

“How do you diagnose the diseases?” asked Ritsuko, her tone tight and angry.

“By their symptoms, of course, as always,” a different member replied.

“How many are you aware of?” asked the Elf Hunter.

“What do you mean? Whores' Condition is a single ailment,” came the answer. “It progresses in stages, though the stages are not always in the same sequence from whore to whore. In the end, it is a fatal condition, though - usually from poisons in the bloodstream,” he explained.

“Fucking morons,” bit out Ritsuko, shaking her head. “Describe the symptoms for every stage you know of,” she ordered.

“Well, as I said, the order of the stages does not always occur in the same sequence between whores. It is easiest to examine the patient and see if she exhibits any of the symptoms.”

“Never mind. What about treatments?” she asked.

“Treatment? For Whores' Condition? Don't be silly!” scoffed a member of the Fellowship.

“Why would treating a disease be silly?” wondered Milliea, sounding confused.

“Because it is an ailment seen only in whores and prostitutes,” came the answer. “No one ever gets it but them.”

“Slaves never get it?” asked Gabriella. The doctors shrugged as a group.

“No one ever brings their property to us to be checked out, but I should imagine that such a thing is impossible. We have a theory about Slaves' Disorder, but that has nothing to do with Whores' Condition,” he stated with great certainty.

“Let me guess: some - or all - of the symptoms match between the two,” Ritsuko stated, her knuckles turning white.

“Well, yes, they often do,” admitted another, “but that is most likely because a slave and a whore had relations, thus cross-contaminating each other.”

“It never occurred to you geniuses that perhaps the slaves were being treated like whores by the same disease-carrying fuck-holes who spread these diseases, did it?” accused Ritsuko, her teeth bared and hands shaking with rage.

“That is preposterous,” scoffed one of the Fellowship. “Diseases do not cross over from caste to caste. It is why nobles live longer than commoners, and why commoners live longer than whores or slaves,” explained the man.

“For the sake of argument,” bit out the gunslinger, “if a noblewoman showed up with one of the symptoms of Whores' Condition, what would you do to treat her?” she asked.

“Well, it depends on the symptom,” began one of the doctors. “But elixir of red cinnabar usually fixes the problem.”

“Yeah, death cures all ailments,” snorted Ritsuko. “So, that is a big, fat `no' on treatments that actually work,” she sneered. “You don't have the slightest idea what bacteria is, do you? And if you don't know what that is, then you have no idea what a virus is, nor how to create antibiotics to treat diseases. It's like the fucking dark ages here,” she spat. The doctors seemed intrigued and offended at the same time.

“What do you speak of?” wondered one. Ritsuko sneered at them.

“There isn't enough time left in your lives for me to even begin to explain the simplest concepts to you bunch. Tell me, do you wash your hands between patients?” she asked.

“Certainly!” came the indignant reply. “We are well aware that doing so increases the chances of patients recovering.”

“Well, that's certainly more than I expected from you charlatans,” she snorted. “What do you with bandages?” she asked.

“We wash them between patients, as well, if they are in sufficient condition to be re-used,” answered another of the group.

“Try boiling them for several minutes; preferably in a mix of water and vinegar,” grunted Ritsuko. “If you do that - and do not allow them to touch any surface that a patient or doctor that has touched a patient touches - you will find that your survival rate grows exponentially. And cover your mouth and nose with fine cloth that is also sterilized between uses, too, you damn savages,” she added.

“That would make it harder to breathe,” replied a member of the Fellowship.

“Not really, but it would decrease the odds of the patient getting an infection,” grunted Ritsuko. “Covering a wound with antiseptic helps, but since you don't have the means to make it, you need to find aloe Vera plants and use the sap from them.”

“Aloe Vera?” blinked the oldest of the Fellowship. Ritsuko described the plant. “Ah, you mean Medicinal Cactus,” he nodded to himself. Ritsuko waved away the distinction.

“The gel-like sap helps protect wounds from infection. You can also strain and refine it for a drink that will help heal certain disorders. It doesn't taste that good, but drink it straight and you will see improvements. Keep wounds clean and covered while they heal. Change bandages often until the wound begins to knit. That will improve your survival rate many times over.”

The group was discussing this in murmurs. “And for your information, diseases don't know or care about castes, they are transmitted by touch, sex, bodily fluids - like sneezes - and sometimes by air. Bacteria, viruses, mold and funguses are the most common causes of sicknesses, and the bacterial and virus strains can self-modify to infect new people and to resist treatment. There are more sources of infection than there are ways to defend against them, so start working on learning the natural counters for sicknesses. Until you learn how to work with chemistry, you are going nowhere fast,” she sighed.

“We work closely with alchemists,” began one of the Fellowship.

“Good luck with that,” dismissed Ritsuko. “But have them start working with bread mold. There is an antibiotic called `penicillin' that is derived from that which will treat a lot of the diseases you have here. And on that note, which of you is the most knowledgeable about Whores' Condition and the symptoms?” she asked. One of the fellowship raised a hand. Ritsuko crooked her finger at them, taking him to the corner of the room and whispering in his ear for a bit. He shook his head. She whispered a bit more, but got the same reaction. Ritsuko's shoulders slumped a bit as she turned back to her friends. “We are done here,” she said, her tone flat.

“Rits, are you sure…?” began Rapier.

“Very sure,” came the reply. The group exchanged looks before the three elves followed her out of the room. Ritsuko set a fast pace back to Mike, and immediately ordered him to crank up and head out. She had a shipyard to burn to the ground, after all.

“You have been busy, Rit-chan,” Airi said a week later. Ritsuko hummed.

“Five shipyards destroyed, and the fires are spreading,” she replied, her tone distracted.

“How did you destroy the one in the south of the Western Kingdoms?” wondered the actress. Ritsuko glanced at her.

“Three hundred pounds of fine flour, some simple hot-air balloons, a few rifle rounds and a flare from Mike's signaling kit,” she said. Seeing Airi frown, she gave her friend a smile. “Flour dust is very explosive when mixed with air, Airi. By having it fall from the simple balloons and by creating a large cloud of it that blew in with the wind, it covered the yard in a fine cloud. The flare ignited it and it acted a bit like a fuel-air explosive round, destroying most of the structures and flattening the majority of the workers, while the various forging and sealing fires were spread to the lumber stacks. With the shockwave having killed or incapacitated most of the people around, the fires could get well established, and by the time they started throwing water, it was too late,” she smiled coldly.

“I see,” Airi replied. “I hear you visited the Fellowship of Doctors,” she noted.

“Bust,” was all Ritsuko said, her tone closed off and guarded.

“Ritsuko, what do you think of heading to Raltaow for the winter?” asked Airi.

“Don't think that is such a good idea. The military is starting to run probes, and my cells are beginning operations in earnest. I need to be able to move around and either put fires out or fan the flames,” argued the younger of the two. Airi sipped her wine.

“Would you take me and your team back over the pass, at least? I want you to look the pass over and see what you think. The passes snow up early, and are impassable by foot or horse, but Mike is a different case. I know that you can bring us in and get back over the pass before it snows up, and that would allow me to introduce you to the Queen as someone she can trust and take advice from, doubling our control and bringing you right into the very heart of court. Please, Ritsuko,” she added, taking Rit-chan's hands in her own and squeezing them.

Ritsuko studied the table top for a moment before nodding. “Ok, I can do that for you, Airi,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Rit-chan,” Airi said softly. “By the way, there is some information that Annette uncovered that we need to discuss, and it is best done in Raltaow than anywhere in the Allied Kingdoms,” she added.

“Is it about getting this damn rune off us?” asked Ritsuko eagerly.

“Not directly, but it does impact on that,” Airi assured her.

“Did she at least find out what the name of the nobleman is and where he lives?” asked the younger woman tightly.

“I have been putting out feelers about that, but have not yet identified him specifically,” Airi replied. “There are a surprising number of nobles who dabble in the slave trade,” she sighed.

“Give me the list, I'll narrow it down,” promised Ritsuko. Airi knew her younger companion would narrow that list to zero in a matter of days if she gave her the list.

“I know you are in a very search-and-destroy mood right now, but have you considered that our target might not be on the list at all?” asked Airi. “Remember how no one ever called him by name? Not once in all the time we were there, Rit-chan,” she reminded her friend. “That got me thinking,” she continued once Ritsuko frowned. “It could well be that no one knows he is a slaver. And if that is the case, slaughtering the nobles who dabble in slavery will only push him deeper into cover. Acting prematurely could cost us our chance to repay him.”

“I won't let him get away with it,” vowed Ritsuko.

“I didn't say we were. There is also the issue of Junpei and Celsia,” Airi turned the conversation over to a new tangent.

“I heard Junpei - as the White Dragon - was being a pest in the Southern Kingdoms,” snorted Ritsuko. “Someone sent him to the southern port, and he has been amusing himself street brawling down there with most of the miscreants. He always asks about `Boss' and occasionally about me, but never by name. I think something is wrong with him; I mean, more wrong than usual,” she snickered.

“Agreed. But he might know who the nobleman is, or at least where he lives,” pointed out Airi. Ritsuko make a face.

“Don't tell me you are suggesting we go pick that tool up?” she groaned.

“Perhaps,” Airi smiled. Ritsuko sighed tragically. “But I am more concerned with how Celsia has vanished completely.”

“She could be dead,” Ritsuko said softly, idly turning the cup of tea around and around with her fingertips.

“That thought has crossed my mind as well,” admitted Airi. “But we have to assume she isn't until it is proven otherwise. Remember our situation regarding going home.”

“Couldn't Annette do it? She seems more reliable anyway,” countered Ritsuko.

“Perhaps, but Celsia has a statistically greater chance of getting us back by spell work, so we should play it that way until it is time to come up with a new plan.”

The two women were silent for several long minutes. “What did Gabriella stop to pick up?” Airi asked to break the silence.

“Some sort of ancient loot, by the looks of it,” Ritsuko said. The two lapsed back into silence after that, eventually going to bed, Ritsuko hugging Airi as they slept, one hand gripping her pistol even as she rested her cheek against Airi's shoulder.

In the room next door, Gabriella was going over the spoils of their raid on the ancient Dark Elf kingdom capital. Rapier and Milliea were there, as was Annette by means of moonlight mirror. “That is very interesting information, Gabriella,” Annette said. “I wish I could study it all in person in greater detail,” she thought aloud.

“So grab an air fish and head for Raltaow. We will probably be heading out at first light ourselves for there,” Gabriella suggested.

“Well, that would be fine, but the only air fish that can climb over those mountains is an air narwhale, and we don't have one of those,” Annette sighed. Rapier frowned.

“The military has some,” she noted. “Why not borrow one or steal one?” she suggested.

“And how would I do that?” came the dry response. “It's not like I could…” Annette stopped, frowning. “Maybe I could,” she murmured thoughtfully.

“What about this healer of the White Arts you found for Airi?” asked Milliea.

“What about her?” asked Annette.

“Send her to Raltaow,” suggested Gabriella.

“She refuses to leave her clinic,” Annette replied, sounding frustrated. “Nothing will budge her, either,” complained the priestess.

“Bet I could budge her,” grinned Gabriella.

“Let's just wait for Airi to be ready,” suggested Rapier.

“Guess we will have to, if we are going to Raltaow,” Gabriella grunted.

“On that note, how is Ritsuko?” asked Annette.

“Angry,” replied Rapier immediately.

“Tense,” Gabriella added without hesitation.

“Scared,” Milliea said, making the other blink.

“I wouldn't call what she has been doing being scared, Milliea,” began Gabriella slowly.

“But she is,” insisted the sword maiden. “You saw her at that place where the healers hung out.”

“Yeah, when she kicked in the door and would have killed them all if we hadn't stopped her?” reminded Rapier. “If that is her scared, I really don't want to see her angry.”

“In all fairness, that secretary had it coming, and if they had suggested I was a whore, I would have hurt them, too,” Gabriella half-defended the human.

Milliea frowned, tilting her head. “Didn't you see her shoulders slump a little after she spoke with that one guy? I think she is scared she is seriously sick and can't do anything about it,” suggested Milliea.

“She doesn't look or act sick,” Rapier began.

“Maybe not in a way we understand it, perhaps,” mused Annette. “Will she talk with anyone about it?”

The three shook their heads. “Not even with Airi,” admitted Rapier. Annette frowned.

“That doesn't reassure me,” she admitted. The three in the room agreed.

“Maybe they just need some time together,” Milliea suggested. “I mean, they were apart for years, and then they met up, but they can barely spend a day together before they have to run off to take care of stuff. It could be that they haven't had time to relax with just them and get comfortable around each other again.”

“Perhaps,” Annette considered.

“If they had time with nothing else to do,” mused Rapier.

“It could lead to them to talking with each other,” agreed Gabriella. Like if they were stranded in Raltaow for eight months or so, three of the four elves thought in unison.

“Hold charge! Hold charge!” screamed the Knight-captain as loudly as he could. His company of lancers raced by him even as he frantically waved his lance in the signal to hold charge. “Damn you, hold!” he screamed in frustration. Just beyond where his charger had slid to an uncertain stop, his lancers were piling up as they hit the hedgehog stakes and trenches lined with sharpened stakes. The snow had mostly concealed the fortification until it was too late, the blood of its first victims revealing the defensive work.

“Archers!” came the cry from beyond the hedgehog stakes. Immediately, arrows began to rain down on the forces that had managed to stop before the first trench. Cursing, the knight-captain threw his triangular shield up to protect himself. The arrows rained down, but couldn't penetrate the shield, and a couple that hit his calf didn't penetrate enough to disable him. Horses, however, were dropping like flies. Behind his cavalry were the foot soldiers who had initiated the attack against the outpost of the Rebel army. When the outpost had broken and run for it, the cavalry rushed forward to catch them. This was the result.

“Dismount, draw swords and take cover in the trench!” he yelled, discarding the lance and pulling his broadsword as he jumped off his horse just before the animal took an arrow to the eye that dropped it, thrashing, to the snow-covered ground. Keeping his shield up, he jumped into the trench, feeling the sharpened stakes poke at him before snapping against his armor. He snorted. “Didn't count on us using your own trenches against you, did you filthy criminals?” he muttered as more of his men joined him. The infantry advanced to join them in the trench.

“We must move over the hedgehogs and close with the enemy,” he yelled to his men and the infantry with them. “Their arrows can't penetrate our armor at this range, so we will form columns with a knight in front, and footmen behind to close with the enemy. How many made it?” he asked, wondering how many infantry would be behind each knight.

“Sir! Most of the infantry retreated under the bow-fire,” yelled one of his men.

“My lord!” yelled a footman not far from him, a handful of the soil held to his nose. “My lord!”

“Not now, footman,” the knight-captain yelled back, busy with other things.

“My lord, we must flee! Now!” screamed back the man, leaping out of the trench and running a broken line back toward the river that marked the separation between Southern Kingdoms and the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Get back here, coward! I will have you hung for desertion!” yelled the knight-captain.

“Captain, what is this smell?” one of his men interrupted, sniffing at the dirt. The officer scowled.

“The smell of cowards, apparently,” he replied, having lost sight of the footman.

“Catapults, loose!” he heard the cry from the enemy hidden in the tree line behind the hedgehogs. The men in the trench looked up, seeing many small objects cresting in the air in front of the trench.

“Shields!” yelled the knight-captain, positioning his own over himself. “Small rock bombardment,” he yelled to his men. The small objects landed in front of the trench, in the trench and behind the trench, but were not ham-sized rocks, being instead thinly-stitched leather bags that burst, spraying a thick liquid all over the place. The liquid stuck to the ground and the men. “What manner of attack is this?” he asked in disbelief. Even a footman without a helmet wouldn't have been injured by the catapult fire if they fired these bags of what seemed to be some sort of thickened oil.

Sniffing at it, he was reminded somewhat of a kitchen and somewhat of a fertilizer facility. “Catapults, loose!” came the call again. Ah ha! Trying to head-fake us, the knight-captain thought, ducking under his shield again. They fire these to make us think there is no threat, then drop a load of rock on us. Clever for a bunch of slaves, he thought. More bags burst around and on him and the men in the trench.

“Prepare to move,” he called, hearing men beginning to cough. He coughed softly as he felt his throat tightening up. He cleared his throat, but it only made him cough more. Covering his mouth, he saw that where the thick liquid had hit the dirt of the trench, there seemed to be some sort of steam coming from the ground even as the dirt began to discolor. He felt his eyes watering. What is this sorcery? he wondered as he desperately tried to get out of the trench and to fresh air.

“Light them up!” came the strange command from the unseen rebel commander. A lone fire arrow arched out of the tree line, striking just in front of him and slightly to the left. For just a moment, nothing seemed to happen, then the coughing knight-captain saw what seemed to be a halo of orange, blue and yellow flame appear around the burning wick tied to the arrow. Everything went silent as he was violently thrown up and back, fire licking over him like the tongue of an angry dragon. Heat seared him through his armor and gambeson as it enveloped him, slithering into his lungs as he screamed only to sear those as well. Below him, the trench shook as the shockwave raced through it, followed by a wall of fire hotter than a blacksmith's forge when he worked the bellows. Fire shot above the tree lines before snaking along the ground where the liquid had spilled, burning even through the water made by the melting snow. The knight-captain landed among the dead and dying horses and footmen beyond the fire, barely clinging to life as the rest of the advance forces burned to death in the first trench.

“Holy heavens,” breathed the commander of the outpost as he watched the enemy die in a gruesome manner totally unfamiliar to him.

“Boss is a monster,” breathed another of the men. The man turned to smack the man across the head with his hand.

“Boss is our salvation!” he snapped at the man. “Without her, we would never have succeeded in gaining our freedom. Show proper respect for her!” he ordered.

“But to fight in this way…!” protested the other man.

“You think yourself a match for knights and footmen of the Allied Kingdoms?” sneered a third fighter, much older than the other two. “If Boss's plan hadn't worked, we'd all be pinned to trees or cut down by now. This is the only way we can fight the military on equal footing. Grow up, boy,” he snorted.

The rebels waited, but the flames seemed to refuse to die down. Then, from further back, they heard a series of whistles. “Second platoon is done. Time to shift to the second outpost,” ordered the man in charge of the section. Silently, they fell back to the second outpost to await the success of the attack of second platoon.

The alliance military sent out a group of men with heavy shields to see what had happened, and found the barely-alive knight-captain. Retrieving him, they retreated from the still-burning obstacle, returning to their lines on the other side of the river. Healers managed to prolong the man's life, but he was blind and couldn't talk. Still, his commanders demanded answers. He managed to scrawl out a few answers that made no sense to them before expiring, leaving them with a smoking corpse and very little in the way of answers. They had caught a footman running away from the battle, but since his explanation of fertilizer and coal dust made no sense, the general had ordered him hung as a deserter hours earlier.

Assembling for dinner in the command tent, the senior leadership waited for the food to be served, arguing about what had happened to their advance unit. Finally, the food was ready, and the group sat to enjoy a warming soup and fresh meat. The meeting went late into the night before the leadership turned in.

The next morning, the camp was in disarray, with the vast majority of the soldiers sick or dead. Those that weren't dead were in no condition to fight; or even stand. The healers worked to save as many as they could, but ended up losing more than two thirds of the men before night fall. Discouraged and tired, they fixed some soup for themselves and began to write out the report on the massacre. By morning, only two healers were alive, both deathly ill. When a runner from the camp downstream from them arrived to request medical aid for a sudden sickness, he found the camp filled with death and sickness. Fearing an epidemic, he deserted, heading for the rear lines. It was four days before a relief column arrived, finding no one alive in either camp. There was only the report from the runner, which was of no use to them in determining what had befallen the camps. Deciding it was punishment from the gods for waging a winter campaign, the army commander of the Eastern Kingdom border army called a full halt to all planned attacks, choosing to hunker down and wait for spring.

The rebel outpost resumed their first post two days after the first attack. Reports came in from the other sections of similar results to the advance attacks against their lines. In the rear lines, the Captain in charge of the defenses got the reports that not one attack had succeeded in taking even a foot of their land. Shaking his head, he could only offer a salute to his absent Boss. “Just like you said, Boss,” he murmured, studying the map as he reviewed the notes he had been given by the short-tempered girl who had freed them from their chains then led them to victory like it was nothing at all.

“Runners,” he called, several messengers appearing a few moments later. “Dispatches to all outpost commanders. They are to hold position, and be vigilant for probing attacks or uncommon tactics. This is not over, and they should not lose sight of that just because this first skirmish went smoothly. Replacements will be rotated through on a schedule that will be posted later. Any soldier who misses an enemy attack or infiltration will live to regret it. Is the message clear?” he asked. The messengers all nodded. “Dismissed,” he said, the messengers hurrying off. It would take them a couple days to tell all the commanders, but that was just the way it was.

“Captain, your appointment is here,” his page said, ushering in one of his fellow captains - this one the one in charge of engineering and science.

“I take it you heard,” the captain grunted, nodding to the woman.

“Yes. Just like Boss said,” the woman sounded very proud of that.

“So, you have the plans ready?” he asked, getting right to the point. She nodded, producing a thick roll of parchment. Unrolling it, she began to walk him through what he needed his men to do, and the very precise order they needed to do it in. Switching parchments, she showed him the plans for the construction projects Boss had ordered done by the soldiers and free slaves not stationed on the front line. Seeing it laid out on parchment, with schedules and steps and instructions, he finally saw the scope of what Boss had set in motion.

“Incredible,” he breathed, reviewing the plans. The engineer nodded.

“This is merely the military side of things,” she said. “You should see the infrastructure side! I have crews going day and night all over the kingdoms, and it will still take me years to finish all of Boss's directives, but when they are done…” she trailed off, shaking her head in amazement.

“Does it ever make you wonder who she was before?” asked the man quietly.

“What do you mean?” the woman asked.

“There is no way in hell she was born a slave,” he said flatly. “She is too smart, too stubborn and far too capable to have been born a slave. I would say she might have been nobility, but her hatred of them makes that very unlikely; as well as her lack of any sort of noble aversion to working,” he chuckled.

“Maybe a little,” admitted the woman. “I mean, these ideas of hers…they are just unheard of. No one does things this way, but everything she has laid out has worked perfectly as long as we follow her directions. Honestly, I do sometimes wonder who she was before, but I would never be stupid enough to ask.”

“She doesn't talk much about herself, does she?” agreed the man. “And the last time she met with us, she seemed irritated that she had to come straighten us all out. I can't help but think about her last words to us.”

“No kidding,” agreed the woman. The two were silent for a few minutes before she spoke up again. “I assume you have a theory?”

“Maybe,” the man shrugged. “She's young, but she might have been a mercenary or a disgraced scholar who ended up sold as a slave. It would fit with most of her skills and her attitude,” he explained. “How about you?”

“Her knowledge and skills with the strange things make me think she might have been from beyond the Alliance,” said the woman, her tone soft as she glanced around as if she were discussing military secrets. The man frowned.

“Beyond the Alliance? Like from Raltaow or the Lower Continent that is said be beyond the southern passes of Raltaow?” he wondered.

“No, I mean beyond the Allied Kingdoms - way beyond,” corrected the woman. “Maybe from the Lost Continent,” she murmured.

“I would say that was nothing more than a myth except that I once knew a sailor whose father had been there. He grew up hearing about the voyage and the land from his old man, and swore he would go there one day. Last I heard, his old man killed himself and the son was considered a crazy old sailor. But, I do believe the land is there somewhere,” he admitted. “But she talks like a native, even if she does have that slight accent. Would someone from the Lost Continent speak the language?”

“Did you know she speaks Elvish? And some language I have never heard before? She does - I have heard her myself,” the female captain assured him. The two considered that for a moment.

“She is absent at the moment,” the man said slowly. “She said she was carrying the war into the rest of the Kingdoms, but she took only twenty volunteers with her, so how much fighting can she do with so small a force?”

“And one of them is a ten year old girl, too,” nodded the female. “I think she might have something else entirely in mind.”

“You suggest she is planning to return to the Lost Continent?” suggested the man.

“Maybe; I don't know,” admitted the woman. “Or maybe she really is a sorceress.”

Further gossip was interrupted by a runner arriving with a report from the quartermaster about supply levels. Turning their minds back to work, the two Captains got busy. After all, even absent, their Boss was not one either was willing to cross.