Those Who Hunt Elves Fan Fiction ❯ Forms of Battle ❯ Chapter 2

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

“It isn't just the depth of the snow, Airi,” Ritsuko was lecturing as Mike rumbled along through a light snow at the second of four passes that separated the Allied Kingdoms from Raltaow. “It is a question of surface area of the treads and the weight of the tank. See, a tank that weighs only twelve tons but has a narrow track tread will get stuck in snow much easier than a sixty ton tank with wide treads. Ideally, to keep from getting stuck in snow, you want a light vehicle - say, in the six ton class - with extremely wide tracks. Like a snow cat. Mike has fairly wide tracks, but combat loaded comes in around forty tons, so if the snow drifts get too thick, he will get stuck.”

“I see,” Airi replied, glad to hear Ritsuko talking like she used to. “So far, do you think he can make it through the passes?” asked the actress. Ritsuko considered that.

“Depends on the snow depth and avalanche risk, but I would guardedly say `yes' with several qualifiers,” decided the girl after a moment of thought. “Are the last two passes any steeper or higher?” she asked.

“Not that I noticed, no,” Airi replied. “How do you like Raltaow so far?” she asked with a smile.

“Seems fine,” shrugged Ritsuko. She was in the driver station, hatch open and goggles on while Airi was in the commander position with the ten-year old girl in her lap, Rapier and Gabriella in the gunner and loader station. On the hull, Milliea was riding over the engine deck with two more of the insurgents, the three sharing a large wool blanket against the cold. Behind the tank was a carriage that Ritsuko had rigged up to the tow loops at the rear of Mike in a way that steered the carriage as it towed it. In the carriage were the rest of the insurgents and Airi's personal servants. The Chancellor had ordered her guards to take the second carriage and go ahead of them, over-riding the protests of the guardsmen. She assured them that they would arrive safely and left it at that.

That morning, they had reached the top of the pass and the guard station that Raltaow maintained there, cut into the rock of the mountain. Airi had passed them through while Ritsuko eyed the outpost, deciding where she would put the HE shells from Mike so that the entire outpost was destroyed in case they had any trouble. Fortunately for the garrison stationed there, they had not irritated Ritsuko, and Mike had rolled on through, leaving them slack-jawed. Now, they were pushing through the second pass. It would be evening by the time they reached the narrow valley where the primary defense force for Raltaow's approaches had a permanent encampment.

As the tank crested the pass, Ritsuko used her binoculars to scan the valley, spotting the carriage that had left three days earlier. Smiling a nasty smile, she keyed her mic. “Airi, your entourage is at the base. I plan to stop short for a pit stop before we plow through. I don't want to be stuck behind that carriage in the passes tomorrow. I'll run with lights or use night vision. Objections?” she asked.

“Whatever you feel is best, Rit-chan,” came the calm reply. Ritsuko smiled.

The group stopped right at the tree line to stretch their legs, relieve their bladders and grab some food. After a twenty minute break, Ritsuko saddled them back up and was off. She stopped at the pitiful barricade across the road in front of the fort just long enough for Airi to identify herself and then she was off, Mike running at full throttle across the valley and up into the road to the pass. There were a few places where it was a bit tight, but nothing special for a tank. Snow in those locations would be shoved aside by the prow of Mike, and the slant meant it was unlikely that he would slip off the edge. Still, she made notes of the area before ordering Mike to slow a bit. Night fell as the tank approached the third pass.

Switching on the lights, Ritsuko guided Mike through the pass without incident before plunging down into the valley, where a timber bridge spanned a rocky river. Concerned about her precious Mike, Ritsuko got out and scouted the river, finding a good spot just upriver from the bridge. Mike powered through the river, his weight keeping the carriage in line without problem before beginning the climb to the final pass. Just past midnight, they crested the pass, pausing to look into the large valley that was the center of Raltaow. Far in the distance, Ritsuko saw the dim glow of torches and lamps.

“Well, let's get going,” said Airi after letting Ritsuko look things over.

“Sure. Power through or camp at the base?” replied Rit-chan.

“Let's avoid causing too much commotion,” Airi answered. “Let's get down to the valley, and I will guide you to a good spot for Mike to rest.”

“On it,” was all she got in response, Mike diving off the pass and down the hill. In no time at all, Airi was guiding Ritsuko into a blind valley off the main valley floor. It was about half-way to the capital from the pass. With a good spot found, the group settled down to sleep. The air was crisp and cool, but they had good camping gear and were tired, so it was easy to get some sleep.

The next morning, as dawn broke over the peaks surrounding the valley, Ritsuko was sipping her morning coffee. She had used the small military fuel-tablet stove to make the coffee, so it hadn't awoken any of the others. “Morning, Rit-can,” came Airi's voice, a hand touching her shoulder.

“Morning, Airi,” Ritsuko replied. Hearing some sounds, she saw the youngest of her insurgents stumble out of the tent, heading for the bushes not too far from the tent. “So, what is the plan for today?” she asked.

“I was thinking we would drive to the capital and I would introduce you to the Queen,” Airi replied, taking the cup of coffee from Ritsuko for a careful sip. “But I think it would be best to leave your…friends out of the spotlight,” she added.

“Obviously,” smiled Ritsuko. Insurgents worked behind the scenes, after all.

“Ritsuko,” Airi said, touching the younger woman's cheek with a palm, “I want you to dress in what I give you and trust me,” she requested.

Ritsuko considered that as she took the cup back and had some more coffee. “Ok, Airi,” she decided a moment later. “You've always done right by me, so I'll follow your lead on this.”

“Thank you, Rit-chan,” Airi said, gently guiding Ritsuko into a tight hug, her lips brushing Ritsuko's cheek as she hugged her.

“Hey, Airi, I'm not that easy,” giggled Ritsuko. “I want dinner and a movie first,” she added, hugging Airi tighter.

“That can be arranged, if you would accept a play instead of a movie,” countered Airi, the two sharing a warm laugh between them before separating a bit to finish the coffee. From the bushes, the youngest of the insurgents watched intently, her mind busy.

Junpei sighed, idly pushing his food around on the plate. “Why the big sigh, tough guy?” asked the owner of the eatery.

“I've been here forever, but I can't find my friend or this `Boss' person,” he complained. Everyone he had asked either didn't know anything, or wouldn't tell him anything. To top it all off, none of the locals were even a warm-up for him in a fight.

“Well, that's how life goes, sometimes,” commiserated the owner, pretending to listen while not hearing a word that was said. “Don't you have any other friends?” he added by rote.

Junpei perked up. “Yeah! Yeah, I do, old man,” he said, standing from the stool. “That's a great idea,” he nodded to himself as he tossed a couple of coins on the counter by his barely-touched grilled fish plate before exiting the restaurant. The other female slave was supposedly sold to Raltaow, so I will go look for her for the time being; maybe kill that Chancellor thing, too, he firmed up his brilliant plans as he walked through the city. Abruptly, he stopped. “Where is this Raltaow place anyway?” he asked himself aloud. Not getting an answer, he shrugged. He was certain that he could find someone who knew as he headed back the way he came. One thing he was sure of was that this kingdom wasn't Raltaow. Well, he was reasonably certain, anyway.

Spotting a merchant readying some wagons, he hurried over. “Hey, got a question,” he said when he reached the merchant. “I'm looking for some place called Raltaow. Do you know where it is?”

“What are you, a simpleton?” came the response from the merchant, who hadn't turned to see who was bothering him. “Raltaow is across the Kingdoms and south through the Sky Sentinel mountains.”

“So it isn't anywhere near here, right?” confirmed Junpei. The merchant finally turned to look at the idiot asking such ridiculous questions, only to find himself face to face with an obvious fighter.

“N…no, it isn't anywhere near here. In fact, because of the gulf, you have to go back into the Central Kingdoms, then over the Western Kingdoms before making for the passes into Raltaow.”

“Ok. So, which way is the Central Kingdoms?” he asked intently.

“Tell you what,” the merchant said, “I am taking a load of goods into the central kingdom, and could use a guard. If you come along with me, and fend off any bandits we encounter, I will take you to the foot of the road to Raltaow,” countered the merchant. Junpei considered that for a moment.

“Ok,” he agreed. “Do you happen to know where someone named `Boss' is?” he asked.

“Why would you want to find her?” wondered the merchant.

“Oh, I just want to kill her,” replied Junpei. The merchant blinked.

“Why?” he asked, stunned that anyone would be stupid enough to make such a claim in public in the heart of the Rebellion territories.

“Dunno,” shrugged Junpei, unconcerned. The merchant glanced around, his mind busy.

“Do you now, young man,” he murmured. “Well, I'm ready to head out, if you are ready?” he asked. Junpei easily climbed aboard the wagon.

“Sure,” he agreed easily. The merchant climbed on as well, snapping the reins to the four-horse team, setting off. The strange young fighter got comfortable and soon dozed off. The merchant passed the time by estimating how much he could get from the windfall that had just so happened to land in his lap.

It was fifteen days later when the merchant reached the border. Instead of staying on the main road, he turned the wagon down a side road, and after a very bumpy trip over a roughly-formed path - it kept Junpei from getting any rest - they arrived at a small checkpoint along the river that served as the border for the Southern Kingdoms. “My friend, let me do the talking, ok? Not a word from you,” admonished the merchant, dismounting the wagon.

Junpei shrugged, watching the soldier at the checkpoint eye them. The merchant approached and spoke with them in low tones. After a few moments, the merchant handed them a small bag of coins, and they talked a bit more before the merchant returned and started the wagon forward. The soldiers dragged aside some large tree limbs, revealing a stone ramp into the river. The wagon negotiated the ramp and worked its way across the hidden ford, climbing out in a semi-natural ravine on the other side. Once they were back on a side road, the merchant turned the wagon back toward the main road, soon reaching another checkpoint, this one manned by Allied Kingdom soldiers. The merchant showed the leader a piece of parchment and they were allowed to pass, reaching the nearest town a few hours past sunset.

As Junpei ate, the merchant slipped away to the local pigeon mews to send a dispatch to the capital. His contact in Military Intelligence would pay handsomely for this information and the opportunity it presented, after all. With that done, he returned to the inn for a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, he would sell some of the black market goods he had acquired in the Southern Kingdoms along with some of the regular materials, buy new items and move on. It was what a traveling merchant did, after all.

“Miss Airi, I trust you are well?” the Queen asked, hugging the actress. Airi smiled at the Queen, affectionately stroking her hair.

“Of course, my Queen,” she replied. “Have you been well?”

“Yes, thanks to your work before you left on your trip,” the young woman confirmed. “Everything is going according to the plan.”

“That's good to hear,” Airi said, taking her Queen's hand in hers and guiding her to a couch in the royal apartments in the palace. “I introduced you to Lady Ritsuko in court earlier, but I want to re-introduce her now that we are alone,” Airi went on, indicating Ritsuko, who was standing to the side of the couch, dressed in a court gown that had a neckline that barely covered her nipples while the skirt was made to display her legs to upper thigh when walking. “She is a long-time acquaintance of mine; and a very near and dear friend of mine as well,” she said, Ritsuko recognizing her cue and moving closer.

“My Queen,” she greeted the young woman, giving a careful bow. Damn gown, part of her snarled.

“I am pleased to meet you, Lady Ritsuko,” the queen replied. “How did you and Miss Airi meet?” she wondered.

“We were sold as slaves by the same person,” Airi said, catching Ritsuko's eyes as she said it. The Queen gasped.

“Her as well? I am so sorry,” she apologized. Airi squeezed the young queen's hand.

“It is ok, my queen,” she dismissed the topic. Ritsuko studied the queen. She was younger than Ritsuko, but not by much. Dark haired, she sort of reminded her of how she pictured Airi when younger, her face fine-boned without being doll-like or overly-delicate. Shorter than either Airi or her, she was nevertheless well proportioned, and the royal gown left no more to the imagination than Ritsuko's did. Overall, Ritsuko decided she would probably like this kid if the queen didn't piss her off. “Shall I help you get out of the court gown?” smiled Airi.

“Yes, please!” came the reply from the young woman. “You know I hate how tight this corset is,” she added. Ritsuko saw Airi give her a look, and she joined her teammate, swiftly getting the queen undressed before helping her into a simple dress. “I have not seen Persephone or Hecate yet. Are they well?” asked the Queen.

“Of course,” smiled Airi. “They are busy with another matter. How are Artemis and Venus?” asked the Chancellor in turn.

“Artemis is seeing to a matter she won't tell me about but that I suspect is arrangements for my birthday party, and Venus is inspecting a new gown for me,” the queen said, settling onto the couch again, this time leaning against Airi, a happy smile on her face. Ritsuko took the chair closest to Airi's end of the couch, her eyes sharp.

“Yes, your birthday is coming up rapidly, isn't it my queen,” smiled Airi. “You will be turning how old again?” she asked innocently.

“Miss Airi! It is my sixteenth birthday!” protested the Queen. Ritsuko did some quick math in her head, realizing that Airi had gotten control of the future queen when she was just nine years old. No wonder she completely controls her without the queen even realizing it, Ritsuko thought. Another Oscar-winning performance, Airi, part of her silently proclaimed.

“Sixteen already? Where does time go?” Airi murmured. “Before you know it, you will be married and having kids,” added the actress. The Queen frowned.

“The lords have already begun throwing their sons at me,” she complained. “And offers from Kings in the Alliance have been flooding in since last year, offering their sons and nephews. What am I, some sort of door prize?” came the sour remark from the Queen.

“First born sons?” Airi asked.

“A few, but mostly second or third,” snorted the queen. “I saved all the offers, in case you wanted to know who was offering.”

“Yes, I am interested in that,” Airi replied. “I hope you have not accepted any without speaking with me,” she added, her tone making it sound like concern for the queen's well-being.

“You are the only one I trust, Airi,” the Queen replied.

“I am humbled by your praise, my Queen,” replied the actress, “but I hope you will view my dear personal friend Ritsuko as someone you can trust completely as well. You and she share many common traits and I think you could be good friends. Also, I trust her more than anyone else on this world - and she had proven to be worthy of that trust,” the Chancellor piled it on.

The Queen looked over Ritsuko, who eyed her back. “Are you disfigured like Miss Airi, Lady Ritsuko?” asked the Queen. Ritsuko shook her head.

“No. But I bear scars from my time as a slave,” she replied calmly.

“You will see some of them tonight in the baths,” Airi interjected.

“I know you were not sold to Raltaow, as Airi was, so where did you end up, and how did you earn your freedom?” wondered the Queen, curious about the red-head. Airi made eye contact with Ritsuko.

“I was sold to a plantation in the Southern Kingdoms, where I endured six years of hell before I killed my would-be owners and overthrew all the kingdoms in the Southern Kingdoms,” she answered. I hope you are right about this girl, Airi, Ritsuko thought to herself. If not, she would fix the problem then and there.

“You are the legendary `Boss'?!” the Queen nearly squealed, Ritsuko practically seeing the stars in her eyes. “Tell me all about it!” begged the Queen. Before she could decide how to respond, there was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Airi called out. A moment later, two body servants wearing medallions with the Queen's seal entered, Persephone and Hecate just behind them.

“Artemis, Venus, how good to see you again,” Airi greeted.

“Chancellor Airi,” the two bowed, along with Persephone and Hecate. “Welcome home,” they said in unison before straightening.

“Thank you, it is good to be back,” Airi replied, actually sounding like she meant it. “Did you get Lady Ritsuko's staff settled?” she asked her two personal body servants, Persephone and Hecate.

“Yes, milady,” Persephone answered. “I presume you would want Lady Ritsuko to share your suite. Is that correct?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Airi confirmed. Glancing over at Ritsuko, who was giving off signs of being restless, she smiled. “If you will excuse us, my queen, Ritsuko and I will change into more comfortable clothes,” she hinted.

“I'll come with you,” the Queen said, sitting up and then standing. Airi and Ritsuko stood as well.

“Very well, my queen,” Airi said, the group departing the royal chambers, “tell me, how is the economy?” The Queen groaned, making Ritsuko smile a little.

That night, after a long bath with Airi and the Queen, Ritsuko was brushing her hair before getting into bed, a thin cotton shift somewhat concealing her body. Airi was tending to her own nightly routines. “Noticed the servant's names,” Ritsuko observed. “Your handiwork, obviously.”

“Yes. When I first arrived - as plaything for the former king's son - they were literally nameless slaves. I saw potential in them and nurtured it. I taught them to read and write, do math and how to conceal their new skills. I even gave them names once I knew I could trust them,” smiled Airi.

“Yeah, well, when I did the same thing - minus the naming part - with the plantation owner's wife and daughters, I got whipped, starved and given to the sons as a plaything for a week,” bit out Ritsuko. Airi reached out to touch Ritsuko's shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Ritsuko,” she said softly.

“I don't hold a grudge anymore,” shrugged Ritsuko. Airi knew Ritsuko most certainly held a grudge. “The worst part was the sadistic little monsters trying to one-up the other with me,” she added darkly. “Many of these scars are their handiwork, but I guess I should be glad I was their first - it meant they didn't really know what they could do with a girl.”

“That isn't always a good thing,” Airi murmured. She is finally letting me in again, no matter how little or how slowly, rejoiced the actress.

“The worst thing they came up with in that area was doing me in the same hole at the same time. Thank god they were pencil-dicked assholes like their father,” she muttered darkly.

“Their father took you as well? Wasn't he married?” Airi asked.

“Yes, but the wife and daughters were treated barely better than slaves, and he was a hateful asshole when drinking - which was most of the time. They wouldn't say anything unless it was causing them problems,” Ritsuko explained. “Fortunately, he grew tired of me quickly, but one of the miscarriages was his,” she whispered. “The wife found out and caused a scene, which was good in that it got me sent to the fields.”

“Good?” wondered Airi.

“I was able to solidify my position as the leader of the slaves, and after weeding out the snitches and cowards, I was the real power on the plantation. When I found the crate of rifles, it was time to end the game.”

“I see,” murmured Airi. So, she has been killing since before the Rebellion, noted the actress. “I noticed you haven't been wearing your uniform since breaking free; nor your ponytail.”

“I got used to wearing it braided while working in the fields,” shrugged Ritsuko. “Also, the uniform and the ponytail are part of my Those Who Hunt Elves identity, and we can't be using that right now,” she reminded the actress.

“I see. That makes sense,” Airi responded. “How are you feeling? Medically speaking, that is,” she clarified. Ritsuko frowned.

“I don't know,” she replied quietly. “There are things that are probably symptoms, but I can't be sure because I don't know what is knocking around this world, and neither do the idiots who pass for doctors here!” she nearly yelled in frustration.

“On the bright side, it is possible that it is just something mundane from our world. I know I have encountered that a time or two while a slave,” noted Airi.

“Thought of that, too,” Ritsuko replied. “I taught the female slaves how to make douche from boiled water and vinegar, and brought the hygiene standards up for all slaves even before the revolt, but some of the symptoms remain. I just don't have the medical equipment I need, nor is the knowledge I need available in this damn fantasy world.”

“This is intolerable!” yelled one of the Kings to his fellow monarchs. “This month alone, nine caravans have been attacked, five government buildings have been set fire, eleven nobles have been killed or seriously injured, and three bridges have been destroyed - and all without anyone seeing anything or finding anything! Who is carrying out such terrible acts?!”

“It is the same in most of our Kingdoms,” another king responded. “My kingdom has lost nearly all its fishing boats and the warehouses in our largest port were destroyed in a fire that no one knew how to put out. Bad enough that the shipyards burned weeks ago, but now the very warehouses, docks and all the goods in them are gone. Our people are going hungry because the fishing fleet is nearly completely destroyed, and malcontents blame this on the nobility. There have been riots and clashes between my subjects and my guards to the point where I have had to order a company of soldiers back from the Alliance army guarding the border of the Southern Kingdoms.”

“You will excuse us our lack of tears over your troubles in your kingdoms when our own kingdoms remain under the illegal rule of revolting slaves,” came the sardonic remarks from one of the three kings from the Southern Kingdoms. “At least you still have your kingdoms,” he nearly pouted.

“Not for long, if this keeps up,” the king of the Capital Kingdom pointed out. “Unrest spreads even in the capital, and nearly daily there is a riot, fire, ambush or murder of a noble. My Minister of Internal Order insists it is the criminal groups doing this, but the pattern is all wrong. While some of the acts have been positively linked to criminal elements, most of them have no perpetrator and no rhyme or reason that we can spot. Already the local nobles and the merchants are demanding that some or all of the military forces currently guarding the border be recalled to protect the capital and their interests.”

“You would leave the Rebels unchecked?!” sputtered another of the three kings.

“They have shown little inclination to break out of the Southern Kingdoms,” noted the Military Liaison. “In point of fact, there has not been a single probing attack or even meaningful counter-attack since they solidified their position on the border of the kingdoms. They seem quite content to dig in and hold what they have conquered.”

“Yes, quite content to tighten their grip on our lands,” huffed the third King from the Southern Kingdom. “And how is it that every attack or probe is defeated - seemingly without effort?” he demanded.

“They are employing strange tactics and utilizing unheard of magic. Our own magic users are unable to unravel their spells and our most brilliant military tacticians are still analyzing their tactics to discover their weaknesses, but rest assured that they will be defeated,” promised the fancily-dressed general who served as the mouthpiece of the Alliance Military.

“Before or after we are forced to negotiate with them?” snorted another king. “My taxes this year are less than a third what they were last year, thanks to the unrest and destruction of key structures. And that is to say nothing of the cost of repairing those facilities and fielding more vassals to keep the peace.”

“It seems to me you gentlemen have quite the problem on your hands,” smiled the king of the biggest kingdom in the alliance. “Chancellor Airi may have had a point about the way things are developing,” he noted. “Fortunately, my kingdom has been more orderly,” he bragged.

“Because you have only released two measly companies - one infantry and one cavalry - to the fight against the Rebellion, keeping the rest in your own kingdom!” accused a Southern king. “You sit and smile as the rest of us fight this war,” he grunted.

“I have committed as many men as any other kingdom in the alliance,” argued the King. “Why should I commit more when I have more lands to protect?”

“This is pointless arguing that goes nowhere,” the king of the most prosperous kingdom in the Western Kingdoms interrupted the brewing argument. “We should be deciding if we are going to negotiate with the Rebellion or not. That is the only thing worth debating at this point. Myself, I am inclined to at least begin negotiations, if for no other reason than to pin the Rebellion in place. If we can agree to acceptable terms for an armistice, then it is better a negotiated peace than a losing fight, which is what we seem to have on our hands right now,” he said firmly.

“You would negotiate with rebelling slaves?!” sputtered a Southern king.

“In fact I would, since defeating them has proven to be impossible to date and the effects of maintaining an army in the field is draining our treasuries and accomplishing very little of note. In the worst case scenario, we occupy their attention with diplomats while our military rebuilds and comes up with a better plan at a fraction of the cost in money, materials and manpower than the current strategy; which has produced nothing of note save a lot of dead soldiers,” stated the king.

“Unbelievable…!” was the scandalized response from more than one king present.

“Tell me, do any of you know the hard numbers for keeping an army in the field? Especially in winter?” asked the king who had brought up negotiating. Hearing muttering, but no answer, he went on, glancing at a parchment in his hand. “I do. Allow me to share them with you. This is the costs for the last two months that one of my companies - a heavy infantry company - has incurred in order to remain in position and ready to fight,” he paused, glancing around the room to make sure the majority of the kings were listening. “Food - four hundred Alliance gold crowns. Shoes - one hundred and two Alliance silver marks. Replacement garments - fifty nine silver marks. Replacement weapons and armor - three military blacksmiths and one hundred sixty gold crowns. Tents, fuel for heating, rope, nails and assorted materials - ninety gold crowns and seventy silver marks. Horses, feed and wagons - five teamster groups on relay for a total of just over one hundred thirty gold crowns and eighty one silver marks. That, gentlemen, is what it is costing me each and every month to keep one company in position to blockade an attack that has never come. My Minister of the Treasury reports my kingdom is dangerous low on silver thanks to this, and our gold reserves are dropping faster than they can be recovered. I dare say that is the case with all of our kingdoms; save, of course, our Southern brethren who have no kingdom or treasury or armies at the moment,” he added, giving a courtesy half-bow to the three fuming kings.

Angry muttering could be heard from the three Southern kings. “Raltaow has been reducing the number of iron ore shipments for the last three years, too,” noted another king, this on from the Eastern Kingdoms whose kingdom specialized in making steel armor and weapons. “Their Chancellor stated it was because of the former king's failing health and the following succession, but she did not commit to more shipments and even suggested that their new Queen would avoid conflict zones due to the risk to their shipments.”

“Aye, the bitch,” agreed another king, this one from a Northern Kingdom. It was the second largest source of iron ore, but their deposits were harder to mine and of poorer quality than the Raltaow ore, and with the armies in the field, there were fewer laborers to do the mining. “She seemed to harbor sympathies for the Rebellion, what with her having the slave marks on her,” he complained.

“Again, gentlemen, we are getting off topic,” the Western Kingdom spokesman broke up the tangent. “I put forth that if we continue with a strictly military campaign, we will lose by way of economic ruin even if the rebellion does nothing. For that reason, I would seek to open negotiations with whoever leads this rebellion. As we all know, negotiations can take months - sometimes years - but are far less costly. Consider this: if each of our kingdoms sent a negotiator to talk with the leaders of the rebellion, it would cost us less than five gold crowns a month; and probably much less than that. We could bring the bulk of our armies home to deal with the unrest and still keep the rebellion contained, all while saving our economies. If the negotiations are successful, all the better. If they are not, we are the ones profiting from the delay, rather than the reverse.”

“You would leave the border wide open to a sudden attack?” demanded a king who kingdom was right across the river from one of the biggest fords.

“General, please remind the Congress of your best estimates of the Rebellion strength in terms of fighters and supplies,” the king requested, gesturing to the general.

“Our spies and best intelligence suggests that the total number of soldiers - if you can call them that - in the rebellion is approximately one quarter the size of our forces, and are almost entirely devoted to the defense of the border. Additionally, experience against them has shown that once their `Boss' was killed, any engagements where they were without defensive breastworks or positions inevitably led to heavy losses for them and very minor losses for our army. In short, our soldiers are far superior, but the enemy profits from being the defenders. If they attack, they lose the only edge they have, and our troops gain the defensive advantage. It would be to our advantage if we could entice them to attack; because then we could slaughter them and the way back into the Southern Kingdoms would be open,” stated the general.

“Where are the rest of the slaves, then?” wondered one of the Southern Kings.

“Our agents have reported that they are mostly engaged in operating the plantations, performing strange building projects and maintaining the economy,” the general replied.

“Slaves running the plantations and building things? Don't be so ridiculous! Slaves are incapable of such things without a master to direct them!” one of the kings in exile decried.

“Perhaps their `Boss' was not killed, then,” noted a king from the Central Kingdoms, “or her successors - these `Captains' you have spoken of before - are more skilled than anticipated.”

“We do know that at least a few plantation owners have thrown in with the Rebellion,” noted the General.

“Traitors,” spat a Southern King.

“The ones who didn't died, your majesty,” replied the General. “We believe that once the Military penetrates the Southern Kingdoms, the ones who pretended to cooperate with the rebellion to save their lives will become invaluable allies in rooting out the rebel ringleaders.”

“Now there is a thought,” a Southern King said, hitting upon an idea. “If we do send negotiators down there, we send trusted agents who can identify the loyalists and organize with them to help us overthrow the uprising,” he suggested. More than a few kings liked that idea.

“At the very least, some of our negotiators should be military men,” another king warmed to the idea. “That way, rather the negotiations drag on or are swift, we can see what their weaknesses are and exploit them when the time comes.” Sounds of agreement came from many of the Kings.

The sound of the servants' door opening caught their attention, and a page for the Congress hurried to the seat of the king of the largest kingdom, bowing before offering him a sealed letter. The king broke the seal as the page scurried from the room, and a moment later, he shot to his feet, swearing. “I must return to my kingdom,” he said, already moving toward the door. “It would seem this strange unrest has spread to my kingdom at last.”

“What is the trouble?” the King in the seat of Chairman asked.

“Our largest dam - the one that supplies a major section of our farmlands and many mills and foundries - has been destroyed, and a large wildfire is sweeping through the far western fields. As you know, this has been a dry summer, so the flames endanger many cities and a not-inconsiderate section of grain fields. I must return to direct the efforts personally, but I will say this now: my vote - and you can mark it as such right now - is to begin negotiations with the rebellion. Now, I must ride for my capital,” he announced, exiting the room.

A day later, the Congress of Kings had agreed to attempt negotiations with the Rebellion, and had worked out a rough set of terms they were prepared to offer the rebels. The chief negotiator would be from the court of the king that suggested it, and was a highly-experienced diplomat and statesman. His team would consist of other junior diplomats, scribes and functionaries in addition to some `diplomats' who were military officers and others who were tasked with finding sympathetic people within the Southern Kingdoms to aid the re-taking of the kingdoms.

Of course, the trick was to find a way to negotiate with the rebels. Because of some earlier incidents, the normal `herald party with flag of truce' was not a viable option. Finally, the kings hit upon having a neutral third party ask the rebels to open negotiations. The first - and obvious - choice was Chancellor Airi, but they quickly learned she had returned to Raltaow, and by the time anyone could send word to her, the passes would be snowed in. It was the prince of a Western Kingdom king who suggested asking the Temple of Celsia to be their intermediaries. The common consensus was that his marriage to an elf girl was the reason he would suggest such a thing to his father, but the idea had merit outside of the spark that had given birth to it.

So, the next week, a herald of the Congress of Kings had paid a visit to Annette in the Temple, and formally - pompously - informed her that she would be their messenger. Annette had reacted as anyone would when confronted that way. When the herald had recovered, he sent a page back to the temple to explain things more clearly to the Priestess and request her assistance in bringing peace back to the kingdoms. The page - a mid-teens boy of minor noble standing - had returned two days later and reported that Annette would at least ask, but she had a list of requirements she would have to have first; starting with an air narwhale. The way he blushed and stammered when talking about Annette had spoken volumes about the reason it had taken him two days to return with the message.

And so, Annette set out on a military air narwhale on an overcast day with a frigid wind blowing beneath lead-grey skies toward the Southern Kingdoms. As she crossed the river that marked the divide, she idly watched the ground below. Wow, Ritsuko knows her stuff, she thought, seeing how hard it was to spot the fortifications. Some were obviously meant to be seen and to draw attention, while the bulk of the defenses were hidden, concealed or not visible to the eye of anyone who didn't know how they worked. She saw some horses racing away from the positions she passed over, and knew that messengers were being dispatched. That was fine. She had talked with Ritsuko and Airi via Moonlight Mirror the night before and knew exactly where to go and who to speak with as well as being given certain passwords and challenge answers.

The air narwhale set down the following evening at the capital of the Southern Kingdoms, where a company of soldiers was formed up to meet her. Disembarking the air narwhale, she identified herself and told the man in charge to take her directly to the Captains. She had been rebuffed, and when the man got a little physical with her, she had zapped him with a spell that made his testicles feel ice-cold before repeating her orders to take her to the Captains. An older man who seemed to be a sergeant had decided to take her at her word and she had been escorted to a building by a group of men with drawn swords while archers tracked her from windows and rooftops.

Reaching a room, she had been told the Captains were in the room. Nodding, she had stepped forward toward the door, only to feel a knife-tip press into her lower back. “First sign of a spell, long-ears, and I'll cut the spine right out of your body,” the older man had warned. Annette had snorted.

“I am sure you would,” she replied, opening the doors. “But your Boss wouldn't be amused,” she added, seeing five people in the room, along with four archers in the corners and two crossbowmen to either side of the door. “You must be the Captains,” she said, ignoring the threats in the room. “I am Annette, acting High Priestess of Common Elves, Temple of Celsia. I have been asked by the Alliance of Kingdoms to extend to you all the offer of negotiations toward an armistice. This is the sealed letter of declaration confirming that,” she said, holding up a rolled-up parchment with the seal of the Alliance of Kingdoms on it.

One of the captains gestured, and the old soldier took the parchment to one of the women in the chairs. Interesting, thought the elf, only one male Captain. The woman swiftly broke the seal and read the document aloud, leading Annette to surmise that not all the captains were literate. She also named off the seals at the bottom of the document, which were the commitments from the individual kingdoms. Finished, she set the parchment aside. “So, you are to take the response back?” asked the woman.

“I am to make sure that your answer is known,” replied Annette. “But I have other business in other places to attend to, so I will likely simply tell you the correct method to send your answer to the Alliance,” she added.

“And if our answer is your severed head?” grunted one of the Captains.

“That would be unfortunate; for you,” Annette replied, unimpressed. “I believe the word is pronounced `Saitama',” she said, smiling a little at the flinch from three of the captains.

“And if I were to say `Kyoto' to you in response?” asked the Captain who had read the offer for negotiations.

“Then the answer could only be that the Lady of the Holly Woods will hear of it,” Annette replied. The woman nodded slightly. “Guards, you are dismissed,” she ordered. The bowmen and the soldier hesitated. “Dismissed,” repeated the woman a bit more firmly. “Close the doors behind you, and place a guard on the air narwhale,” added the woman as the men left. Once the room was secure, Annette found a chair and pulled it closer to the table before sitting down.

“You have spoken with Boss?” asked the woman, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the group.

“Yesterday evening, by spell,” Annette confirmed. “I told her what the Allied Kingdoms told me to tell you, and she had some things to say in turn. She gave me the challenge word and answer, obviously. She also told you to review the notes she gave you about negotiating with the Kingdoms, so be sure to do that. Also, she dictated a few new things as well. I will be going to where she is after I tell you how to make your reply to the Kingdoms, if there is anything you need sent to her.”

“How do we know we can trust her?” challenged the man.

“Besides her knowing the challenges and counter-challenges? She is here alone and is an elf,” the woman said.

“If you doubt me, I can cast the Moonlight Mirror spell and you can speak with her yourself,” Annette offered.

“We have no magic users to confirm the spell is real,” grunted the man. Annette shrugged.

“Would you not be able to tell if she is the real Boss by talking with her?” she challenged. “Either way, no skin off my nose,” she added indifferently.

“Cast the spell, then, elf,” the woman said. Annette inclined her head before casting the spell. A moment later, the group saw an elf appear in the dark mirror.

“That's not…!” began the man, but the woman held up her hand, silencing him.

“Annette? Where are you?” asked the elf, staring at the other curiously. “Hope you aren't calling for a rescue; we're a bit far afield for that,” smirked the elf, who had red hair and was of darker skin than Annette.

“You are hysterical, Gabriella,” sighed Annette. “Where is Boss?” she asked. “Her Captains want to confirm my allegiance with her,” she explained dryly.

“Give me a sec,” Gabriella said, moving away, the mirror following her. Stopping at a door, she knocked lightly. A moment later, another elf poked her head out. “Boss's underlings want to speak with her,” Gabriella said, hiking a thumb over her shoulder to the mirror spell.

“I don't know, Gabs, she just fell asleep…” began the elf, only to be interrupted by their Boss opening the door wider.

“I can hear you, you know,” she grunted. Ritsuko was mostly naked, and she did not look happy. Spotting the mirror spell with Annette and her Captains watching, she sighed. “Yes, that elf is with us. No, she is not an enemy agent. Follow the protocol she gives you and open negotiations with the Alliance, but expect treachery. I want the movements of the representatives closely monitored. You know what we are looking for and what to do when we know who they are, so follow the plan. No matter what it might seem like, the negotiations are nothing more than a stall tactic at this time, so stick to the demands we settled on, and do not give an inch on any of them. Toss in some ridiculous stuff that you can compromise on later, and don't forget to switch up the negotiators fairly regularly; they will do the same. Anything else?” she asked, her tone dangerously curt.

“No, Boss,” the Captains replied in unison.

“Good, because if I have to come back there and straighten you all out again, heads will roll, understood?” she warned.

“Yes, Boss!” they confirmed, knowing she would do that.

“Um, if I may, where are you?” asked the woman. Ritsuko studied her for a long moment.

“Staying with…friends,” she said, even as another woman came up behind Ritsuko. The Captains saw the slave markings around her midsection as she placed a hand on their Boss's shoulder.

“Trouble?” asked the woman, eyeing the group.

“No; not yet, at least,” Ritsuko said, turning back into the room. The group could see a bed in the room, the cover turned back. Two steps in, she stopped abruptly and spun back to the spell. “One more thing! No winner yet!” she added, gesturing to Annette to end the spell, the elf doing so as the other two elves laughed.

“That is Boss, no question,” the man chuckled. “Damn, thought I had won, too,” he grunted.

“Boss.”

“That is Lady Ritsuko,” came the immediate chiding, along with a slightly-stinging swat from the thin rod held by Airi. “Never refer to her as `Boss' where someone might hear you. Such a lapse could cost us dearly,” lectured Airi.

“Yes, Chancellor Airi, I was mistaken to address her Ladyship so,” apologized the youngest of the insurgents, curtseying fluidly and elegantly in her court gown.

“Again, from the beginning,” commanded Airi, the insurgents obeying as they reset the practice receiving line for a noble banquet in the Allied Kingdoms. Persephone and Hecate were assisting, as were Artemis and Venus, playing the role of a king and queen, while Persephone and Hecate played the court herald and the guest of honor respectively. The group had been training since before breakfast, and had swiftly discovered that Airi was as harsh a taskmaster as Boss was - and sometimes worse.

“How goes it, Airi?” asked Ritsuko, appearing with the Queen, who was very obviously taken with Ritsuko's alter-ego `Boss', leader of the only successful slave rebellion. In some ways, it was only to be expected, as the Queen had been sheltered for so long and still led a relatively insulated existence. When confronted with the easily-romanticized celebrity that was `Boss', she was instantly infatuated. The fact that Airi had made it a point to reinforce to her puppet that Ritsuko was with her and trustworthy only deepened the worship. It amused Airi somewhat to see the subtle signs that Ritsuko was uneasy with the hero-worshipping the Queen was heaping on her.

“It progresses. They are learning at an acceptable rate,” Airi allowed, her very aura reflecting aristocratic superiority. If Ritsuko didn't know better, she would have sworn her older friend and teammate was generations-old royalty.

“You are so good, you make my trigger finger itch with that act,” Ritsuko sighed, her tone hinting at sourness. Airi laughed softly.

“So you do hold a grudge against nobility. I suppose you no longer find princesses and fairy tales entertaining,” smiled Airi.

“If I ever go to that theme park again, it will be to burn it to the ground,” bit out Ritsuko, her tone tight and dark. Airi sighed, moving over to Ritsuko and cupping her cheek with a hand.

“Day at a time, Rit-chan, day at a time,” she murmured in Japanese. Ritsuko nodded, touching the older woman's wrist. “And since you and my Queen have arrived, how about we all join in with the training,” she smiled.

“Sure, I guess,” sighed Ritsuko. Airi smiled, but her mind was busy. She is still wound so tight it worries me, thought the actress even as her puppet took the role of Queen and all but begged Ritsuko to play the king, freeing up the maids to take other roles. Her Ritsuko made a few off-color jokes about her being the King to the Queen's Queen in Japanese, making Airi shake her head and chide Ritsuko for sounding too much like Junpei. Ritsuko stuck her tongue out at Airi, which relieved a lot of Airi's concern.

“Very well, let's try this again,” ordered Airi, clapping her hands softly. The practice resumed, each of Ritsuko's insurgent team being judged by Airi, the Queen, their body servants and Ritsuko, though Ritsuko was chided just as often as the insurgents.

Though somewhat testy about the ornate social rules she had to keep in mind, Ritsuko limited her negative reactions to a few snide remarks and a handful of veiled threats against all their lives. Occasionally, a court functionary would come looking for either the Queen or Airi - though most often Airi - about some business concerning the running of the kingdom. Ritsuko found her mind wandered during those interruptions.

“So, Boss, where are the elves?” asked a voice, dragging her out of her thoughts. She had been standing by one of the tall, narrow windows in the hall they were using for their practice, staring out at the cold, snow-dusted garden. Turning, she saw it was the youngest and the one her age. Both were in full court gowns, while Ritsuko was in a simpler dress, the hem mostly hiding her boots. A rich, thick fur, flannel and wool hooded half-cloak concealed her head, shoulders and back to just below the knee and warded off the cold. The hood was currently down around her shoulders, half-hiding the silver pin that held the cloak together just below her throat.

“Taking care of something for me,” was all Ritsuko said. She had asked Milliea to help Gabriella and Rapier close in the barn she had acquired for Mike's lair farther down the valley from the palace. It was an almost-daily event for Ritsuko to visit her precious Mike. The barn already had a large coarse-woven tarp suspended just above Mike's height to help keep the tank protected, as well as having the majority of the gaps filled with mud and straw. Mike had a comfortable resting spot in the center of the barn, and even had a simple electric lighting system installed if Ritsuko needed more light while working on her tank.

“Boss, are you and Lady Airi lovers?” asked the youngest of the group. Ritsuko blinked.

“No, why would you think that?” she asked, giving the young girl a look.

“You are much closer with her than anyone else, and she is more forward with you than you have ever allowed anyone to be since the rebellion started,” stated the girl.

“Airi is a very dear friend; and one of the few I trust enough to let close,” Ritsuko said simply. She had never sugar-coated things before, and wasn't about to start now.

“I think you should become lovers,” stated the girl, the older one nodding.

“What?” came the shocked reply. “I don't see her like that…” she began, her tone changing slightly as she spoke. “It would cause problems, and that is the end of this discussion. Do I make myself clear?” she asked, her tone ending hard and cold.

“Yes, Boss!” the two chorused.

“Sounds like a lively conversation,” Airi interjected, appearing beside them a moment later. “Anyway, it is time for one more practice round, then the real thing,” smiled the actress.

“What?” wondered Ritsuko.

“Tonight, we are having a banquet in celebration of one of this kingdom's holidays. You will all be attending,” smiled Airi.

“I have other plans,” Ritsuko replied immediately, “but my minions will attend; and I will quiz them on what they learned afterwards,” she added before the others could beg off.

“You will be attending as well,” Airi disagreed calmly. “It is important, Rit-chan,” she added softly in Japanese. Ritsuko locked stares with Airi for a long moment.

“Ok, but don't try to stop me if I go to leave because if you do, it won't end well for the nobles,” grunted Ritsuko. Airi inclined her head.

“Agreed,” she sealed the deal. She clapped her hands twice. “Positions,” she called, the group resuming their roles. After another hour and a half of practice, the group broke up to prepare for the banquet. Ritsuko found herself being prepared by Airi, and when she saw the gown, she grimaced, but said nothing. Half-way through the fitting, the elven women returned, immediately finding entertainment at Ritsuko's expense. In retaliation, Ritsuko bullied them into attending as well, forcing them to wear gowns like her own. Gabriella had no problems with it, given it covered more than her usual outfit, while Rapier was suitably embarrassed to wear a dress that exposed her in the way the gown did. Milliea was a bigger issue, and finally they decided she would just attend in her armor as a guard for Ritsuko; which was what most of the kingdom's courtiers already thought she was.

The group had only just met up with the Queen and her body servants when a guard rushed up, prompting Milliea to ease her swords a hand-span out of the sheaths as Rapier and Gabriella subtly shifted between the guard and the two Elf Hunters. The guard dropped into a formal bow. “My Queen, we have spotted an air narwhale approaching. Our third guard station spotted it and signaled. It should be arriving within the hour,” he reported.

The Queen glanced at Airi. “Chancellor?” she asked.

“It should be fine, if it is the ambassador that I am hoping for,” smiled Airi. “Please have a squad meet the air narwhale - it will probably need to land in the garden or in the fountain circle - and greet the guests. It should be an elf Priestess from the Temple of Celsia. If it is not, show them to the formal audience waiting room and get their names, ranks and affiliations before reporting to me. If it is Annette, be courteous and show her to the greeting room by my chambers before sending word to me. Understood?” Airi directed.

“Yes, Chancellor,” the guard nodded, straightening up and hurrying off.

“Shall we, ladies?” smiled Airi, her hand taking Ritsuko's. Ritsuko sighed, knowing what Airi's casual touch meant for her. The group headed for the banquet hall where the event was to be held.

“If it is some bunch of nobles from the Kingdoms, I will send their heads back to their generals,” muttered Ritsuko, clearly unhappy and restless.

“My Queen, please excuse me and Lady Ritsuko for a moment,” Airi said, tugging Ritsuko aside. Once they were out of sight of the other ladies, Airi hugged Ritsuko tightly. “Ritsuko, please try to put all that out of your mind for tonight. I want you to relax while you can, but you seem to be struggling with that. How can I help you?” asked Airi directly. Ritsuko bit back the immediate response that sprang to mind - letting her do what she needed to do to the Kingdoms - and instead exhaled slowly before resting her head against Airi's neck for a moment.

“It's hard, Airi, but I will try,” she whispered before straightening and leading Airi back to the others by the hand. Mentally bracing herself, she allowed herself to be sucked into the banquet receiving line right behind Airi, who was behind the Queen.

Not quite an hour later according to her watch, a servant ghosted up to Airi and whispered in her ear. Airi whispered back and the servant scurried away. “Do I get to be a headhunter, or was it Annette?” asked Ritsuko quietly.

“Annette, as expected,” smiled Airi. “I directed she be given a gown and presented to the queen.” Ritsuko suddenly smiled.

“You are a bitch sometimes, Airi,” she accused happily.

“Aren't I, though?” Airi replied in English, the two touching glasses in an unvoiced toast. Ritsuko giggled softly as she sipped her drink. She had been adamant about spring water, and as far as she could tell, the servants had been almost at a loss about what to do. Finally, they had presented her with a pitcher full of water and snow and she had been working her way through it ever since. Airi and the others had been into the wine and ale, and she was probably the most sober one there - including her youngest. She had spotted a servant refilling the cup from the same decanter that Airi's had been filled from, and had thought about stepping in, but had held off, since the girl was allegedly a minor noble. That didn't stop her from generously sharing her water with the girl, diluting her wine.

It was another half hour before the doors opened and Annette entered, her face carefully neutral as she was announced to the room. She gave a basic curtsey before heading for the table where the Queen and Airi were sitting side-by-side, Ritsuko on Airi's other side. Annette's hair was done up in an ornate style, interwoven with gold and silver chain with semi-precious jewels scattered throughout. Her gown was a strapless, semi-cup corset-bodied number that covered her to her ankles. Some accessories had been added, Ritsuko suspecting that Persephone and Hecate had been involved in the dressing of the elf, since they had done up the other two elven women in a similar manner.

“High Priestess Annette, such a pleasure to see you again,” Airi greeted her warmly, standing. “Allow me to introduce you to my Queen,” she smoothly rolled right into the introductions. Ritsuko watched the room over the rim of her cup as a chair was skillfully added to the table with barely a ripple in the seating, Annette joining their table as a guest. The Elf Hunter picked out each of her agents, finding that they were all working the room. Nodding to herself, she picked at her plate, waiting for the banquet to end.

Two hours later, the banquet was over - at least for her - and she found herself laying in the bed she and Airi shared, the thin, short, loose cotton shirt she wore more or less covering some measure of her body. She was staring at the ceiling, mind idly turning in circles. Milliea had stuck to her side and was currently sitting in a chair near the bed. “Wonder how long that damn banquet will go on?” she mused aloud.

“As long as it does, probably,” came the answer from Milliea. Ritsuko smiled a little, having forgotten the elf girl was in the room. A moment later, Milliea was climbing onto the bed, pulling the surprised Ritsuko to her still-armored figure. “Better?” she asked, smiling warmly at the younger human.

“Better what, Milliea?” asked a semi-exasperated Ritsuko.

“You always end up cuddling with Airi, but since she isn't here, I figured you wanted someone to cuddle with. Am I ok or should I go get someone else?” Milliea answered.

Ritsuko sighed softly. “You're fine,” she capitulated, getting comfortable against the elf. She mentally drifted off.

“Isn't this a cozy sight,” a voice interrupted, focusing Ritsuko's mind again. She lifted her head, seeing Airi and the rest in the room.

“It's about time, Airi,” muttered Ritsuko sitting up.

“Wow, you're like a guy, Ritsuko,” Annette smiled. Ritsuko glanced down at herself. She had a noticeable six-pack of girl-abs going on, her limbs were lean and toned, and she worried her breasts and hips might have shrunk a bit.

“I could always sell you to slavers, I guess, see if you end up looking like this,” hissed the girl, unamused.

“Calm down, Ritsuko,” Airi soothed the girl. “I know people in Hollywood who would sell their souls to look like that; assuming they had souls to sell, which most of them don't,” she added a moment later. “But it wouldn't hurt to eat more,” added Airi softly, moving closer to the bed. “I saw what you ate at the banquet, and it was barely a thousand calories.”

“Plenty, since it was supper,” argued Ritsuko.

“You losing your appetite?” interjected Annette, serious now. Ritsuko shrugged.

“Maybe, but I doubt it - I have a lot on my mind. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Annette waved the question away.

“So, shall we get down to business?” Airi asked as the others found spots to sit. It was time for a war council.

“So, you mean the passes aren't passable?” Junpei asked, frowning.

“That is what the word `impassable' usually means,” agreed the merchant. “First snow was five weeks ago, and after that, you gamble with your life trying the passes. But, since the passes were caught in that storm last week, they are totally impassable. The town at the foot of the first pass is under five and a half feet of snow, and the pass is far higher. The locals say that the snow is deeper than it has been in a generation.”

“Then, how do I get to Raltaow?” asked Junpei.

“Same as everyone else: wait for spring and the thaw,” the merchant answered, his tone long-suffering. Junpei, he had learned, was not the smartest person he had ever met, but he was very skillful when it came to fighting. The younger man frowned at the distant wall of snow-clad mountains that prevented him from reaching this Raltaow place. The merchant kept the wagon moving.

“So, where are we heading, then?” Junpei asked a few minutes later, slouching back in the seat.

“We are heading for a major trade city on the West coast. Rumor has it that the markets there are high,” smiled the merchant.

“Any curry there?” asked Junpei.

“I suppose we can find out,” the merchant replied. Whatever this `curry' is, it must be some legendary food from a distant land, the way this idiot fixates on it, the merchant thought to himself. And whoever this Airi person is, she must be a goddess.

Junpei was not a great conversationalist. There were, in fact, only two things he really talked about: Airi and curry. Other than that, he either didn't care or didn't know. Well, he did care about fighting, but he didn't talk a lot about it, even when prompted. It was just something he did, not something he thought about. The pair reached the city four days later.

“So, they do understand politics,” the lead negotiator mused as his carriage crested the low hill and he saw the large tent set up for the preliminary meeting. Behind his carriage were three more and a squad of Royal Lancers were their escorts. By the tent waited a half-company of infantry. Eyes sweeping over the somewhat roughly-equipped former slaves, the dignitary found himself feeling uneasy. The men he saw did not look like the type who could have successfully conquered the Southern Kingdoms, nor beat back every attack on their positions, and yet, the Allied Kingdoms had been driven to the peace table, so something was going on he couldn't understand.

Minutes later, the carriages arrived and he climbed out as the Royal Lancers took parade-ground perfect position opposite the infantry. Absently adjusting his clothes, he strolled toward the tent, allowing his entourage to fall into position behind him. He was greeted by a well-dressed young woman just outside the flap. He formally identified himself, his intentions and his authority to speak for the Allied Kingdoms. The woman inclined her head after scanning a piece of parchment in her hand.

“Very well, my lord,” she said, reaching over and opening the tent flap. “Our negotiator is inside,” she said, inclining her head. The statesman entered the tent, finding it to be lit simply but well, a large table in the center with two chairs directly opposite each other, and two partial crescent rows of empty chairs behind either seat. Another woman sat in the chair for the Rebellion. Seeing him enter, she got to her feet.

“Ah, at last,” she said simply. “Are you prepared to begin?” asked the woman directly, causing some murmuring from behind the lead negotiator. A single twitch of his hand silenced his group.

“Almost,” he replied. “Might I have your name and position?” he asked calmly.

“I am a Captain of the Liberated Kingdoms, one of five, and I speak with Boss's voice in this matter. That should be sufficient for now,” came the cool reply.

“Yes, I suppose that will do for now,” agreed the man. She is likely one of the plantation owners who sided with the rebels, given her stance, vocabulary and body language. Likely educated in the Eastern Kingdom colleges and of not inconsiderable wealth. Interesting, allowed the old politician.

“With that, shall we take our seats and begin?” asked the woman, already sitting down and opening a leather pouch with rolled documents in it. The statesman flicked his hand, and his staff sat down, save for his personal assistant, who opened a similar pouch and swiftly laid out several scrolls. “First, our demands,” the woman said, sliding a rolled up scroll across the table to him before leaning back, her hands flat on the table as she watched him and his entourage.

As he unrolled the letter, he glanced around the tent. There was a crude but effective stove burning in a corner, keeping the chill down, a pile of hardwood sections waiting to be added if needed. Behind the self-proclaimed Captain of the Liberated Kingdoms, the chairs were empty save for two. One was occupied by an older man with grey hair, dressed in functional steel and leather armor, a sheathed sword leaned against his chair, his hand casually resting on the pommel. The other chair was occupied by a woman in a cloak, her face obscured by the hood, but her gender attested to by the swells on her chest and the shape of her figure, seen even through the cloak. She was taller than the Captain, a hint of red hair visible inside the hood's shadow. Is that the elusive `Boss' or is it just a decoy to distract us or to unbalance us into making a rash move? he wondered. Well, let's do a little jostling of our own, then, he decided.

“Your attendant seems familiar to me,” he began as he glanced at the letter. “Would he by chance be of the Rastali family, perhaps a former officer who was accused of being involved in a coup attempt…oh, it must have been thirty years ago now,” the nobleman asked casually, covertly glancing at the three opposite him. The man twitched slightly, but the women didn't react at all.

“What of it if he were?” asked the Captain idly, as if it were not real concern.

“Nothing in particular, just…interesting that he would be here, involved in another incident so similar to the last,” the man said, beginning to read the letter. It was well-written, in both penmanship and in grammar as well as being well-tuned. Someone knows how to write legal documents, he made mental note.

“Thirty four years,” the man replied, his tone even and calm. “And just between us, I was not involved in the coup…last time, anyway,” he smiled. The negotiator heard some angry muttering behind him, but this time let it go as he read the demands. The frown on his face deepened as he read the list.

“This is…somewhat over-reaching,” he began.

“Those are the demands,” cut in the Captain. “If you don't concede, then we can just keep going. Tell me, though, how are things in the Allied Kingdoms?” she asked, smiling sweetly. “And how do you think they will be a year from now? Five years? Ten?”

“I would image that though the times may be tough, we will be in tolerable shape for decades to come. And how about your Liberated Kingdoms?” asked the man in turn.

“By ten years, we will be the only kingdom on this continent,” came the sweet reply. The old courtier and diplomat glanced up, judging her expression and the reactions of the two behind her. She was absolutely certain of the outcome, the old soldier was smirking and unless he was mistaken, there was a nasty smile under the hood of the cloak the second woman wore.

“I wonder what Raltaow would have to say to that claim,” he offered.

“You do not speak for Raltaow, so you should not try to put words in their mouth,” warned the Captain. The old man frowned a little, handing the letter to his aid, who took it to the others of his party for them to look over.

“Your own words suggest that you intend to attack them. It would only be right for us to warn them of your intents,” he suggested.

“Do as you will, it will change nothing,” smiled the Captain. “Their ambassador visited earlier and has already taken our offer of alliance to their Queen,” she added.

“Indeed? How fortunate for you. Have you spoken with their Chancellor, the Lady Airi?” asked the man.

“I have not had the honor, though I expect to meet her soon,” smiled the Captain.

“Ah,” was all he said, sliding a rolled-up letter across the table to her. “This is what we are prepared to offer,” he moved on. The woman swiftly opened the sealed letter and read it over before bursting into laughter.

“Surely you jest, offering such trivial terms. You obviously mistake us for idiots or for desperate criminals. If these are truly your terms, then we are done talking,” she said, carelessly tossing the letter behind her, the cloaked woman catching it swiftly, her reflexes cat-like and sure. The negotiator for the Kingdoms saw what he was fairly sure was a scar or slave-brand on her arm as she caught the letter.

“Forgiveness for all crimes, freedom for the ranking figures in the rebellion, assurances of no punishments for those slaves who participated, and amnesty for those who surrender are hardly trivial terms,” began the courtier.

“Trivial, insulting and obviously false,” snorted the Captain. “The so-called `terms' the kingdom offers are soundly, completely and irrevocably rejected in all regards. And for the insult offered by them, we are expanding our demands,” the woman said, grabbing a clean sheet of parchment and dipping a pen in an inkwell. She swiftly began to write on the sheet.

“Perhaps you should consider your position again before you fill that page completely,” suggested the courtier urbanely. “The Kingdoms simply cannot agree to the terms you already presented. Demanding more would only assure complete failure of these negotiations.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” the Captain's pen didn't slow in the least.

“Perhaps we should simply have our lancers run these rebels down here and now,” one of his party suggested loudly.

“Try that, junior, and see what happens,” chuckled the old soldier.

“Even if we lose all the lancers, we would certainly kill one of the five captains of this uprising,” the younger military officer insisted.

“You misunderstand his meaning,” the Captain said, still writing. “If you attempt such a ridiculously stupid thing, none of you - lancer or ambassador - will leave this place alive, while we won't lose more than one or two of our soldiers; and certainly not myself or anyone of importance,” the woman said, finishing up and all but shoving the letter to the man opposite her. “These are our additional demands,” stated the woman.

“You can take your demands and choke on them, whore,” began the same young office, only to stop as his leader raised a hand even as the cloaked woman stood, a sword hilt slipping out from under her cloak. The Captain just gave him an amused smile.

“Enough. We will weigh our options and evaluate your demands. Shall we meet back here in, say, five days?” he asked, rising and tucking the papers away.

“We will see,” was all the Captain said as she stood and led the way out of the tent. The diplomat glanced around for a moment before leading his party out as well. Outside, the infantry were already walking away, and there was no sign at all of the Captain or her two associates. The Allied representatives swiftly climbed into their carriages and returned to the other side of the river, where they met to discuss the demands.

“Well, the negotiations were short,” snorted the young officer.

“On the contrary,” the older lead negotiator disagreed. “I fear this will be a long, arduous negotiation,” he sighed.

“What? They dared to laugh at our terms and even had the audacity to demand terms the kingdoms will never grant. How can you say the negotiations will be long? They are already over, my lord!”

“Hardly, young knight lieutenant,” chuckled the courtier. “In military terms, we have only just arrived at the field of battle. We have not even formed up our armies or even decided if we will commit to battle at this location.”

The young military officer looked totally lost. The noble chuckled, sitting down and studying the hand-written sheet of new demands from the spokeswoman for their opponents. “At the very most, all we have done is seen that there is in fact an army that might oppose us.”

“Politics is truly a game for the old,” complained the young officer.

“Perhaps, but if you do not learn how politics work, my impulsive young friend, you will never make the rank of General you so crave,” warned the older man. “Most intriguing, this new list of demands,” he shared with his staff. “Paper and pen,” he called, his assistant laying out a stack of blank pages and a pen and inkwell. Ignoring the fuming young officer and those with him, the old professional politician began to write out lists and notes, occasionally engaging in quiet talks with his staff. The young military officer stormed out. If nothing else, he could at least write up what he had seen of the enemy's military stance. It wasn't until he was half-done writing it up that he realized he had nothing of any significance to share, and most assuredly nothing new, besides the face that he had finally seen one of the leaders of the Rebellion.

Brightening a little at that, he tossed his first draft into the small fire in his tent before beginning again, focusing on the female captain and the cloaked figure behind her. He began with his impressions of her, filled in missing details with his best guesses and what he had discovered through observation of her. By the time he was done, he was sure he knew everything there was to know about the female Captain, the cloaked figure and even the old soldier. He swiftly reviewed it before hurrying to turn it into the general in charge of the Alliance military intelligence; who just happened to be his second Uncle.

“Rit-chan.”

The younger woman blinked, realizing she had been lost in thought. Focusing on what she had been doing, she found she had been hard at work with her notebook and pencil, making up plans and contingencies. Maps surrounded the notebook, and the candles were mostly burned down. “Sorry, Airi, lost track of time,” she half apologized. “What time is it?” she wondered, feeling hungry.

“It is six bells past noon,” Airi replied, absently stroking Ritsuko's loose hair as she stopped behind the chair the girl sat in. Ritsuko looked out the window. It was snowing again and dark outside. “Hungry?” smiled Airi.

“Yeah, so long as it isn't a banquet again,” she replied, standing and stretching a little. She was wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt under a jacket from their world, warm wool house boots on her feet. The fireplace was burning nicely with a heavy bed of coals, but the desk was nearer the windows, which were not exactly well-insulated.

“Well, there is a banquet, but unless you wish to attend, we needn't,” Airi answered. Ritsuko glanced around. Milliea was just stirring on the bed, pushing back the heavy comforter she had been snuggled under while Rapier and Gabriella were still out.

“You know I hate those things,” Ritsuko grunted in reply.

“Then we will raid the kitchen and either eat here, or in the servant's dining hall,” smiled Airi. It didn't surprise Ritsuko in the least that Airi was hugely popular with the servants, nor did it surprise her that Airi often visited with them. As she had taught her insurgents, servants were often better-informed than their masters. Milliea joined them, hiding a yawn behind a hand.

“When are the others returning?” asked the elf swordswoman.

“Sometime today or tomorrow, if all went well,” Airi replied, catching one of Ritsuko's hands, Milliea catching the other. Ritsuko sighed, but didn't resist as they guided her down the halls to the kitchens, where they secured some basic food before making their way to the servant's dining hall. Entering the simple stone and timber room, they found many of the servants of the palace enjoying themselves, some singing while they drank ale, other gossiping, some gambling. When Airi and the others entered, the room went suddenly silent before a cheer went up.

“Chancellor Airi! Welcome!” called out a jovial steward, hoisting a large mug of ale. Other called greetings as well, most of the servants standing to bow or curtsey to her.

“Oh, please do not bother with that,” Airi replied sweetly, “we are all friends here, are we not?” asked the actress. When she had first come to the palace, she had been among the servants and slaves, after all. Most of these people knew her from that time, before her meteoric rise to the second-most powerful person in the kingdom. “Airi is fine,” she insisted, glancing around for a spot to eat.

“Lady Ritsuko, Milliea, please join us,” called a chamber maid, waving from a table further back and closer to the large fireplace. “The boys are much in their cups,” she added, her tone playfully disdainful.

“Hey, no need to be so unfriendly, Medine,” called back the first man, his group nodding. “Come sit with us, Lady Ritsuko - the company is friendlier,” he smiled.

“You mean cruder and lecherous, don't you?” called back the chamber maid, her group of friends backing her up. Airi smiled, guiding Ritsuko and Milliea to a table between and to the side of the two groups, where a small group of kitchen boys, errand boys and young pages were busy with gambling.

“May we sit here?” Airi asked the young men, who all nodded dumbly at her, obviously as taken with her as Junpei was. Ritsuko rolled her eyes where they couldn't see her before sitting down.

“What's the deal with those two?” Ritsuko asked, as the big man and the chambermaid went back and forth.

“On and off lovers,” Airi murmured back. “Sounds like they will be on again by the end of the night,” she predicted. Rit-chan grunted softly.

“Would you like to play a hand, Lady Airi?” offered a young kitchen worker, his blush seeking to cover his entire head. Airi smiled at him as she reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Let me eat first, and I will think about it, fair enough?” she cooed back, the boy all but melting into a puddle.

“Of course, Mistress Airi!” he squeaked. Rit-chan shook her head a little.

“You shouldn't tease the wildlife like that, Airi,” she said in Japanese. “I think the kid just blew a load in his pants,” she added, a touch of dark rancor in her undertones. Airi hummed, but made no reply. The boy closest to Ritsuko was looking at her, his expression curious and yet cautious. Rit-chan saw this and her expression hardened.

“Rit-chan, please try to be less aggressive,” Airi chided her in Japanese, touching on the younger woman's hands, which had been curling into a fist; one that held a knife in it. Ritsuko's eyes locked with Airi's for a moment.

“Lady Ritsuko, would you care for a game of dice?” he asked her, wetting his lips. Ritsuko turned to look at him for a moment, tempted to punch him in the face, but pushed that away firmly. He doesn't deserve that kind of reaction, she told herself. Instead, she gave him a brief once-over before offering him a small smile.

“Not right now, but maybe later,” she replied.

“Of course, my Lady,” he replied. Ritsuko giggled softly.

“Aren't you a bit young to be so forward?” she teased him back. He gave her a confused expression. Ritsuko waved it away.

“You will understand as you get older,” she soothed him, reaching out to pat his cheek before beginning to eat. The three fell to eating as the singing picked up again. It didn't take long for them to finish their food, and she and Airi ended up playing a few rounds with the boys before moving to where the maids and ladies-in-waiting were gossiping. Settling in, they were swiftly brought up to speed on all the best gossip, though Ritsuko cared little for who was doing what with who or what was going on between various factions in the court and city. Airi, however, seemed to be fully aware of what the gossip meant. Ritsuko found herself recalling how it had been with her group of friends back on their own world, and later with the pilots of NERV.

“Lady Ritsuko, are you ok?” Ritsuko snapped back to the present with a flinch, her hand jerking her sheath knife out of its sheath, where it had been tucked into her waistband even as she knocked the hand that had touched her shoulder away. Her knife hand was seized by Milliea, preventing her from stabbing it toward the maid who had touched her. She was panting a little, eyes wild. Blinking, she realized tears had been slipping down her cheeks.

“I'm fine,” she said, tucking the knife back into the sheath with one hand as her other wiped her face. “It's been a long day and it is a bit smoky in here, that's all,” she said, standing. She was very proud of how calm and even her voice was. “Airi, I'm going to call it a night,” she said, exiting the room calmly, Milliea a half-step behind her.

“I will join you shortly, Rit-chan,” Airi called after her. The maid, a woman a bit older than Ritsuko was absently rubbing her forearm where Ritsuko had knocked it away.

“I meant no offense, Lady Airi,” she said, her tone a little worried, “but she started crying while staring off into space and I only wanted…!”

“I know, and it is fine,” Airi assured her. “Please do not take her reaction personally. She has some…bad memories,” Airi frowned. “She is usually a sweet girl, but lately, that has been less seen than I would like,” she added, standing. “I best go check on her, and then turn in for the night myself. Thank you all for your hospitality, and I wish you all good night,” she said, smiling to the room at large before exiting.

No sooner had she gone than the maids were whispering to each other again. Gossip was gossip after all, and Ritsuko was still very much a new and fresh topic. As they discussed the scene and the possible meanings of every word she and Airi had spoken, they all missed the most obvious thing.

When Airi reached the bedroom she shared with her younger teammate, she found Ritsuko back at the table, pencil in hand, but not getting anything done. Milliea was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Ritsuko. Closing the door, Airi moved over to Ritsuko. “Rit-chan, enough of that for tonight,” she said firmly, taking the pencil out of her hand and closing her notebook. “Let's get some sleep,” she said gently.

“Airi, it wasn't personal,” Ritsuko said, her tone low, “but I have this thing about being touched unexpectedly now…” she grimaced.

“I know,” Airi soothed her. Glancing at Milliea, she saw the elf was turning back the covers and top sheet. “Let's get some sleep,” she repeated, guiding her friend up and swiftly stripping her before easing her naked body into the bed. Her own clothes - a simple dress like many of the staff wore - were quickly discarded and she joined Ritsuko in the bed, hugging the younger woman to her. Milliea pulled the sheet and covers over the two before heading to the room she shared with the other elves, right across the common room from Airi's bedroom in the Chancellor's suite. Spooned to Ritsuko, she felt the girl shift in her arms.

“I'm not crazy, Airi,” she murmured. Not yet anyway, she left unsaid.

“I never said or thought you were, Rit-chan,” Airi murmured back.

“Yes, you did,” Ritsuko disagreed, a ragged giggle coming from her. “I have, so you would have, too,” she half-explained.

Airi hummed softly, gently caressing Ritsuko. “You aren't crazy, but I think you are driving yourself that direction,” she admitted. Ritsuko didn't say anything verbally, but the momentary stilling of her nervous movement spoke volumes to Airi. “I won't lie and say that what you went through - what we went through - will ever go away, but I refuse to let that rule my life, and I hope you will make that choice as well because I really like my Rit-chan the way she was before.”

“Meaning you don't like who I became,” Ritsuko whispered.

“Meaning I don't like who you might become, Rit-chan,” countered Airi, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

The Congress of Kings was in another uproar as the first reports from the negotiation team reached them. It included the original demands and the expanded demands, along with several notes from the head negotiator. Nevertheless, the demands of the Rebellion set more than a few kings into a frenzy. The chairman of the congress nearly broke his gavel trying to get order. Finally, the screaming and yelling and cursing died down, and they got into the meat of the demands. More than a few kings had extra staff with them, most of them scribes and accountants.

“These demands by the rebels are intolerable! We must never agree to them, or the entire Alliance is doomed!” proclaimed one of the three Southern kings.

“Compose yourself,” came the voice of another king, this one an Eastern king. “These demands - even if granted as presented - would not end the Alliance; or even any other kingdom,” argued the monarch. “I grant that it would change the way things are done, but none of these end the current social order.”

“Perhaps not at this time, but if you look at the way things are going, there is a noticeable threat,” a king from the Central kingdoms spoke up.

“See!? I'm right! We cannot negotiate with these rebels! We must dictate to them or crush them with our military might! Only then can the proper order be maintained!” insisted the spokesman for the Southern kings.

“Yes, because crushing them with military might has worked so well to date,” interjected a Western king dryly. “Has anyone else here read the latest report on the military readiness condition?” he asked.

“We are not here to discuss the readiness of the military, we are here to discuss what concessions we might allow the rebels to end this,” the Chairman of the Congress reminded the gathering.

“Which is precisely why I have read all the reports submitted to date,” rejoined the Western king. “It is actually interesting reading - you should all read it before you allow your emotions to make decisions we will all regret.”

Muttering and the sound of parchment being shuffled filled the Congress hall for several minutes. “Now that most of you have finished, I would like to point out that it is very likely that the Rebellion chose these demands to elicit the exact reaction you are suggesting. The wording, the tone and even the way it is written leads me to believe there is more to the ridiculous demands they make than we are meant to see.”

“Now you suggest they are masters of politics,” scoffed an Eastern king. “I remind you that they are slaves,” he stressed.

“Were slaves,” disagreed the Western king. “They are no longer slaves because they have conquered an entire region and we have been unable to dislodge them. By means of that fact, they are no longer slaves.”

“Slaves are simply not of sufficient mental strength to be so intricate,” denied the spokesman for the Southern kings.

“You said that of their military ability, and yet, here we are, going into the second year of a dead-lock after they captured the entire Southern Region in barely six months,” replied the Western king.

“That was because of that damned Amazon sorceress they call `Boss',” insisted the Southern faction. “We finally managed to kill her, and now they are falling apart,” he added smugly.

“I see no evidence of that in any report,” disagreed a Central king from a line long known to be great conquerors. “Our probes are either turned back before making it even a league into their territory, or are decimated within a mile or two of penetrating their front picket line. Our spies report that within the region, the plantations are running smoothly and goods are both available and reasonably priced. They are even dedicating large amounts of labor to projects within the lands. And while we still cannot make sense of most of them, at least some of them are obviously some form of road network, linking key areas to larger cities. Tell me, when was the last time any of us devoted time, labor or money to new roads or civic works?” asked the king.

Grumbling was heard before the Western king spoke up again. “Let me put another item before you all for consideration before you become too entrenched in your stance on this matter: not one of the kings in this room has ever fought more than a skirmish until now. In fact, no king has fought a war of this scale in more than three generations. We are not accustomed to this scale of fighting, and should not presume we know more than the Rebellion, who has been a step ahead of us the entire time. Pride aside, we are sorely lacking in experience even if this were a conventional uprising, but it is far from conventional. The tactics and weaponry alone have left our best generals at a complete loss as to how to predict or counter them. If we maintain our current stance, it is all but inevitable that the Rebellion will win - either through depletion of our military forces, depletion of our treasuries, or even depletion of our will to fight.”

“Our will to fight? We will fight until we are victorious!” yelled the Southern faction leader.

“I suppose you would, but I remind you that your kingdoms no longer exist, and you have no one to lead. The rest of us are facing a unique threat in that support for our military campaign is waning as fewer and fewer subjects support a losing battle and the draining of their economic stability. The merchants have been more and more vocal against the tax levies and reduced safety of trade, the nobles are turning against the campaign due to losses of their vassals, friends and relatives in battles that are one step short of catastrophes and finally, the soldiers themselves are losing heart because they have not won even an inch of land for the loss of their lives. I repeat: we could lose this war if any of our resources are depleted.”

“Then we should simply commit all our forces to one overwhelming attack,” insisted the Southern faction. “Bring all our fighting force to bear on one spot, shatter their lines and take back our kingdoms! Once the people see we have broken their lines, they will side with us, and we will be victorious,” he proclaimed.

“Perhaps, but unlikely,” disagreed an Eastern king. “Military Intelligence reports indicate that there is far less support for the kings than we had thought. In fact, less than twelve percent would support us - and that includes the former nobles.”

“That will change if they see we are liberating them,” insisted the spokesman.

“Your argument hinges on our being able to penetrate their lines,” pointed out the Western king. “The high command of the Alliance military forces committed to the fight is dubious at best that they could accomplish that. What happens if we drive into the lines, then get bogged down? Every fight before this indicates that our forces would be stopped, encircled and then eliminated to the last. That would deplete our military force, leaving no effective fighting force to challenge them when they would invade the Eastern and Central kingdoms over the then-undefended border. In case the meaning of that is not clear, that would be our defeat. If they are as cunning as they have been to date, they will simply invade and absorb the kingdoms one at a time, over years, ending up as the only kingdom on the continent in the end.”

“Even if they do not invade, and our forces are not entirely decimated, that would strip our kingdoms of all means of enforcing law and protecting the subjects. Already there is unrest and violence not seen since the founding of the Alliance of Kingdoms. With only small levy garrisons, social order would disintegrate, and our kingdoms would fall into fiefdoms of robber barons and war lords,” cautioned a Central kingdoms king. “It is even possible that our subjects will beg the Rebellion to invade, just to have peace and security once again if the alternative is to be in constant chaos and violence.”

Angry muttering and swearing came from the three Southern kings, but they made no formal response. “With that in mind, I would like to discuss the demands the Rebellion has made. Who else is ready to discuss them?” asked the Western king calmly. A few other kings began the discussion, and after a half hour, the debate over potential compromise positions was in full swing, though without the participation of the Southern Kings and a couple of Northern and Eastern kings.

“Welcome back, you two,” smiled Ritsuko, hugging Gabs and Rapier as they entered the suite they shared with her and Airi mid-morning of the next day. “How was it?” she asked them.

“It was interesting,” smiled Rapier.

“Yeah, it was kind of fun playing Boss,” agreed Gabriella. “Your captains seem to get the idea you are going for, anyway,” she admitted.

“Good,” Ritsuko replied. “Where is Annette?” she asked.

“She'll be along in a moment,” Rapier said, tossing off her travel cloak and approaching the fire, hands out toward the fire. “It's cold enough down here, but up in the air narwhale, it gets damn frigid,” she half-complained.

“I told you to use a heat spell,” Gabriella said, tossing off her own cloak, leaving her in her fur bikini outfit.

“And I told you, I am better at fighting than at magic,” she replied.

“I would have cast it for you. Or Annette,” grinned Gabriella.

“I know better than to trust you to cast it, and Annette was preoccupied,” rejoined the younger elf.

A moment later, Annette entered the rooms, shedding her own cloak, revealing wool pants and a thick flannel over-shirt under her heavy winter travel cloak. Ritsuko nodded to her as she hung up her cloak before pulling off the over-shirt, leaving her in her normal cotton peasant blouse. “Anything happen while we were running errands?” asked Annette as she settled into a chair.

“Nothing of especial note,” Ritsuko answered.

“Where is Milliea?” wondered the priestess.

“With Airi and the Queen,” Ritsuko replied. “What news from the kingdoms and my rebellion army?” she asked directly.

“The kingdoms are roiling with unrest, violence and destruction,” Annette answered, her tone a bit sour. “For whatever reason, the Temple has been untouched by any of it, as have the few elven enclaves,” she continued, giving Ritsuko a look.

“The elves are not our enemies, in spite of our occasionally stripping you all,” Ritsuko replied, a little smile on her lips. Annette grimaced.

“Not all elves feel that way. Remember Dihal, Romina and Emily from your trial? I found a cure for the Water of Giants three years ago, and cured Dihal, but she seethes at the very mention of Airi's name, while Romina attained the rank of Archbishop of the church last year, and is reported to be trying to stir up support for a religious crusade against your rebellion because she learned Junpei was seen there and the description of `Boss' makes her think of you and finally, Emily has made a name for herself in the last three or four years for advocating a separation of elves and humans. So, no, not all elves are your friends,” Annette sighed.

Ritsuko frowned a little, thinking. “Is this something that could lead to a civil war in the elven population?” she asked.

“Unlikely. This is more like a bad day in our eyes, given our life spans,” Annette said. “The disappearance of your alter-egos has helped a bit, too,” she admitted.

“Yeah, this kind of thing happens every century or two; nothing will come of it unless something goes entirely sideways somewhere and a bunch of our race gets killed by one faction or another,” agreed Gabriella.

“It was more of an issue when Celsia was discovered to be helping you strip us,” smiled Rapier. “I doubt anything lasting will come of it,” she concurred.

“Just so you know, I gave strict orders about elves to my insurgents,” Ritsuko shared, still frowning a little. “They were told not to spread the fighting to the elven ranks, nor to target or harass elves; even if elves interfered with their operations.”

“Ritsuko, that's…unexpectedly nice of you,” Annette blinked.

Ritsuko shrugged. “Don't fall in love with me yet, Annette,” she said, sighing as she leaned back in the chair she was sitting in. “I can't risk losing a spell fragment because an elf got killed, that's all.” Annette twitched, but said nothing.

“That's a fair stance, Ritsuko,” Gabriella spoke up. “Those fragments are your way home, after all.” Ritsuko shrugged, but said nothing, her mind busy.

“In other news,” Annette continued, “I have heard rumors of slaves in other kingdoms planning uprisings of their own, since yours was so wildly successful.”

“More power to them, but I doubt they will succeed,” Ritsuko grunted.

“You might be correct, but then, maybe all they needed was a figure to unite them,” Rapier said.

“I'm no poster child,” Ritsuko nearly spat. “I only did what I did because it had to be done to get free. If they want freedom, they will have to earn it like I did!” This time, the tightness of her jaw and the venom in her voice was clear. “Speaking of, anything on this damn slave rune?” she asked, closing out the topic.

“Nothing specific,” Annette admitted. “I plan to spend the next few weeks studying the stuff Gabriella found in greater detail. Maybe there is something there,” she offered. Ritsuko nodded, her frown having turned into a black scowl.

“Right,” she murmured. Her eyes drifted to the window, where sunlight was punching holes in the grey clouds that were still scattering fine, super-dry snow. Her scowl faded into a thoughtful expression. “Tell me about air fish,” she said unexpectedly, pulling a small notepad from the pocket of her sweatpants and removing the short pencil from the coil that held it together. Annette blinked.

“What about them?” she wondered.

“For starters, what kind of classes or sizes are there and how do you identify them?” asked the red-headed human.

“Uh, well, there are basically three classes of air fish,” began Annette, wondering why the smile slowly spreading over Ritsuko's face worried her so much. “There are personal or small air fish, which are usually Jacks, Tarpon or similar fish. Mostly they are used by rich merchants or minor nobles for recreation or messenger duty. The costs of getting one and keeping it usually mean the average citizen won't be able to afford it, and the others tend to use them sparingly.”

“Does the military use any?” asked Ritsuko, sounding interested.

“Infrequently they use them to ferry generals around in an emergency, or for light scouting,” Annette replied.

“Yeah, we killed a couple,” grunted Ritsuko. “What is the next size or class?” she asked.

“A few people use intermediate air fish for certain roles. Mostly, the Tuna is preferred, for its load and speed, but the use of them is very limited. My temple has two Jacks, one Tuna and the Swordfish, and they are mostly used for religious purposes - going to festivals, performing rites in distant areas, that sort of thing.”

“Noticed you preferred the swordfish,” grinned Ritsuko. Annette blushed a bit.

“It's the fastest, with the highest capacity and looks the most imposing,” she half-defended her choice.

“The last size or class?” Ritsuko let the teasing go.

“Large. Usually whales or dolphins. Very rare, extremely hard to catch and train, expensive to maintain; if you don't have a dedicated magic user group,” she qualified. “Big, strong, relatively quick, but not as easy to land or as nimble as the smaller class.”

“You said only a narwhale could make it over the mountains, and you specified a military narwhale. Why?” asked the human.

“Well, only the military has the manpower and financing to capture a narwhale or larger,” began Annette, “so you never see narwhales in private use. A couple of very large multi-kingdom trading groups have dolphin and one or two beluga air fish, but that's about it.”

“Not that it matters, but those aren't fish; they are mammals,” interjected Ritsuko, “but more to the point, can a dolphin climb over the mountains to reach here?” she asked.

“Perhaps, but they don't have the linger time they would need. They lack the blubber of the whales, which prevents them from getting too cold to move while climbing over the mountains,” she explained. “Also, the narwhales seem to do better in high-wind conditions for whatever reason.”

“What is their ceiling?” asked Ritsuko, making notes.

“Ceiling?” wondered Annette.

“How high can they go?” rephrased the human.

“Higher than any human can go,” Annette shrugged. “No one has ever found out how high they can go,” she admitted.

“How much weight can they carry?” she asked.

Annette frowned, feeling more unease as the interest in Ritsuko's voice. She recalled all too clearly how dangerous the girl could be with a little information. “Most of the small ones only carry two or three people and a bit of luggage before they can't fly. The intermediate ones can carry more, but are almost always rigged for cargo and a pair of crew. The narwhale can carry up to six people and a modest amount of luggage. Why?”

“Just curious,” purred Ritsuko, giving a nasty, dark giggle. “Tell me, are there any other sort of air fish? Maybe some stingray-type?” she prompted.

“Every so often, someone gets a stingray,” shrugged Annette. “There are few of them around, and they are challenging to catch and harder to train.”

“The ancient dark elven lords were rumored to ride air manta,” interjected Gabriella. “But no one in generations has seen one,” she added.

“What is the capacity of a large sting-ray type?” asked Ritsuko.

“Well, they do carry more, but they are harder to land, take longer to climb to altitude, have lower ceilings, and tend to be temperamental,” admitted Annette.

“I see,” murmured Ritsuko, jotting down notes. “Tell me about the crew. What are their roles and how many are necessary to actually fly the fish?” she moved on.

“Well, there is always a pilot,” Annette said slowly. “Typically, there is a second pilot who doubles as a cargo or passenger chief, sometimes a navigator. Most of the small ones just run a pilot, if they are not traveling too far.”

“I see. Can just anyone pilot an air fish?” asked Ritsuko.

“What are you asking?” wondered Annette.

“Does the pilot have to be a magic user, or an elf or anything like that?” asked the red-headed human.

“Well, no, but they do have to take a training course to get a license…” began Annette.

“Yeah, fuck the license,” dismissed Ritsuko, flipping her notebook closed. “Have you eaten? Used the bathroom? Gotten some sleep?” she asked Annette, smiling a downright alarming smile.

“Uh, why do you ask?” Annette asked slowly.

“Because you are going to teach me to pilot an air fish - namely, that air narwhale,” Ritsuko smiled a dark, dangerous smile. Annette laughed weakly. Guess who just got an air force, you primitive screw-heads? she thought wickedly.

“This is highly irregular,” the courtier said, watching the woman before him. He had returned, as promised, five days after the first meeting to the tent where the negotiations were to be held, only to find that one woman and a platoon of soldiers were there. When he asked where the Captain was, he had been told she had been called away on business and wouldn't be able to meet him.

“Be that as it may, she isn't available at this time. She did give me this to give you if you showed,” the woman said, handing him a sealed parchment. Glancing at the seal, he frowned, not recognizing it.

“Is this the seal of the Rebellion?” he asked the woman.

“No idea,” she shrugged. “The Captain uses that seal sometimes, but I don't know if it is a personal seal or something else.”

Opening the sealed parchment, he read it over. “Do you know what is in this parchment?” he asked the woman.

“Of course not,” she snorted. “Why do you think it was sealed?” she asked as if he were an idiot.

“I see,” he said, mind busy with calculation. For them to use a servant to deliver a sealed letter tells me that they are deliberately throwing off the meeting schedule. Are they delaying to buy time for some military matter or are they not united and have to keep reaching agreements between the factions? he wondered. “Will a representative of the Rebellion be arriving today?” he asked the woman.

“No idea,” she answered, looking him in the eye. The old courtier heard muttering in his retinue and flicked a hand, silencing them.

“Then we will wait inside until evening,” he said, entering the tent. His team followed him. They took their seats and waited. Almost an hour later, the woman entered, carrying a large waterskin and some simple tin cups. Over one arm was another sack filled with jerky. Settling into the seat the Rebellion representative used, she set out the food and drink.

“I'm having lunch, if you care to join me,” she said off-handed, working on a strip of jerky. After a moment of thought, the courtier nodded, moving over to take a strip of jerky and a cup of water. Settling back into his seat, he began to chew on the jerky, finding it to be venison with fairly aggressive seasoning.

“Venison,” he said casually, pausing to sip some water. “I haven't had this since I was in the military as a young man,” he continued idly. “The seasoning is like some of the dishes favored in the Marsh Kingdom. Is that your original kingdom?” he asked the woman.

“Hardly,” she snorted. “I just like things spicy,” she replied, her tone a bit teasing. The older man inclined his head.

“Spice has its place,” he agreed. “Are they all venison?” he asked, indicating the sack of jerky strips.

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” shrugged the woman. “I just grabbed whatever was handy this morning.” The courtier filed that away as he finished his first jerky strip.

“Let's see what was available this morning, shall we?” he asked with an easy smile, moving to the sack and rummaging in it a bit. “Venison, venison, beef, venison, some sort of bird, if I am not mistaken, pork, goat or lamb, beef, and…hmm, I am unfamiliar with this meat,” he hummed, taking a beef strip and refilling his water cup.

The woman glanced at the bit of jerky. “Alligator,” she identified it indifferently.

Returning to his seat, he settled in and bit into the jerky before making a face. “Vinegar and sugar,” he identified the curing mix. The woman smirked, chewing a mouthful of jerky.

“Slave food,” muttered the young knight lieutenant. The woman's eyes flickered to him before moving back to the courtier. The older man was sipping his water. Setting the jerky down, the old man moved back over to the woman, digging in the sack for a moment before taking another strip and another cup. He walked right up to the knight lieutenant, handing him the water and jerky.

“Eat it. Every last bite,” ordered the courtier, staring the young officer in the eyes. After a moment, the man took the jerky and the water, biting into the jerky and chewing. After a moment of staring at him, the older man returned to where his own jerky and water were waiting, picking up the tough, leathery meat and biting into it. Behind him, the officer's face was turning red and he was coughing as he chewed on the cured meat.

“This is quite good jerky,” he said as he finished up the vinegar and sugar strip. “Who makes this?” he asked.

“No idea,” she said. “I picked it up at the office. But I know that a lot of the plantations have their own unique recipes for jerky. I'd say the staff that made these are from many different plantations, based on the meats and seasoning,” she shared.

“Though I might be a courtier, I do dabble in the arts of the kitchen,” the older man shared. She gave him a look.

“Indeed? What would you say your best dish is?” she asked, picking up another piece without looking and biting into it.

“I must admit to being at best indifferent with breads, and only average with vegetables and meats, but with soups, I can honestly say I am quite skilled,” he smiled. The woman gave him a look, obviously assessing the likelihood of the claim. “My best soup is made right at first frost, of pan-seared beef bits in a vegetable base and beans. I start with a soup base of water with onion, chicken bones and garlic. Once the base has established itself, I begin to add the ingredients, starting with the carrots, potatoes, red beans and spices…”

The conversation about soup was interrupted by the sound of hooves. Cocking his ear, the old courtier determined it was a small group of riders, no more than a half dozen, approaching from the Rebellion side. A moment later, the riders drew up outside the tent and the sound of people dismounting preceded the old soldier and a different woman entering the tent.

“Ah, at last,” smiled the courtier, recognizing the old soldier. The woman who had greeted him got up from the chair, pushing the jerky and water aside as the other woman made her way to the chair.

“Just keeping them entertained, Captain,” she said to the woman. The courtier frowned a little. This woman - who had just been addressed as Captain - was not the woman from the first meeting. The old soldier took his spot in a chair behind the Captain, the first woman joining him there.

“Excuse me, but might I have your name and position in the Rebellion?” the courtier asked.

“I am a Captain, one of five, and I speak with Boss's voice. This should be sufficient for now,” the woman said, sounding distracted and irritated. “You received the letter, yes?” she asked. Her accent placed her as a Marsh Kingdom native.

“Yes, I was given it upon my arrival,” the man confirmed.

“Good, then if there are no further questions, we can call this meeting done,” she said, pulling out a folded stack of parchment and beginning to review whatever was written there. The courtier blinked.

“There are many questions about the contents of the letter. I presume you are familiar with it?” he prompted.

“More or less,” shrugged the woman, taking a charcoal pencil and making some marks on one of the parchments. “What is your question?” she asked directly before turning to the old soldier. “You are sure that the work is on schedule?” she asked, showing him a page.

“On schedule, Captain,” he nodded. She hummed, tapping her chin.

“Pull another team off the neighboring project. I want the current phase completed within the week,” she directed. He nodded. “Well? What is the question?” she repeated herself to the courtier. “I am a busy woman and have little patience for this,” warned the woman.

“You have not asked if we have considered your demands,” he noted, eyes sharp.

“Why would I ask that? Our demands are set. Your accepting them or not is immaterial,” she replied, eyes back on the parchments.

“Well, I do have a counter-offer from the Alliance,” the man said, handing her a sealed letter. The woman tossed it to the old soldier unopened. The man opened it, scanning it briefly before snorting.

“You have not learned anything, I see,” he said, wadding up the paper into a ball before throwing it back to the courtier.

“What did it say?” asked the woman, busy with her charcoal pencil again.

“More of the same,” the man replied. The woman sighed, folding up the parchments and tucking them away before looking at the courtier.

“Look, you are wasting our time with this ridiculous stuff,” she said flatly. “If you aren't going to be serious about this, then there is no reason for us to be serious. When you are ready to be serious, have one of your men - and I mean one - ride unarmed and without armor under flag of truce to the capital of the Southern Kingdoms. Have them present themselves to the Captains and they will be told when and where we will resume negotiations. Good day,” she said, standing and striding out of the tent, the other three behind them. Almost immediately, the sounds of horses cantering off was heard, as well as the sound of infantry marching off. The water and jerky was left behind.

“Interesting,” murmured the courtier, rising and moving toward his carriage. By the time that they were riding away, they couldn't see a single Rebellion member anywhere. Two carriages back, the Knight Lieutenant was stripping off his dress tunic, revealing a simple, unmarked one under it. Pulling a straight sword from under the seat of the carriage, he buckled it on his hips before pulling out a simple hat and donning that. While the carriage was still moving, he opened the door and swung out onto the mounting step. Looking behind him, he saw one of the Royal Lancers nod before carefully moving over to ride double with his fellow Lancer. The young officer negotiated to the back of the carriage before gauging the distance and jumping to the back of the horse, catching the reins as he settled into the seat.

Moments later, the carriages swept past a small turn-off onto a farm road. As he came abreast of it, the officer steered his horse onto the road, and he was swiftly out of sight. Feeling the saddle bags, he felt the food and water he had arranged to have put there. He also found the cloak and the small pouch of coins with the names of his first few contacts tucked into it. “Ok, `Boss', let's see which of us is truly better,” he muttered, pulling out a map as the horse cantered easily along the track. While he didn't see anyone, he failed to look up into the tree tops.

Overall, it wasn't too shabby. Compared to what she was used to, it was a World War I level air arm, but still better than nothing. Ritsuko hummed to herself as she tinkered with various ideas of how to arm her new air force. Ideally, of course, she would want some way of dropping ordnance on the enemy from above - like a crate or two of manual-arm mortar rounds or even actual bombs. Failing that, however, she would have to come up with a way to use what she had or could scavenge.

Obviously, she could still use a rifle, and that wasn't half bad as a basic weapon. The problem was that it didn't make effective use of what the air fish gave her. She needed area weapons and delivery systems to make it the equivalent of an actual strike fighter or close air support aircraft. She also needed a couple of smaller air fish for scouting, if she could come up with them. Of course, that meant air crew as well. Ritsuko was fairly sure she could source that without too much trouble.

Which is why she was tinkering with weapons systems. For the time being, she had decided that the most practical first-gen system would be fire-based, as she could make a number of thickened fuel mixes that could be ignited by simple fuse or by firing a flare into it or dropping it on an already-lit ignition source. Beyond that, however, she wanted explosives. She had thought about black powder bombs, but the fusing problem made her hesitant to try them. A short fuse or unexpected ignition was a game-ender, so she left those off the option group. The young woman had been working with the Queen's alchemists to produce some simple chemical components, and it irritated her no end to have to deal with their half-baked chemistry and tendency to think everything was magical. But, they were producing batches of useful chemicals now that she had gotten them started and walked them through the steps a few times.

The royal armorer was working to craft the appropriate leather goods she would need to organize the munitions and secure herself to the air narwhale. She had discovered they were more maneuverable then she had hoped, but to make use of that, she would need a harness and `saddle' as it were that would help secure her. If she was going to have that, she saw no reason not to place munitions pouches on it as well.

Well, I can at least start with firebombing them, and maybe soon I can get a fusing system to allow me to drop explosives on them. Hmm. Might be good to be able to deliver actual ordnance to deal with those stone bridges, too, Ritsuko thought to herself, leaning back from her desk, where pages of notebook paper were filled in with sketches, notes, ideas and work-up steps. Right now, I am limited on my bombing altitude by the lack of a corrected bombing sight and fusing method, but I am sure I can work something out. The limited payload of the air fish is a problem, too, as I can't just count on area effect bombardment, she mused, jotting down another note before reaching for her water.

“There you are, Rit-chan,” Airi's voice interrupted her. Ritsuko turned to see Airi entering the room, dressed in her court finest as Chancellor of Raltaow. The Queen walked behind the Chancellor, also in her royal gown. Ritsuko once more was amazed how much skin a proper gown showed off. I swear I can see her nipples when she leans forward and if she sits normally, I could see her underpants, the red-head thought.

“Airi, my Queen,” she greeted the two. She had been more or less confined to the apartments of the Chancellor for the last few days, working on her ideas. “I assume the audience is over?” she asked.

“Yes, thankfully,” Airi replied. “It is customary for the nobles and prominent merchants to have an audience with the Queen and myself after the new year to discuss important matters regarding trade, taxes and titles, but I admit I find it tedious.”

“Which is why you couldn't convince me to go,” muttered Ritsuko, shutting her notebook.

“I am pretty sure that your new air force is why I have hardly been able to get you to leave our rooms or to eat and sleep properly,” came the dry reply from the Chancellor, who was changing out of her court dress. Ritsuko sighed, draining her water before standing.

“I go out of the rooms,” she replied, stretching a little.

“Yes, to eat, get more water, torment the alchemists, browbeat the armorer and bathe. Other than that? No so much,” Airi disagreed calmly. “And you haven't been sleeping well lately, either,” she chided in Japanese. Ritsuko sighed.

“I'm ok, Airi,” she insisted.

“No, you aren't. You need to sleep more and get more fresh air,” argued the older woman. The younger woman dragged her hands over her face. “Where are the others? I haven't seen them much lately,” Airi went on conversationally as she dressed in warm clothes.

“Annette and Gabriella have been holed up in their room, pouring over those ancient elven texts or whatever, and Rapier and Milliea have been taking turns spying on me,” Ritsuko answered sourly. It seemed she could never leave the rooms without one or the other appearing to `go with' her. “Your doing, I assume,” she added pointedly.

“You would assume wrong, then, Rit-chan. They care about you as much as I do; maybe more,” suggested Airi. “Anyway, how about you take me for a ride on your new toy?” smiled Airi. Ritsuko managed a smile.

“Sure, Airi,” she agreed. “Let me just hit the bathroom and change,” she said, moving toward the door. Twenty minutes later, Ritsuko and Airi climbed aboard the air narwhale and lifted off. To her surprise, Airi asked Ritsuko to head due south. Mentally shrugging, Ritsuko did as asked, not really caring where they went. She glanced over at the sun's position and figured they had a good two hours before they had to turn back to Raltaow.

“My Lord, news from the kingdom,” a page said, handing his king a sealed note. The king broke the seal, scanning the note.

“What news?” asked another of his Northern Kingdoms rulers.

“Slave uprising in the mines,” grunted the king. His was a smaller kingdom, founded on mining for precious metals and base metals in high use: gold, silver, iron, copper, tin and lead. With the forces committed to containing the rebellion in the south, his kingdom's military and policing force were barely more than a skeleton force. He stood, pounding the wood block in front of his chair with the wooden mallet. “My fellow kings, I have just been informed of a rebellion of the slaves in my kingdom,” he announced. “My Seneschal has informed me the rebellion is contained and will collapse once the food runs out, but I am not of a mind to count on that, given the situation in the South. I am forced to recall both companies I have sent to the South until such time as the rebellion in my kingdom is crushed,” he announced before sitting down and beginning to write on a piece of parchment.

This news set off murmuring and muttering throughout the congress. The chairman banged his own gavel. “Order,” he called, stifling the brewing arguments. “With the withdrawal of your two companies, where does that leave us, in terms of military strength and the ability to seal the border?”

The military liaison looked up from his various papers. “I am looking at that right now, your majesty,” he replied before turning his attention back to the papers. A moment later, he nodded to himself. “It would appear, given where the two companies were stationed, that our barricade of the border will be unaffected in a practical sense, but overall, our ability to scout, raid and defend against attack has dropped somewhat.”

“Will this be a problem?” asked the chairman. The military liaison hummed, considering the situation.

“As the Rebellion has shown absolutely no inclination to cross the border, I would say not in terms of defending the border, but it will have noticeable effects on our ability to shift troops to allow units to stand down and rest as well as being a net loss of fighting ability,” he pronounced, nodding to himself.

“Of more immediate threat is that those criminals have begun to inspire the rest of the slaves to rebel against their masters,” came the acrimonious voice of the spokesman of the Southern Kingdoms. “How much more proof would you need to see that only by utterly destroying the rebelling slaves will we save our way of life and our kingdoms?!” he demanded, sounding exasperated.

“The rebellion in my kingdom will not succeed,” interjected the king as he finished up writing his note. “These sorts of things happen every few decades, and they always fail. Also, the Rebellion had a charismatic, powerful leader with great magical ability to lead them. The rebels in my kingdom do not.”

“I would not be so sure,” disagreed a king from the Eastern kingdoms. “Our ambassador has reported sighting a figure he believes could be this mysterious `Boss' during the negotiations, and in spite of what the military might claim,” he paused to give the liaison a hard look, “there has been no proof whatsoever of the death of this `Boss'. For all we know, she has simply slipped away to start another fight in another area,” he suggested.

“And how would she move about the kingdoms, exactly? I am sure we have all been watching for a red-headed Amazon mage, but they are in short supply,” came the acidic retort from a Northern Kingdoms ruler.

“How, indeed?” replied the Eastern king calmly. “I suspect our description of her is far from accurate, and moreover she is likely to be fairly inconspicuous. Chancellor Airi hinted at such a possibility when she spoke with my court,” he added.

“Ah, well, if the great Chancellor Airi of Raltaow hinted at it, it simply must be true!” scoffed a Central Kingdoms ruler. “The Coward of the Mountain Kingdom and her vaunted wisdom,” he added.

“Coward?” wondered the chairman. “How so?”

“She has committed no troops, has refused to join in our cause and is even avoiding all trade with restless kingdoms! What else is there to call her and her Queen?” accused the king who had first spoken.

“Careful and prudent spring to mind,” came the interjection from a Western Kingdoms ruler, who didn't even look up from the papers in front of him. “A good merchant and ruler of sober judgement and temper also would apply from my perspective,” he added.

“Of course you would defend her,” grunted the Southern Kingdoms spokesman.

“I only speak what I see of her actions and judgement,” countered the King who had been more interested in the economic costs of the war than the fighting of the war itself. “Have you all read the latest report from our ambassador?” he asked, glancing up.

Several grumbling voices were heard, but the topic returned to what it had been before the message arrived. As the debate swung back and forth about the demands and the proposed counter offers, a messenger slipped up to the senior-most king of the Southern Kingdoms, handing the man a sealed letter. Curious, the man broke the seal and read the brief note. Pursing his lips, he considered his options before tucking the letter away and banging his gavel, using the chance to suggest they take a break to eat and collect their thoughts; a proposal that swiftly gained support from most of the kings.

Exiting the Congress of Kings, he guided his two fellow rules away from the hall before showing them the letter. Reading it over, the other two smiled. “Finally,” muttered one of them. “Some good news.”

“Indeed, but how are we to use this?” asked the third. “We have no armies of our own since the rebellion, our treasuries were lost, and we are without much friendship here,” complained the man.

“But we do have friends, and we have some other resources,” the spokesman replied. “If this letter is to be believed, we might yet be able to tip the balance in the Congress to commit to crushing this damned uprising.”

“So how do we begin the recovery of our kingdoms?” asked the second senior-most.

“We begin by identifying those sympathetic to us and bringing them into our confidences,” stated the man. “We will also have to build up a private war chest to finance things until the balance tips.”

“You mean…sell what little we have left?” gaped the youngest of them.

“I would sell my soul to regain my throne,” hissed the oldest. “And remember, we are the only three that survived, so we will absorb the territory of the other six, thereby gaining greater wealth and power in the Congress. Consider it a small investment in the future,” he suggested, smiling darkly. “Once my throne is restored, I will make examples of every last slave who dared revolt and those who supported the rebellion so that no one will ever dare think of trying this again,” he vowed.

The knight lieutenant sat back, watching the tavern over the rim of his tankard of ale. He had arrived in the southern port the evening before, and had managed to find a loyalist contact that morning that was even now setting up a meeting with more loyalists. For the time being, he was busy scouting the area.

The tavern was busy, with a boisterous crowd of people eating and drinking after a long day. There were the usual laborers and longshoremen, but there were also merchants and even some who he suspected used to be nobles or senior vassals of the nobility. The ale flowed, and the smell of seafood and meats permeated the air. His eyes picked out a few whores working the room, but not as many as he had expected.

With almost every seat taken, he was not overly surprised when a woman in a short smock approached his table, it being one of the few with an open seat. “Excuse me, is this seat available?” she asked with a smile. Her hands held a tankard of drink and a tin plate piled high with food. His eyes swept over her. Dark brown hair was carelessly braided to her mid-back, her skin was tanned and her arms and legs showed the signs of physical work. Still, while no noblewoman, she was pretty enough and seemed interested in him.

“Sure,” he replied, making a hand gesture. She sat down, setting her plate before taking a large pull from her tankard.

“Ah! Nothing better than a good meal and good drink after a day's work,” she said cheerfully before digging in. The man hummed, watching as she all but devoured a leg of chicken. Her smock couldn't conceal the size of her breasts, nor could it hide her large, hard nipples. Finishing her tankard, she turned in her seat, yelling and waving her empty tankard at the barkeep, who nodded. Glancing down, he blinked, realizing the short tunic had bunched up as she turned, and with one leg cocked to the side, he could see the dark curls between her thighs. Turning back, she started on the vegetables on her plate.

“I'm new to this town,” he began, his tone friendly and smooth, “what is your trade?” he asked.

“Fishing!” came the cheerful reply. “My family has been fishermen and women for generations here,” she bragged.

“I see,” he nodded. “I would think that with the situation being what it is, you are finding the times to be hard,” he fished a bit on his own.

She frowned. “Why would we find the times tough? Demand for fish is up, the price of fish is up and we have lots of new trade goods in the markets.”

“Well, with the rebellion and the blockade, I would think things are tough. What of your taxes?” he asked.

“Taxes are actually lower now than when the nobles were in charge,” she shared, nodding as a barmaid poured her another cup of ale. The officer spotted a slave brand on the barmaid's arm. “Thanks, Remorina,” sang the fisherwoman. “And we have new roads and better sewers and cleaner fresh water sources now, too,” she added before taking a pull from the tankard. “And then there is the influx of new men, too,” she giggled, eyeing the young noble.

Several hours later, the officer eased out of the bed of the fisherwoman. He was tired and sore, but satisfied as he dressed, ignoring the softly-snoring nude woman. Easing out of her room and then out of the house she shared with her family, he hurried toward the meeting place, eager to network with more loyalists.

No sooner had the door closed than the woman opened her eyes and sat up, tugging on her smock even as she slipped out the back of the house. At the corner of the street, a figure was waiting. Without a word, the two hurried off, arriving some few minutes later in a room with several people already there. “His signet impression,” the woman said, producing a small wax block with an impression on it. Another of the group took the wax, studying it carefully.

“I can make a ring from this,” he pronounced a moment later, nodding.

“Do it,” commanded a woman in the corner of the room, paper spread out before her. “I need two of you to shadow the former magistrate when he leaves their meeting, and be sure to memorize the face of everyone he speaks to,” commanded the woman.

“Right,” grunted a pair of young men before slipping out of the room.

“Does he suspect anything?” asked the woman of the fisherwoman. The tanned woman shook her head.

“Do they ever suspect anything with a naked woman in front of them?” she snickered evilly, getting giggles from most of the women in the room.

“Certainly not when you're sucking on their cock,” tittered another of the women in the room.

“Or riding them like a cavalier,” added another.

“How was he in bed?” asked a third, sounding curious. The fisherwoman shrugged.

“Not bad, but I've had better,” she dismissed his bedroom skills.

“Enough gossiping, girls,” the woman said. “Go back home and see if he comes to call on you again,” she directed the tanned boat woman, who nodded before exiting. “Saveness, you are up next. Tomorrow evening, we will tell you where he ends up if he doesn't go back to Rocheline. Get close to him and see what you can get out of him,” ordered the woman.

“Oh, I'll get everything he has out of him,” bragged the woman.

“I am sure you will,” came the dry reply, “just remember to get what we need before he falls asleep.”

“Sure,” came the confident reply. “I'm the most skilled woman in the Southern Kingdoms, after all,” she nearly sang.

“I am not sure I would be bragging about that, but I will give you that you set up two of the kings perfectly for Boss,” admitted the leader.

“You will tell Boss how helpful I have been, right?” pressed the woman.

“No, but I will tell my Captain, and if she agrees, she might tell Boss how useful you have been,” came the distracted reply. “We need more people. You, take a horse and ride to the camp on the coast. Pull five workers from the project there, bring them back here, and have them take the place of five of our team so they can help us out with this. If there are any with trade skills, they are preferred. If not, we want five who can blend in with the patrons of taverns or coffee shops either one. You understand, right?” she directed. A middle-aged man with hair starting to grey nodded before slipping out the door.

“And me?” asked another woman.

“You are to keep an eye on him from a distance. If he happens to head toward any of the restricted areas, make sure he gets distracted, but if not, don't approach him. If he approaches you, you can do as you think best, but we might need you later, so if you can avoid him without losing him, that would be best,” directed the leader of their group. The woman nodded, heading out.

“Master?” asked a young man who was one of the last three in the room.

“Don't call me that,” the woman said, busy with paper and pen. “What is it?” she asked.

“Do you really know Boss?” he asked her.

“Personally? No,” came the answer. “I was a slave on the third plantation she liberated, though, and I did meet her a few times; even slept with her twice,” the woman said. The young man gasped. “Not like that, you pervert,” came the dry reply. “I don't think she has slept with anyone like you thought we did,” added the woman.

“What is she like? Is she as pretty as they say?” he almost begged. The woman looked up from her papers, seeing that he was yet another love-struck young man when it came to Boss.

“Pretty? Yeah, I suppose so, though I don't go for women,” the woman answered him, smiling a little as she ruffled his hair. The mid-teens young man protested ineffectively. “She has a presence that is hard to explain, and I guess it would only be honest to say she is attractive in many ways. As for what she is like, the best I can say is that she is driven. Her eyes practically burn with conviction when she is planning a battle, and she has a side of her that is brutality wrapped in silk. The first word that springs to my mind to describe her is actually `dangerous', kid,” the older woman said.

“But Boss freed us - you!” he protested.

“Yes, and I am eternally grateful to her for that. But that doesn't have anything to do with her being dangerous. Something about her just makes me uncomfortable. For a while, I was a team leader; back before she switched to the Lieutenant/Captain setup. Every time I was near her, I would get chills down my back or my hair would stand up on end when she spoke. You don't even want to know what it was like to have her glare at you, kid,” she snorted. “Boss is likely the most dangerous woman I have ever met; and if she isn't, I don't want to meet whoever is! I was actually relieved when she assigned me to the Captain and I could report to her instead of Boss.”

“But…!” protested the young man. The woman snickered at him.

“Oh, I'm sure you have jerked off to thoughts of her, kid,” purred the woman. “And I won't say you are even remotely alone in that - boys and girls both! But the point is that Boss is fucking scary. If you ever meet her in person, you will understand,” promised the woman before pausing as she frowned. “Well, maybe not. Boys like you tend to think with their dicks, and she is pretty, so you might not have the brains to be scared. Or you might like being bullied by women,” she smirked, stepping closer to him. “Well? You want me to bully you a bit?” she asked, reaching out and fondling his groin. She wasn't surprised to find he was already mostly hard.

“M…master,” he whined. She squeezed him a little harder.

“Don't ever call me that,” she warned him before releasing him. “Get out of here,” she said. “You will get new orders sometime tomorrow. I have to get this report to the Captain,” she sighed, shooing him out of the room and closing the door behind herself.

Ritsuko guided the air narwhale down toward the dark field below them, only dimly lit by the waning crescent moon and the stars. Easing in delicately, she let the narwhale settle into rest before she slipped off the back of the air fish. Four figures followed her. Ritsuko scanned the area with her night vision goggles before turning to the other four. “You know where to go, right?” she asked. The four nodded. “Well, get going. And good luck,” she whispered, helping them pull off four trunks. With barely a backward look, Ritsuko climbed back onto the air narwhale and the animal silently lifted off.

The four watched the dark form vanish before shouldering the modest-sized trunks and making for the road that ran along the side of the road, which would lead them to the town, and the palace where they would make their court appearance as Southern Kingdom nobility who had been forced into exile by the rebellion and had fallen onto hard times. “Where do you suppose she is off to?” asked the youngest of the group.

“Better off not thinking about it,” warned the oldest member. The group was portraying an extended family, consisting of a noble and his wife with their two daughters. There had, in fact, been a noble family of that configuration that had been prominent in one of the Southern Kingdoms. Unfortunately, they had crossed Boss and died in the revolution as a result. Some digging had revealed that they were one of the few without direct blood ties to nobility in the other kingdoms. There were some distant relatives, but none that had visited the family in at least a generation, so the odds of finding a relative that could trip them up was slim.

“I suppose,” agreed the youngest of the group. She was older than the enigmatic Boss, but that counted for less than nothing. Boss was Boss and that was the end of that discussion. Even the oldest of the group deferred to her; and with good reason. “What do you think we can find out for her?” she wondered.

“Hopefully something useful,” the oldest of the women said. They were targeting a court that would eventually let them naturally move into the Capital - the very heart of the enemy. Their prep work had been done by another team, but they didn't know if the team was still there or not; or even which team. Their Boss was very tight-lipped about that kind of thing.

While her next-to-last team of insurgents were embedding themselves, Ritsuko was guiding the air narwhale toward her next stop. Even if the passes are impassable, this lets me be where I need to be, she thought grimly, yet happily. She wanted to check in with her main teams before heading back to Raltaow to await the thaw and the inevitable return of Mike to the Kingdoms. Two days before, she had dropped off Gabriella and Rapier in the Western Kingdoms for a recon run. She had dropped Annette in the Eastern Kingdoms for a recon run there. They would be retrieved at the end of the next week; or sooner if they needed it.

Which left Ritsuko free to check up with her teams in the Central Kingdoms and the Northern Kingdoms. Airi was preparing things in Raltaow for spring, but there was much to be done before then. Ritsuko tried not to think too much about the solo trip she and Airi took south of Raltaow, past the mountains and to the thin strip of land leading south. Too much to think about, too much to process, Ritsuko thought, fingers absently touching her lips. She had never thought Airi would go that far, but she had. Shaking those thoughts aside, she started looking for a spot to conceal the air narwhale. Milliea would keep an eye on it for her while she checked with her agents.

“You are still at it?” blinked the Captain, seeing the courtier patiently waiting for her when she arrived at the council room of what had been the palace of the king of the largest Southern Kingdom before he was executed by the Rebellion. It was now the administrative core of the Rebellion. The courtier inclined his head.

“And it is good to see you again, finally, Captain,” he greeted her. The Captain dropped into the chair opposite him. Glancing to the side, he saw that she had the old soldier with her and a cloaked woman, though he doubted it was their `Boss', as the hair was a bright, pale blonde braid that escaped the hood and rested over a note-worthy breast. “Are we ready to talk terms?” he asked her.

“You were given our terms,” was all the Captain said. “Am I to take it that your presence here is proof that the Congress came to their senses and agreed to all our demands?” she asked, smiling sweetly at him.

“Sadly, no,” he replied easily. “We do have a new offer for you, however. I think you might find it quite interesting,” he said, offering her a sealed letter. She snapped the seal and scanned the letter.

“Better, but you still resist accepting all of our demands,” the Captain replied.

“Some of your demands are simply impossible to deliver on,” argued the courtier. “These latest concessions are as close as we can get to agreeing on the principals of the demands. Surely you understand that.”

“I understand that your inability to accept our demands is a personal problem for you and the Allied Kingdoms,” came the easy, sugary reply. “The bit about reparations wasn't a bad try, but still not enough,” she added.

The courtier sighed, leaning back. “Is there truly no negotiating with you all?” he asked. She gave him a smile.

“Depends,” she replied. “We are not the ones hurting from this fight. Tell me, how are the kingdoms?” she asked. “Are the people happy? Safe? Full of optimism? How is trade going?”

“I have not the slightest doubt you know full well how the Kingdoms fare,” he managed a bored tone. The Captain laughed easily.

“I have been remarkably busy these last few months,” she offered. “Tell you what, though,” she added, pulling a blank piece of paper to her and dipping her pen in an ink well. “Let's start over with demands,” she offered, writing out a list of things. Once she was done, she slid the three pieces of parchment to him.

“And these are?” he asked, recognizing a lot of what was on the papers.

“Our new demands,” she repeated herself. “Give us that, and we have peace today,” she offered, leaning back a bit. The old man scanned the list.

“Well, certainly we can agree to most of this,” he mused, considering the problem demands. “It is reassuring to see you have dropped most of the ridiculous demands,” he shared.

“Careful, nobleman,” purred the Captain, “it is easy to start adding again,” she warned him.

“Yes, I am familiar with that tendency of yours,” he replied blandly. “Are you still certain yours will be the only kingdom on this continent within ten years?” he asked as he perused the list, his own pen making marks.

“Absolutely,” came the immediate reply. The old man silently sighed. Finally, he slid the papers back to her.

“We can agree to the list of demands right now if you abandon the marked out items,” he offered. The Captain scanned the list.

“Tempting, but no,” the woman said, plucking a pen and selecting a new sheet of paper. She began to write. The old man got comfortable. Now that he had finally gotten them to at least pretend to compromise, he was not going to leave of his own free will until an armistice was in hand.

Ritsuko was gazing out the windows of the apartment in the palace in the capital of Raltaow. The snow falling now was large, wet flakes. Spring was coming, though it could be another month or two before the passes were clear enough to travel for anyone but Mike. She had just gotten back from retrieving her scouting teams, and they had had a lot to say.

First and foremost was the news that the Congress was actually considering an agreement with the Rebellion. The next biggest thing was that one of her teams had not been found in the Eastern Kingdoms. Ritsuko herself had found out that half of her team in the Northern Kingdoms was dead. The details were a bit fuzzy, but it appeared that during the launch of the rebellion up there, two of the team had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. One was killed in an attack, the other one killed herself to keep her secrets.

Airi slipped up to her, touching her arm. Flinching, Ritsuko turned to look at Airi. “You ok?” she asked.

“Yeah,” came the quiet reply. “I knew there would be causalities,” she added grimly. “But the Southern Kings disappearing bothers me more.”

“Are you sure?” pressed Airi, hugging Ritsuko. “I think you are more worried about your missing agents,” she hinted. “I get the feeling you were caught off guard that one of them killed herself to keep your secrets,” she suggested.

“It's why I asked for volunteers,” Ritsuko said, looking away.

“Is that a fact?” Airi asked, tightening her hug. Ritsuko sighed. “I think you asked for volunteers because you wouldn't make any of them do something you wouldn't do yourself.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Ritsuko.

“Is it?” was all Airi said, pressing a brief kiss to Ritsuko's cheek. “I think I know you better than you know yourself sometimes,” she added. Unwillingly, Rit-chan smiled a little.

“It's possible, I guess,” she murmured before sighing softly.

“The Queen is waiting you, if you are prepared,” Airi said softly a few minutes later. Ritsuko rose.

“Yeah, guess I'm ready,” she said, making for the door. Airi cleared her throat. Ritsuko stopped, glancing back at Airi, who pointedly looked her up and down. Glancing down, Ritsuko grunted before moving over to the wardrobe and finding a simple, warm dress. Airi coughed deliberately. “You know I hate those damn gowns,” snarled Ritsuko even as she took one of the least ornate gowns.

“She is the Queen, and certain decorum is expected by those around her,” Airi reminded her younger teammate.

“I got their damn expectations right here,” muttered the girl, swiftly strapping a pistol and some spare mags to her thighs along with a knife on her upper arm before wiggling into the dress with Airi's help, the Chancellor tightening up the corset-like body for her. “Easy with the damn corset,” complained Ritsuko. “Where are Persephone and Hecate anyway?” she wondered.

“Taking care of some things for me,” Airi explained as Ritsuko stepped into her comfortable boots and laced them up. The gown would cover them for the most part, not being a court gown. As she did, she noticed how the gown's neckline acted like a push-up bra for her mostly-exposed breasts. She snickered to herself. If I had a camera, this would be a good photo for my friends, she thought briefly. Come to think of it, don't we have a camera in our stuff? she wondered. There is one on my phone, she mused.

“Airi, remind me to find that camera we have on Mike. Next time we are all in court gowns, I want a picture of us,” she said, smiling.

“Sure,” Airi agreed easily. She's slowly returning to how she was before, Airi cheered silently. That gamble was dangerous, but it looks like it is working, she thought in relief.

Ritsuko had not been gone for more than five minutes before Persephone returned with a book in her hands, and shortly thereafter Hecate showed the elves into the room. Settling in the central room of the suite, Airi asked her body servants to keep a lookout, with Hecate watching the Queen's suite for either the ruler or Ritsuko returning, while Persephone was to keep watch just outside the doors to the suite. The two did as asked eagerly, leaving the actress and the elves alone in the room.

“What's with the book?” asked Gabriella.

“It is a copy of the treaties Raltaow has with various kingdoms and groups,” Airi said, setting it aside. “I want to speak about Ritsuko and her plans for spring,” she said simply, sobering the other women.

“How bad is it going to be?” asked Rapier.

“That honestly depends on what the kingdoms do and rather or not we find the nobleman who did this to her,” Airi replied. “I am going to give you all a list of noblemen that are suspected of being involved in slavery, along with a sketch of the nobleman who did this to us and his prime conspirators. I need you to carefully see if any of the ones on the list is the man or is known to the man. I don't think I need to tell you what Rit-chan will do if she gets this list, so this must be between us, and not her,” Airi cautioned the elves.

“Do you think that wise?” asked Annette.

“It is the best plan I can find for limiting her anger,” admitted Airi. “You will notice Milliea is not here,” she pointed out.

“Sticking to Ritsuko again?” smiled Rapier.

“Like glue,” smiled Airi.

“She might not be very sharp upstairs, but she is tenacious,” smiled Gabriella.

“Yes,” agreed Airi. “But getting back to the point, it won't be long before Ritsuko takes Mike back over the pass and we will be back in the war. We must be ready.”

“I am kind of surprised Ritsuko hasn't just driven Mike into the Congress of Kings and killed them all. She certainly isn't too squeamish to do that, and it's not like they could stop her, either,” Gabriella mused aloud.

Airi sighed. “She had that idea last fall, actually,” admitted the actress. “I was able to convince her that doing that would only prolong the war, but I don't know that she has the patience to resist this year. It will mostly hinge on giving her something else to focus on - like the man who did this to her.”

“Or maybe a way to get the slave rune off her,” suggested Annette. Airi gave the elf priestess a look.

“You have found a way?” she asked directly.

“Perhaps,” Annette hedged her answer when asked so directly by one of the two women bearing the rune. “I need to do some more research back at the Temple, but I think there is a way to remove it.”

“What is the timeframe?” was the immediate response from the Chancellor.

“I will need to do some reading, and some experiments on a similar spell, and then I would have to determine how many casters I would need, so…fall-ish, maybe?” Annette hedged.

“The sooner we can give her something else to focus on, the better. Read fast,” suggested Airi.

“Couldn't we just take you and her to that healer? The one who said she could remove the disfigurations?” suggested Rapier.

“Yeah! Maybe the healer could set her mind at ease about this disease issue she is obsessed with,” agreed Gabriella.

“I suppose it couldn't hurt, but I doubt she will be able to do anything on that issue,” came the skeptical reply from Airi. “Moreover, I have decided to keep these marks for the immediate future; at least until the war is over. It is part of my character as the Chancellor of Raltaow, after all,” she gave them a strange sort of smile. “It helps keep me in character.”

“Well, in other news, Junpei has gone missing from the Southern Kingdoms, but has been seen in the Western Kingdoms, being his usual self,” Annette sighed.

“Yes, we need to decide what to do about him,” murmured Airi.

“Won't he be glad to join up with you two again?” wondered Rapier.

“Rit-chan and I are worried he might have been magically compromised,” revealed the human. “And since neither of us are a match for him unarmed, it is wise to keep our distance for now. Also, Ritsuko might well just shoot him as a precautionary measure,” she added, her lips twitching a little.

“Well, if we run into him, want us to sleep spell him or something?” suggested Gabriella.

“Perhaps that would be best, but can you hold him once he wakes up? And where would we keep him while we figure out if he has been manipulated?” Airi asked in turn.

“Oh, if we can get him down, we can keep down,” came the confident reply from Gabriella, Annette nodding as well. “Hell, even he can't break chains with his bare hands, so we can just chain him up like the rabid dog he is,” she laughed.

“I wouldn't be so quick to assume that, but it is an idea,” Airi agreed. She had been chained before, as had Ritsuko, so they knew what it was like. And while she wasn't eager to do that to a nominal friend, she wasn't going to leave herself vulnerable to being re-captured, either.

“What of the Rebellion?” Annette asked.

“Things are progressing in a stable manner, so I think it can manage itself, so long as the Kingdoms don't do anything foolish and as long as the leadership of the Rebellion obey Rit-chan's orders,” smiled Airi.

“How likely are they to ignore her?” wondered Gabriella.

“Very unlikely,” laughed Airi. “Rit-chan and I have talked about this at length, and she anticipated a lot of the problems that could arise long before she fired the first shot of the Rebellion. Her captains were picked for their abilities and for their commitment to the cause. Four of the five are fanatics, the last one is a professional soldier, and they all either deeply respect her or fear her enough to keep them honest. Even more so after she had to go down there and smack them around a bit last year,” Airi smiled.

“I wouldn't want to cross her, either,” admitted Rapier. Airi gave her sober nod.

“She does seem a bit calmer these last few weeks,” frowned Annette. “What changed?”

“I took steps,” was all Airi said, her tone slightly cool.

“Will it last?” Gabriella asked bluntly.

“That depends on what happens during the next few months,” answered the woman. “Which is why we need to be ready with a plan before she can get Mike back over the passes.”

“Speaking of that, what are you planning for your kingdom?” grinned Rapier.

“I am only the Chancellor,” denied Airi.

“And yet the Queen won't do a thing without your approval,” Annette blandly noted. “So, what is your plan?”

“Much like my dear Rit-chan, I will be carrying the fight forward, but through diplomatic channels,” Airi answered casually. “My primary focus will be on smoking out the men responsible for all this and putting pressure on the Kingdoms to eliminate this issue entirely.”

“So you will be pressuring them politically and economically while Ritsuko will be drowning them in blood, terror and death. I almost feel sorry for them,” Annette muttered.

“Don't,” came the one-word answer from Airi. Her tone was cold and distant, unlike the usual warm tone she used. “They started it, we are just finishing it.”

The three elven women glanced at each other, wondering if Airi hadn't somehow taken some of the darkness from Ritsuko into herself. There were spells that could do that, and they knew more than a couple of such spells. The problem with that kind of spell was that the darkness wasn't banished - it was just distributed. And it was often the case that the darkness grew to fill both of the parties.

After a moment of silence, Airi spoke up again. “On the topic of Celsia…”

Focusing their thoughts, the elven women got back to business. “Nothing new yet,” Annette reported. Airi hummed, a finger touching her chin for a moment.

“Is there any magical way to determine if she might be dead?” asked the actress.

“Well, none that come to mind immediately, but there are a few that might be adapted,” Annette began slowly.

“You think she's dead?” Gabriella asked.

“Just considering all the possibilities,” Airi side-stepped a direct answer. “Hypothetically speaking, if Celsia were dead, could you cast the Seren Sarat to get us home, Annette? Also speaking hypothetically, is there a place or way to hide her from us? And who might profit from her disappearance? Or, perhaps a better question would be what use a high priestess of elves would be to someone or group of people. Thoughts?”

The three elven women were silent, glancing back and forth. “Annette, Gabriella, Rapier,” Airi prompted the three. “Remember that we are trying to get her back and that we are not the enemy, in spite of what it might seem like from time to time.”

“There are other issues at play,” Annette said quietly.

“I can only surmise that this is some sort of species issue, then,” Airi replied crisply. “We won't tell any other humans, you know. What we want is to get back to our world, where there are no elves, so that all but guarantees that the secret won't get out. But, if you really can't or won't say, we will…find another way.”

All three elves felt a chill in their spine at the slight pause in Airi's answer and the smooth, cool tone she had at the very end. “Anyway, let's get organized while you think about that,” smiled Airi, pulling up a notebook. The elves recognized it.

“Um, isn't that Ritsuko's war book?” asked Annette.

Airi smiled. “Yes, it is,” she confirmed. “Let's cover the tasks we need to accomplish, shall we?”

Ritsuko guided the air narwhale low and close along the road that linked Raltaow to the Kingdoms, binoculars to her eyes. Milliea patiently watched, a small smile on her face. “Looking good,” grunted Ritsuko. “I could probably take Mike through right now, but I think I will give it another couple of weeks,” she decided. Urging the narwhale up and faster, she headed for the Kingdoms. “In the meantime, I want to check a few things before heading back to Raltaow,” she smiled to herself, a hand caressing the PSG1 tucked into a leather scabbard with extra mag pouches stitched to the side.

She had loaded three mags with match ammo, and another six with good old fashioned mil-spec ball. The last magazine was loaded with black-tipped armor-piercing rounds. The tungsten steel cores would make very short work of even the heaviest shield and could be counted on to punch through most other infantry-type armor systems. Ritsuko was reasonably certain she could even compromise the crude cannon systems with a hit or three with the AP rounds. Still, she didn't plan to use them except in an emergency.

Her primary system would be her G36, as usual. The size and weight of the precision rifle was a drawback in most situations she expected to run into, while it was a very reassuring back-up option; especially with what she had planned. The girl was dressed in native clothes over her shorts and a tee shirt, the ubiquitous travelers' cloak concealing most of her. She had a flannel blanket wrapped around her as well for the cold of the high altitude.

“Where are we going, Rit-chan?” chirped Milliea. Ritsuko turned to smile at her friend.

“I thought I would check in with my teams one more time, make sure nothing is going off track and coordinate with some allies before the spring offensive,” answered the human. “Do you want to check in on your grandfather?” she asked.

“He's fine, now that he doesn't have to look after me,” Milliea replied.

“If you want to, just tell me - I don't mind,” assured the gunfighter. Milliea beamed at her.

“I know,” replied the elf. Ritsuko made sure the air fish was on course before settling back beside the armored elf, the two snuggling in closer to share warmth. “Where are we going to first?” Milliea asked.

“Thought we would drop in on Colleena and check up on the status of our infiltrators in the courts. Maybe see how they are coming on rebuilding the shipyards we torched,” smiled Ritsuko.

“Why don't we swing by that group of healers and see if they have learned anything new?” suggested Milliea. Ritsuko frowned.

“They can't have learned anything worth knowing in so short a time,” she began.

“You won't know that if you don't stop by,” argued Milliea. “And what could it hurt to get checked out?” she added.

“Milliea,” sighed Ritsuko.

“But Rit-chan, what could it hurt to get checked out?” insisted Milliea.

“I'll think about it,” Ritsuko eventually capitulated. For the next few hours, the two were silent, watching the peaks pass and then fade away. Twice before evening Ritsuko checked the air fish's heading and adjusted the altitude down to a more comfortable temperature. Just before the sun set, Ritsuko found a good spot and set down, the two swiftly making a basic but good supper before sleeping close to the air fish's tether.

Before dawn, the two had a quick hot breakfast before starting off again. They arrived in the kingdom Colleena was princess of a little after noon, Ritsuko having avoided larger towns and cities. Finding a larger farm, Ritsuko guided the air narwhale to the barn, finding a farmer and his son waiting when she landed the air fish. Annette had explained how most travel by air fish was done, and it usually involved paying someone to watch over the air fish if the visit was a short one or to a town without dedicated air fish facilities.

It took Ritsuko and Milliea exactly ten minutes to get the farmer to agree to watch over their air narwhale. Ritsuko explained her requirements, gave him some gold, and assured him that if her narwhale was missing, he - and by extension, his family - would be responsible. He clearly got the message behind her words, as did his son, who was eyeing the armored elf with both interest and a bit of fear. Ritsuko added a carrot to her stick by promising him three times the amount of gold she had already given him if her air fish was safe and in good condition. He had asked how long she planned to be gone. She had been somewhat vague about the time, but promised him it wouldn't be more than a few days, likely less.

Shouldering the leather scabbard for her long gun, she had set out for town, Milliea by her side. It was an hour's walk to the town gates. Ritsuko found it a rather nice walk, since she was wearing her comfortable boots and the air was cool, but not cold, with a clear sky and no dust or mud to speak of on the road. As she approached town, she drew up her hood and made sure no part of the PSG1 was exposed. To most, it would look like a covered bow case or a custom carry case for some sort of exotic device. While not common, such equipment was not uncommon, either.

Entering town was not difficult, even with extra soldiers at the gates. The two entered the line, and when they reached the guards, the guards looked them over and asked what they were entering town for. Ritsuko had sneered at the man and said `food, drink and bed, moron' while the guard looking over Milliea had spotted her long ears and only half-heartedly asked her the same thing. She had smiled sweetly and said `same as my friend'. The two had been waved through, though the guard mentioned that the city was under curfew. Ritsuko had snorted softly at that, but said nothing more.

Following Ritsuko, Milliea found herself entering a tavern. Ritsuko moved to the bar and spoke softly with the man before taking a tankard of ale and a jug of water and moving toward the far corner of the room. Finding a table with a barely-conscious man and a bored whore at it, she had kicked the man. When he roused a bit, she locked gazes with him and tossed her head toward the door. Blinking, he had started to say something, but stopped, looking between Ritsuko and Milliea a couple times before staggering out of the tavern. The whore opened her mouth, her expression dark, but had snapped her jaw shut when Ritsuko turned a glare on her.

“Go fuck yourself,” Ritsuko ordered, tossing her a couple of gold coins. The whore had hurried off. The elf hunter and the elf settled in at the table, Ritsuko pushing the tankard of ale over to Milliea, keeping the jug of water for herself. About twenty minutes later, a barmaid made it to their table with two plates of food, setting one in front of each before leaving without a word. The two fell to eating.

As the evening rush was building, Ritsuko abruptly stood up, touching Milliea's arm, the elf rising smoothly as well. The human headed straight for a door leading into the back of the tavern. Slipping through, she had pushed the door closed behind them before turning to enter another doorway, where a small, cluttered room served as the nominal office/counting room/staff lounge for the tavern. A middle-aged woman was just sitting down when Ritsuko entered. The woman turned to look at the two before blinking.

“Boss,” she said softly as Ritsuko brushed back her hood.

“Is it safe to talk here?” asked the younger human quietly.

“More or less,” the woman replied.

“Report. Start with this curfew bullshit,” ordered Ritsuko. The woman chuckled softly.

“The city has been restless lately, so the great and wise nobility who run it imposed a curfew between third bell past nightfall and fifth bell past midnight. The guards - what few there are of them - patrol the streets, but their routes are rigid and on a fixed schedule. No disruption to our work or to the citizens in general,” reported her agent.

“Is your team intact?” asked Ritsuko.

“So far, but I had to send the man outside the walls after an encounter with the guards,” sighed the woman.

“What is his job?” asked Ritsuko, her mind busy.

“He scouts the movement of targets to and from the chokepoints we have set up. He also acts as an agitator among the farmers and traders. I think he has found his niche,” she smiled thinly.

“The rest?” asked Ritsuko.

“As planned. You staying the night? If so, you can go to the boarding house,” suggested the agent.

“Not sure yet. Any news of note?” she asked.

“Not in the last month or two. We have got this city restless and orchestrated a few modest riots, burned some buildings and gotten some nobles killed. Do we need to turn up the heat?” asked the woman. Ritsuko consulted a map with colored marks here and there.

“Not right now,” decided the leader. “But I want you to start tightening the noose around the mayor's residence, the city garrison and I want the nobles to start sweating. Understood?” she asked. The woman nodded. “Questions?” she asked.

“Are we doing better than the other teams?” grinned the woman.

“That is irrelevant,” was all Ritsuko would say. The woman pouted. Her eyes spotted the leather case slung over Ritsuko's back.

“Are you here to play with matches, Boss?” she asked with a grin. Ritsuko shrugged.

“You don't need to know that. How are the roads to the capital?” she turned the topic away from her.

“Mostly intact,” the woman said, motioning for the map. Ritsuko laid it out. “Here and here, there are criminals and brigands we have stirred up who ambush travelers and merchant caravans regularly. We burned this bridge three months ago, and it isn't fixed yet. Over here, the army has a `secret' camp to quickly respond to the attacks from the brigands and criminals, but everyone knows it is there, so it is useless. Somewhere in here is a training ground, and our sources say that a company or two of soldiers is due back from the front any time now,” she said, pointing to the places on the map. Ritsuko nodded, eyes on the map.

“Ok. Any emergencies or support needed?” ask the leader.

“We are actually doing pretty good with the tavern,” admitted the woman. “But we could always use gold and a source of tools.”

“Come spring, you will get more supplies. For now, use this wisely,” replied her boss, tossing a bag of gold, gems and silver to the table. The woman tucked it away.

“I will, Boss,” promised the older woman.

“Anything else?” replied the red-head.

“We have been hearing rumors of negotiations between the Rebellion and the Kingdoms. Is that true?” she asked.

“Negotiations are ongoing, but the goals are unchanged,” answered Ritsuko. “Either way, you volunteered for this, so don't waste time watching others work.”

“Yes, Boss,” nodded the woman. Ritsuko frowned for a moment before leaning closer to the older woman.

“Understand this with no mistake,” she murmured. “A team is missing elsewhere, presumed dead, and another team has already lost half their members. This is not even close to over, so don't think my warning no longer applies. I expect you to do what has to be done or die trying, understood?”

“I will,” vowed the woman. “I would rather die than be enslaved again!”

Ritsuko nodded before turning away. “Until next time,” she said, moving out of the office and toward the rear gate, where the tavern received the casks of drink and the supplies for the business. Slipping through it, she led her friend into the city streets, hearing the bells ring. “Keep your ears sharp, Milliea, we are breaking curfew and if we run into a patrol, I will shoot them all where they stand,” warned the elf hunter.

“I will hear them long before they see us,” promised Milliea. The two moved swiftly through the town, skirting the patrols without fail. Reaching the center of town, Ritsuko stepped into a shallow alley while she pulled a canteen up and removed the cap. Fishing in her small traveler's pack, she produced some stiff cloth, which she carefully formed into a cup-shaped plug in the neck of the canteen before fishing up a tightly-sealed vial and emptying it into the cup which she gently pushed into the canteen and replacing the top.

Ritsuko swiftly dashed to the other side of the street and tucked the canteen against the door to the magistrate's office. Dragging a potted plant over, she used it to keep the canteen upright and tight to the door. Tossing her head, she hurried off, Milliea keeping up. As she moved, she checked her watch, which she had hidden under a leather bracer on her arm. “Let's see how good my fuses are,” she muttered, heading back for the gate. “The average for the reaction is fifteen minutes for that size charge,” she shared in a soft murmur.

Eighteen minutes later, they were almost to the gate when a thunderclap sounded, and a fireball shot up from the city center. “Three minutes slow,” smirked Ritsuko, the two dodging into an ally as they heard troops running toward the fire that was growing in the city center. Seeing a detachment of guards run past, the two held still. One of the guards slowed, looking into the dark alley. Ritsuko silently swung the G36 forward as the man slowly stepped into the alley, peering into the gloom. Just before Ritsuko flicked the safety off and shot him, Milliea stepped forward, swinging her sword. The man's head bounced down the alley. “Milliea,” blinked Ritsuko, knowing that the elf girl didn't like killing as a general rule.

“I won't let you lose yourself again,” was all the elf said, flicking her sword to clear the blood off it before sheathing it. The two hurried to the gate, finding it was unguarded in the confusion. The two hurried out and toward the farm. Half way there, Ritsuko turned and headed for the area where the camp was supposed to be.

An hour later, the two had reached the area and scouted it, finding it to be ready for a camp but with no troops or structures as of yet. Ritsuko swiftly marked the map she had before the two departed, heading for the road to the farm. Reaching it, they had scanned the area before going to the barn and getting comfortable in the hay near their air fish. When the farmer came out early the next morning, they were already up and about to depart. Ritsuko had tossed him the promised gold coins, thanking him and suggesting that if he kept his mouth shut and didn't ask questions, he might find himself boarding their air fish again. Seeing as the gold was more than he made in a year, he agreed enthusiastically. Ritsuko and Milliea climbed aboard and the air narwhale was heading for the capital, where Colleena had her court.

Rather than board the fish, Ritsuko landed it in the garden of the palace, ordering the surprised gardener and guards to inform Princess Colleena that a friend was visiting. The servants automatically assumed the friend was Milliea, since her head was uncovered and she was an elf like their princess. Ritsuko said little and left her hood up. About ten minutes later, Colleena came to the garden, twitching as she realized who was under the cape, but inviting them in before ordering her staff to care for the air narwhale. The two were shown to a private room, where Ritsuko brushed back her hood.

“Colleena,” she greeted the elf princess.

“Um, yes, welcome, Ritsuko,” the elf replied. “You too, Milliea,” she added.

“Colleena! It so good to see you again!” chirped Milliea, hugging the princess tight.

“You seem nervous, Colleena,” noted Ritsuko. “Did we catch you at a bad time?” she asked, her tone vaguely suspicious.

“No! Not at all,” insisted the princess, eyes on the leather case over the human's back. “It's just that if you are looking for your friends, they were invited to the court of the King of High Vale. They left last week,” she explained.

“High Vale is the kingdom next to the western-most Central Kingdoms, isn't it?” pressed Ritsuko, picturing a map in her head.

“Yes! And the king there will probably introduce them in the Capital when he returns for the next Congress session month after next,” Colleena confirmed.

“Will they pass for dispossessed Southern Kingdoms nobility?” Ritsuko asked directly.

“They play nobility very well,” admitted Colleena. “My husband was quite taken with them, actually,” a bit of irritation tainted her tone.

“Did they sleep with him?” asked Ritsuko, sounding only vaguely concerned.

“I don't…think so,” allowed Colleena. “At least, I never caught them and no one ever said anything. Still, I'm glad they are gone,” she muttered.

“So is that why you are nervous?” wondered Milliea curiously.

“No, in point of fact,” sighed the other elf. “My husband has found a new amusement,” she shared, glancing around.

“So?” was the indifferent response from Ritsuko.

“It is the arena champion, the White Dragon,” Colleena murmured. “He is our guest right now,” she added, tense.

“Junpei?” blinked Ritsuko, now focused on what the princess was saying. Colleena nodded.

“Is he here? In the palace?” Ritsuko demanded.

“No, he and my husband are out enjoying a tourney hosted by the court nobles,” Colleena replied. “I can send for…”

“Don't,” hissed Ritsuko. Seeing the look on the elf princess's face, Ritsuko shook her head. “We think he is brain-washed by some enemy faction. I can't take him hand to hand, so if I run into him and he tries anything, I will have to shoot him.” She sounded entirely fine with that. “Where is this tourney?” she asked.

“On the lands of the Baron of the Court, about five miles south of the city,” Colleena answered. Ritsuko hummed.

“How long do you expect them to be gone?” she asked.

“They left yesterday, and shouldn't be back until tomorrow night or the next day,” Colleena replied.

“We need a room for the night, then,” Ritsuko said. “I need to look around the city and then we're off again,” she promised.

“You…aren't planning to blow up anything or kill anyone, are you?” worried Colleena. Ritsuko gave her a crooked smile.

“Not planning to, but things just happen sometimes,” was all she would commit to. The princess sighed.

“How is Airi?” she asked, sitting down in a chair.

“Airi is always fine,” came the neutral reply from Ritsuko. “I am pretty sure you will be seeing her first thing after the passes are clear.”

The next hour was spent catching up and then the two slipped out and into the city. Ritsuko and Milliea walked all through the city, eyes sharp before Ritsuko made contact with her cell leader and got an update. She gave some new orders and then the two stopped by a tavern for some food. As night fell, they made their way back to the palace and had a bath before going to bed in the modest room Colleena had made available for them. The next morning, they had breakfast with the princess before preparing to head out. As they were about to bid their co-conspirator goodbye, a guard approached the princess, informing her that the sheriff of the capital needed a word with her. Almost feeling Ritsuko's eyes on her back, she informed the guard to show him into the garden where the three had been when the guard found her.

The sheriff approached and informed her that another incident had occurred. This piqued the interest of Ritsuko, and she caught Colleena's eyes, prompting the princess to ask the sheriff to refresh her memory of the problem. The sheriff reminded her of the kidnappings and disappearances of citizens in the town, and went on to inform her that this time, it was the daughter of a rather influential court lord. She had vanished on her way back from the garden party of a friend. He finished by wondering what the rebellion was doing with these kidnappings.

“There is no proof it is the rebellion, Sheriff,” Colleena replied quickly, worried that Ritsuko might be upset to hear that line of thought. “The front has been stabilized for a long time now, and there is very little unrest in this kingdom; more so in the capital,” she reminded him.

“My princess, I can only say what our investigation points toward,” insisted the Sheriff, making Ritsuko snort softly. Hearing this, the Sheriff sent her a sharp look, which she ignored.

“Princess Colleena, I would be happy to look around a bit, if you don't mind,” she said.

“Of course,” Colleena agreed. Without another word, Ritsuko and Milliea turned and headed for the gate.

“Princess,” began the sheriff.

“They are trusted friends of mine, sheriff,” she cut him off. “I do not want you to interfere with them, is that understood?” she added, mentally shuddering at the multiple ways things would go horribly wrong if the sheriff angered Ritsuko.

“But I am Sheriff of the capital,” protested the man.

“And you are doing a splendid job,” Colleena agreed soothingly. “Think of this as a hobby of my friends, and humor them by letting them do as they will. They will grow bored quickly, I am sure, and you have enough on your plate already, don't you?” she said. The sheriff grunted before bowing.

“As you will, Princess Colleena,” he gave in. She bowed her head a little and he departed, still grumbling. Sighing in relief, Colleena went back to her study to see what needed attention that day.

Ritsuko made her way to her team leader and asked her to find out what she could about the kidnappings. Turns out the leader had been watching it for a while, and had some good leads and information, but hadn't said anything because it wasn't aimed at them, it didn't affect their plans and she didn't think Boss would even care.

“Normally, I wouldn't,” agreed Ritsuko, “but this seems familiar to me, and if it is what I think, well…I wouldn't want to miss such a good opportunity,” she finished through locked teeth, fire in her eyes.

After looking over all the information, she had returned to the palace, boarded the air narwhale and headed out, climbing to a good altitude before using her binoculars to search the area below them. They spent the rest of the day and the first two hours of night doing that before they settled down in a clearing for the night. Before first light, they were up again. Around noon, Ritsuko had spotted something of interest.

“What is it, Rit-chan?” wondered Milliea.

“Just a carriage with a cart that seems out of place,” grunted Ritsuko. “The guards are wrong, the road it is using and the way it moves is just all wrong. I think I want a closer look,” she purred, looking ahead of the interesting carriage. Spotting a good spot, she headed there, keeping high and away from the carriage, careful to make sure her shadow didn't get anywhere near the target. Settling the air narwhale in a small opening in relatively thick forest made by the collapse of a large, old hardwood, she secured the air fish, grabbed her rifle case and headed toward the road some ways away from the air fish.

Finding the right spot took her some time, but she finally had things arranged the way she wanted them thanks to Milliea and her enchanted swords. After thoroughly briefing Milliea on the plan - the better to make sure she didn't accidentally interfere with it - Ritsuko settled in and waited. She had calculated that they would either stop near where she was set up for the night, or they would pass right through her field of fire. Either way, she would have what she needed.

The sun was almost set when the carriage and the wagon came into view. Ritsuko flipped the scope covers open on her PSG1 and began to glass over the group. None of the guards looked familiar, but they all looked wrong for a group of carriage guards. The driver of the carriage looked at the sky, then the area around them and halted the carriage.

“Perfect,” murmured Ritsuko, lowering the zoom on her scope to its base setting. She frowned as the guards began to move into the woods, hands on weapons. Perimeter search. They at least are not total morons, she thought, snuggling a bit deeper into her hide. Give that she was quite some distance from the carriage, she wasn't overly worried about being found, but wasn't going to take a chance, either. The guards returned several minutes later, each carrying some firewood. While one of them informed the occupants of the carriage that the camp site was ready, the others were making three small fires in a rough triangle around the carriage and wagon. Ritsuko watched the carriage door open with baited breath, her thumb flicking the rifle off safe as she did so.

“Come on, show me what I want to see,” she breathed, beginning to control her breath for the shot. At a measly three hundred some meters, the shots were hardly challenging for her, but she wasn't going to take any chances. The first person stepped out of the carriage. She frowned, not recognizing the man. She waited, but the second person didn't emerge. Instead, the first held up a wand and began to chant.

“Oh, no you don't,” she hissed, swiftly putting the cross hairs on the man's upper lip and caressing the trigger. The rifle had barely steadied again before she was on the next target, and so forth and so on. The last of the guards barely had time to curse before a full metal jacket boat tail match round sliced through the man's shield, then his breast plate, then his chest before punching out the back of his armor, having torn a lung apart and severed his spine. Ritsuko settled her crosshairs on the carriage again, but the man inside wasn't coming out. She could see the carriage move and knew at least one more was in there, but they weren't coming out, and the light was fading. She didn't have a night scope either, unfortunately.

“We have to improvise, Milliea,” she said. Not far from her, her friend poked her head up from where she had been concealed. “Got at least one more in the carriage, but they aren't coming out and the light is fading. So, we are going to walk it up on them, like we were going to do after they were all down, but more careful. When we get close enough, I want you to slice the end off that carriage. I will cover you,” she said, rising and folding the bipod back down before tucking the PSG1 into its case and unslinging the G36.

It took them ten minutes to cover the distance, Ritsuko watching the carriage and the area around them over the sights of her carbine. When they were close enough, she signaled stop, sinking to a kneeling position and getting a good sight picture on the carriage. “Get out of the fucking carriage before I decide to burn it with you still inside, asshole!” she yelled. The carriage shook a bit on its suspension, but there was no reply. “Last chance,” warned Ritsuko.

“Fuck you!” a voice called back from inside.

“No thanks, been there, done that,” called back Ritsuko, tossing her head. Milliea sighed, but walked up to the front of the carriage, cut the horses free and then sliced the entire front of the carriage free, kicking it aside as it fell. Inside the carriage, a man blinked at the sudden loss of the entire front of the carriage, a crossbow in his hands. Two shots from Ritsuko solved the problem, one shattering the crossbow, the other shredding his arm. Screaming, he thrashed around while Ritsuko jogged up. “Oh, shut up,” she snarled, kicking him in the head. He fell silent. “Grab a belt from one of the corpses and put a tourniquet around his arm,” she ordered Milliea. “I'm going to check the wagon and make sure that no stragglers are out there,” she relayed, moving past the carriage carefully to the wagon.

“Ok,” Milliea replied easily. She was just glad that Ritsuko hadn't killed this guy, too.

After carefully checking the wagon, she untied the cover, throwing it back even as she kept her rifle up and ready. Inside the wagon were several bound and gagged people, stacked like cord wood on top of a modest pad. Most of them were women, and about half were unconscious. Pulling free her sheath knife, she picked a conscious woman and cut the gag off her. “How many in the party?” she demanded, ignoring the woman's attempt to thank her. She repeated the question twice before she got an answer. Swiftly counting bodies, she was relieved they were all accounted for. “Milliea,” she called, the elf appearing a few moments later, wiping her hands on a section of cloth likely cut from the clothing of a guard.

“Wow! We found them!” she chirped happily.

“Yes, so we did,” grunted Ritsuko. “Cut her bonds then help her unload the others. Keep an eye on them, too,” she added, slinging her rifle and moving toward the unconscious man. “I have some questions for our prisoner,” she purred darkly.

“Rit-chan,” Milliea called after her, but didn't say any more. A couple quick waves of her swords, and the woman was free. Almost afraid to move, she nevertheless helped unload the others before sitting quietly on the grass by the roadside. Ritsuko dragged the man into the woods, and few minutes later, they heard screaming and sobbing. After several minutes, a single gunshot was heard and Ritsuko emerged from the woods, a dark, scary smile on her face.

“First thing in the morning, you all take the wagon and head back to the capital. Don't waste any time, either. When you get there, inform the sheriff you escaped and need to speak with the princess immediately on a very important matter. He will probably say no, but tell him if he doesn't take you to see the princess right away, the princess's friends will come talk to him about it personally, and he won't like that at all. Understood?” warned Ritsuko.

“Y…yes,” the woman agreed.

“When you see the princess, tell her that Milliea and her friend freed you, and will be handling the issue from here on out, and will tell her all the details when next we see her. Understood?”

“Yes, mistress!” the woman almost cried. This young woman scared her more than the kidnappers did.

“Good. Untie the others, get some food and drink and then some sleep,” ordered Ritsuko, pulling out a map and studying it for a long moment. Satisfied, she tucked it away and glanced at the dark sky, then the fires. “You, young man,” she said, turning to a recently-freed young man about her age.

“Yes, milady?” he answered humbly.

“Pick another guy and stack all these bodies in the carriage. You can have anything off them you like, but I want them stacked in the carriage. Oh, and toss the front of the thing in there, too,” she smiled at him sweetly.

“At once, milady,” he bowed to her, grabbing another guy and leading him to the nearest body, which they picked up and then tossed into the ruined carriage.

“Why aren't you helping?” wondered another young man, seeing the two beckon to him.

“You expect ladies to do such a dirty and distasteful task? How rude!” Ritsuko approximated disdain. “Or do you want your body to join the others, boy?” she added a moment later in a dark growl.

“N…no, milady!” he squeaked, hurrying to help the first two with the bodies. The women silently watched, eyes big.

“Stop gawking, get some water, eat some food and go to sleep,” ordered Ritsuko without looking at the women. They swiftly fumbled for the saddle bags of food and canteens of water. “And boys? Don't forget the body in the woods,” she called to the young men. Minutes later, the work was done.

“Very good work, boys,” smiled Ritsuko. “Now, find enough dry wood to fill the remaining space and to build a nice platform below it. Quickly now, before the smell gets too strong,” she ordered. The young men nearly ran into the edge of the woods, grabbing every bit of dry wood they could find and cramming the inside full before starting to build a platform below it. Milliea helpfully sliced up several dead trees into nice easy-to-handle lengths. It was only a half hour before it was done, leaving the young men panting.

“Thank you,” Ritsuko said. “Get some food, water and then sleep while I perform a funeral service for these poor fools.”

“You are a priestess?” wondered one of the young men.

“Of sorts, I suppose,” Ritsuko said, selecting three burning logs from each fire. “Of course, I mean a Viking funeral,” she added, throwing them on top of the wood base and jamming them into the carriage. In minutes, the thing was in flames, and burned all night. In the morning, the kidnapped people couldn't leave soon enough. Once they were gone, Ritsuko led the way back to the air fish.

“Rit-chan, what are we doing now?” Milliea asked.

“Going to meet someone, but this time, on my terms,” purred Ritsuko, guiding the air fish up. That evening, they found a spot and put the air fish down before Ritsuko scouted out an old, run-down farm stead. After thoroughly evaluating things, she and Milliea got a good night's sleep under the air narwhale before getting into position before first light. A few hours later, another carriage and wagon rolled up to the run-down farmstead. After the guards checked the area, they wagon was unloaded into the farm house along with the men from the carriage. The rest of the men lounged around outside the farmhouse. Hours passed.

As noon came and went, the men from inside came outside, showing signs of impatience. Ritsuko nodded to herself before drawing her cloak hood up and moving to the road. She and Milliea - also cloaked - walked toward the farm house, heads lowered a bit. Under her cloak, Ritsuko was cradling her G36. Striding along steadily, they ignored the calls from the men around the house as they closed in. The men instinctively gathered into a group to confront them.

“Now,” Ritsuko said, pulling her carbine out from under the cloak and sweeping the group on full-auto, dropping most of them before she let her long gun drop to hang by its sling, her hand pulling her pistol free and opening fire with that. Milliea dashed forward, swords flickering, blocking the door to the farm house. One man was left standing, his neck hemmed in by Milliea's swords, watching as Ritsuko deliberately put insurance rounds into the heads of each of his men before throwing back the hood of her cloak.

“You,” the man breathed.

“Hello, Huntsman,” she greeted him, smiling thinly. “It has been so long since I have seen you, and we have so much to talk about…”

“Unbelievable,” sighed the Captain in charge of internal security and policing. “I knew there were loyalist, but this many?” she shook her head.

“Yeah, it was a surprise to me too - some of them were even slaves!” she added, disgust in her voice.

“Well, not all slaves were treated as badly as most,” noted the Captain. “And others just are not willing to be responsible for their own choices. It is just like Boss warned us it would be,” she said, shaking her head.

“Would this be a case of Boss seeing the future or her making problems for herself?” wondered the Lieutenant. “I know she didn't kill slaves who didn't join up with her, and she let slaves leave the fight when they got scared after a bloody battle. I know that Captain Rastali wanted her to stop them from leaving because he was worried that they would become a problem later,” mused the woman.

“Could be either way. I agreed with Rastali on the issue of not letting them leave, but Boss had a point, too, about the dangers of unwilling fighters in our ranks. I guess it could be seen either way. But if Boss had killed any slave that didn't join and forced everyone to fight, I doubt we would be where we are,” she sighed.

“Hm,” came the non-verbal reply. “You know we can't keep all of these under surveillance, right?” she returned to the topic at hand. “We don't have enough agents, and they are scattered all over the damn place, too,” she noted sourly.

“Maybe not as much as it first appears,” her Captain noted, shuffling the papers before laying a map down on the table in her office in the capital. Her lieutenant watched silently as the other woman organized the papers a few times before making small marks here and there on the map. When she was done, the Captain was smiling. “Not so scattered, after all,” she nodded to herself.

With the marks laid out on the map, it was easier to see a larger pattern. “They are concentrated in the largest cities and in the largest plantations,” noted the lieutenant.

“Indeed. And we can make that work to our advantage,” smiled the Captain. Their discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come,” called the Captain. The door opened to reveal Captain Rastali himself. “We were just talking about you,” cooed the female Captain.

“No wonder I felt chills down my back,” he replied blandly. He knew his fellow Captain was interested in him; and it wasn't that he wasn't interested back. It was that he felt it would compromise their ability to work together, and if that fell apart, Boss would likely kill them both. So, he resisted her advances as best he could. Not that he had managed complete success, of course. His fellow Captain pouted cutely at him. “I came here to talk business,” he sighed.

“You're no fun,” she huffed. “So what is it?” her tone turned serious.

“The Alliance army on our borders has been thinning down for some time now, and I know it isn't because of the negotiations, given how we are playing things,” he grinned a little. “So I had a few of my guys dress up in the armor and tabards of the Alliance and do a little latrine recon of the enemy. Thought you might like to know that it is turning out just like Boss predicted. Either they will accept our terms as given - which means we win - or they will launch a desperate attack. My sources indicate that it is likely to be the former, but one of my men overheard a Knight General talking about the Southern kings that have gone missing from the Congress. I think they are either going to try to start small-unit fighting in our territory like Boss has been doing to them, or they are going to try something militarily with sympathetic forces.”

“So you thought you would come talk to me and see if I had any new information and to see if we were ready, is that it?” she asked.

“More or less,” he confirmed.

“How did your man overhear a Knight General's council discussion?” wondered the Lieutenant.

“Even the highest-ranked officer has to visit the latrine like every other soldier,” the male Captain chuckled. “And it is a time-honored military tradition that latrines are rank-intolerant. Why do you think I had them go there?” he asked.

“Eww! Men are so gross!” the two women accused in unison. The male shrugged.

“Can't help it - we are born this way,” he ignored the attack. “Are we ready for either reaction?”

“We will be,” promised the female captain. “We were, in fact, just about to figure out how to best use and then destroy the loyalist sympathizers in our domain,” she shared.

“It would have been much easier if Boss had dealt with them at the start,” he grunted.

“Dangerous words,” cautioned the female Captain.

“She isn't here,” the man said, even as he glanced around. The women giggled softly. “What sort are these loyalists? Former nobles and plantation owners, I bet,” he scowled.

“About half of them, anyway,” the lieutenant interjected, making him frown.

“There are slaves who are loyalist?” he asked, sounding shocked. “I mean, a few I can see, but…”

“Boss predicted as much as one in three would be either loyalist or sympathetic to the loyalist cause,” the woman shared. “She started to explain why, but then stopped, saying it was irrelevant and to concentrate on dealing with them rather than delving into why they wanted to be slaves again.”

“Well, if you know who they are, let's just round them up and hang them; or string them up and flog them for a few days,” he suggested.

“Tempting, but that would be wasting the opportunity. Boss came up with a diabolical plan to use them to kill themselves and their cause. But, it is pretty intricate and timing it just right is going to be a pain in the ass,” she shared candidly.

“What can I do to help?” he asked, sounding eager.

“What is this?” wondered Airi, looking at the naked, bound form Ritsuko was muscling off the air narwhale with Milliea's help.

“Exactly what it looks like,” grunted Ritsuko.

“It looks like a naked man tied up like a shibari exhibit,” Airi said, smiling. “I didn't think you were into that sort of thing, Rit-chan, but whatever does it for you, I suppose. But, why a stranger and not that cute young boy with the crush on you?”

“You don't recognize him? He's an old friend,” Ritsuko said, getting the man on his feet. A thick black hood covered his head. Ritsuko untied the cord around his neck and pulled the hood off, revealing a familiar face, though this one was gagged with a length of rope tied around his head and into a ball-shaped knot which filled his mouth.

“Huntsman,” Airi said, her eyes cooling. The man blinked as he adjusted to the sudden light, focusing on Airi.

“Yes,” Ritsuko confirmed. The cold wind blew over his body, making him shiver as parts of him shrunk more. Ritsuko poked him with her thumb. “Stand up straight,” she ordered. “I am sure you remember Airi, Huntsman. And you can be sure she remembers you, too,” she added, her tone dark but lacking the deadly venom that Airi expected with one of their tormentors in her grasp.

“Rit-chan, I must say I am shocked to see him alive and in one piece,” Airi noted calmly.

“Not as surprised as I am,” sighed Ritsuko. “I should have peeled his skin off and slow-roasted him from the feet up for his part in what happened to us, but for some reason, I still can't hate him personally,” she admitted, speaking Japanese at the end.

“You intend to spare him?” wondered Airi.

“No. Maybe,” backtracked Ritsuko. “It's complicated,” she said, sighing again. “But don't worry,” she said, smiling at Airi, “he will tell us what we want to know, one way or another.”

“I am sure he will,” agreed Airi. “But what are you planning to do with him, having brought him here?” she wondered.

“Hm, good question,” Ritsuko replied. “Does the Queen have a dungeon or torture chamber?” she asked.

“If she does, I doubt it is the best place to keep him; for many reasons,” pointed out Airi. “And he can't stay in our suite, nor can he be allowed any freedom, either.”

“I know that,” Ritsuko replied dryly. “I thought about interrogating him where I captured him, but there were…considerations. And Milliea-chan never wants me to kill lately,” she almost complained.

None of us do, Rit-chan, thought Airi. “She is just looking out for you, Rit-chan,” Airi said aloud. “So, once more, what is the plan?” she asked.

“Guess we can't just stake him out here in the garden like one of those nude sculptures,” sighed Ritsuko. “Though the cold is making him look a bit like those statues of David in Italy,” she snickered, absently flicking his tightly-retracted dick with a fingertip.

“I don't think the Queen would be impressed,” Airi mused. Ritsuko sighed, grabbing a loop of rope and tugging on it.

“For now, we will secure him in that room where I do maintenance on my gear, I guess. You and I can come up with something better in the meantime. I'm hungry,” she shared, guiding him along toward the private entrance to the palace that was closest to their suite. Airi followed behind the three, her mind busy. She recalled that Ritsuko had told her that the Huntsman had often called her to his rooms, and she knew exactly what that meant, having had the same thing happen to her before her sale. But now that he was there, she realized that Ritsuko had never said much about what had happened after she was sold. It was obvious that Ritsuko's burning hatred didn't fully extend to this man, which she found intriguing; and a bit worrisome.

Entering the palace, the four all but ran into Hecate, who blinked at the naked, bound prisoner. “Hecate, dear,” Airi interjected before her body servant could speak, “this is a former acquaintance of ours who will be around for the next however long. Please do not say anything about this to the Queen; and he is not to be treated as a guest. Do please let Persephone know, and make sure no one listens to anything he might say.”

“Of course, Lady Airi,” the maid bowed. Ritsuko nodded to her as she and Milliea muscled him along.

“Mistress,” whispered Hecate as Airi started to pass her, “is he Lady Ritsuko's…plaything?” she wondered.

“Plaything?” Airi wondered, considering the idea.

“You know, plaything. Some people like playing like that,” hinted Hecate. “Is that how Lady Ritsuko likes her lovers?”

“Ah,” Airi figured out what Hecate was getting at. “While I think the term plaything is accurate, it is far from what you image it to be, my dear Hecate,” Airi said, leaning close to the maid. “If that man is her plaything, it is more like a mouse is a cat's plaything, because he was the one who captured us, and works for the man who tried to make us slaves,” Airi murmured. Hecate's face turned white before flushing red.

“I understand, Mistress Airi!” she said earnestly. “I will be sure the others know about his…status,” she promised, quickly moving off. Airi shook her head a little before following Ritsuko to the room where she did her weapons maintenance, finding that her teammate was almost done securing the man to the heavy chair using almost excessive amounts of paracord and rope. The gag remained, however.

Once she was satisfied, she straightened up and wiped her brow. The man had been tied to the chair at ankles, knees, hips, wrists, elbows, midsection, shoulders and neck. Ritsuko had gone one better and tightly bound his hands with thin strips of cloth so he couldn't use his hands at all. “Let's go eat, Airi,” she said happily. “And you, Huntsman, behave yourself until we get back,” she warned before they departed the room. Ritsuko paused, frowning at the door.

“Hecate will make sure someone keeps an eye on him while we eat,” she assured her friend.

“Then let's eat and have a nice bath before we start,” Ritsuko said, the group heading for the servant's dining area. After a good meal, the women soaked in the baths for a lengthy time before the three returned to the room. Ritsuko was wearing loose sweat shorts and a snug, short tee shirt, her gun belt around her hips, hair tied back in a ponytail, while Airi wore a simple dress. Milliea, as usual, was wearing her cursed armor.

Entering the room, they saw that the Huntsman had not escaped, though that was not a surprise. Ritsuko approached him and removed the gag before beginning to untie him. “If you need to use the bathroom, better do it now,” she warned, indicating a bucket on the floor. The Huntsman recognized that warning from part of the breaking process for slaves, but didn't say anything. He saw Airi place a canteen of water and a bowl of food on the table. He also saw Millie watching him, hands on sword hilts.

After relieving himself, he took a long drink of water. “Kill me and be done with it, Ritsuko,” he said, his voice a bit rough. “I will not betray my lord,” he warned.

“You will, but that will come later,” Ritsuko said.

“For now, we want to talk about you,” Airi interjected smoothly.

“To what ends?” the man asked. “I do not deny my role in your suffering. Have your vengeance and be about your business,” he insisted.

“Maybe our thirst for vengeance is more than you can sate,” Ritsuko suggested, settling on the corner of the table. The man eyed her in the skimpier clothes.

“I admit I am relieved to see you not only alive, but in seeming good health,” he offered to her.

“Thank you,” she replied evenly. “But understand one thing clearly: while I hold no personal anger toward you, your involvement in my suffering is more than enough to inspire me to do things to you that would make this world puke in horror if that is what it takes to get the answers I want. And I promise you, Huntsman, you will tell us everything we want to know, one way or another.”

“Rit-chan,” chided Airi, seeing from the expression on the Huntsman's face that he saw the rage in her eyes; and felt the touch of Death on his soul. “We need not behave like savages,” she eased the tension between the two a little.

“You mean like they do?” grunted Ritsuko.

“As I said, for now, let's talk about you. For instance, what is your name, anyway?”

“My name is Huntsman,” he said simply. “I have no other.”

“I doubt you were so auspicious at birth that your mother named you `Huntsman',” replied Airi dryly.

“My mother was a slave of my Lord's, as was her mother before her. Slaves have no need of names,” he replied simply. “It was likely a mistake to call you by your name while you were at my Lord's house, Ritsuko,” he admitted.

“It wouldn't have broken me,” dismissed the red-head. “Given what else happened to me there and later, being called `slave' wouldn't have meant shit to me,” she added, her tone darker than before.

“I meant for me, Ritsuko,” he clarified. She gave him a thin smile.

“Did it humanize me too much?” she guessed. He didn't say anything to that. “Anyway, you were born a slave - that much I knew,” she continued, resting a cheek on her knee, one leg drawn up so her heel was on the table top and her leg was folded in front of her, the other idly swinging. “I heard you had a woman. What happened?”

“Nothing that hasn't happened before,” he said, his jaw tightening.

“Who was she? Another slave, I surmise,” Airi interjected smoothly and kindly.

“Yes. We knew each other since we were children, and later, after the Lord got bored with her, we became close. We even had a child; a young girl with dark blonde hair,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Almost like a family,” he murmured, twitching with suppressed sobs.

“It isn't hard to guess something happened,” sighed Airi. “Did she die or was she sold?”

“While I was out acquiring new merchandise for my Lord, he sold my daughter to a whorehouse owner. Her mother went after them, but was killed. By the time I got back, it was too late - it was all over. I made it a point to find out who bought her and I looked him up the next chance I got, but my daughter had killed herself the day after she was put to work in the brothel. She was fourteen,” he nearly broke down. “My lord made me pay the brothel owner back her purchase price in new girls. After that, I vowed to never get close with anyone, but…” he let his head fall forward.

“Ritsuko must have reminded you of her or her mother,” Airi understood where the story was going. “Which was it? The daughter or the mother?”

“My daughter,” admitted the Huntsman. Airi saw that Ritsuko's swinging leg had stilled, and her visible hand was clenched in a fist. Now we will see how she is really doing mentally, predicted the older woman.

“And yet, you still work for that asshole, spreading the same grief to other parents, daughters, mothers and sisters,” snarled Ritsuko, her leg suddenly lashing out, striking the man in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Ritsuko leapt off the table, landing astride him, her hands grabbing his throat. “How dare you think your pain is more than anyone else's?!” she roared.

“Rit-chan!” yelled Milliea, grabbing the red-head by the shoulders and pulling her off the man before she could kill him. The Huntsman sat up, coughing a little.

“Ritsuko, calm down,” Airi asked, hugging the angry young woman to herself.

“That asshole dares to act like he's in such pain because he lost his daughter and wife while he remains a sniveling boot-licker to the man who did it?! I hate losers like him,” the red-head was nearly panting in rage.

“You know how such things work, Rit-chan,” Airi argued, “you even told your Captains about it,” she reminded her teammate.

“That is different!” insisted Ritsuko. “And anyway, I tried to talk him into escaping with me before I was sold, but he was too fucking scared. At least the ones with me had the balls to be free!” she hurled at him. A knock came from the door, and Milliea cracked it open for a moment before opening it to admit Gabriella and Rapier.

“So this is him, then?” Gabriella asked.

“Would you please escort Ritsuko to our bedroom? She is a bit emotional right now,” Airi asked, getting nods. The two bracketed her, getting scorching glares but successfully herding her from the room. Milliea started to follow, but Airi touched her arm, the elf girl remaining.

“Huntsman, we find ourselves in a bit of situation with regard to you,” Airi continued smoothly. “Obviously, how things turn out is more or less fixed, but what happens to you is more…flexible. I will say this to you now, however: either you man up and accept your mistakes, or you remain everything that Ritsuko has grown to hate, despise and loathe. She has been somewhat…moody since you and that piece of shit nobleman tried to make her a slave. Rest assured that she is your only friend, but that friendship is very fragile. I would be careful if I were you - she has not been herself since the plantation owner that bought her abused her. The things she has done makes even me queasy. I would hate to imagine what would become of you if she loses herself to rage again.”

The man said nothing. “I suspect you had some half-baked idea of making her so angry she killed you to prevent us from learning what we want to know, but that plan won't work. She has far more self-discipline than you, and her mind is tougher than you can imagine. You won't break her, but you could very easily earn a death I wouldn't wish on even that whoreson noble you cling to,” warned the woman, her tone cool, detached, smooth and certain.

“Myself, I recall you as a base rapist, if one of the gentler ones. Rit-chan has inferred that she preferred you to the others in the manor because you were gentle with her as well, but that doesn't change my desire to see you suffer for what you did. That you did it willingly even after your daughter and wife were lost counts heavily against you in my book, and I think you have lost much of Ritsuko's limited good-will with that self-absorbed sob-story. I am of the opinion that we should just force the information from you before executing you like the common criminal you are, but Ritsuko did ask that you be given a chance. Consider that chance to be almost finished.”

The Huntsman was silent. “As you might have surmised, I have risen quite high here, being the second most powerful person behind the Queen, so I can do as I like and no one will question it. These,” she paused to lower her dress so a fingertip could trace the slave markings that circled her mid-section, “mean that no one will help you; and most will be out to see you suffer,” Airi said, her dress to her waist revealing her breasts in addition to the slave markings burned, cut and tattooed into her skin. “You have but one friend here, and you just managed to anger her. Not the best move, but perhaps you might learn from your mistakes. So, let's talk about your friends before we get to your Lord. As Ritsuko said, you will tell us, one way or another.”

“I only pray that I die well,” the man said.

“Foolish,” scoffed Airi. “Perhaps you noticed the elves with us?” she asked. The Huntsman's eyes shifted to Milliea, who was watching him with a rare unhappy look on her face, fingertips tapping the hilts of her magic swords. “You should know something of elves, having captured a high priestess of elves before. Did you know that the apprentice of Celsia is among our allies? She is very unhappy with you all for harming her master, and she is even more skilled than Celsia in spell craft. One of our friends is also a dark elf with high magic skill and a bit of a thing about humans. No, your hope to die well is nothing but a fanciful wish that is impossible for you now.”

Airi paused, frowning a little before leaning over so she was closer to the man, her dress still around her waist. “But, you know, seeing you again after so long reminds me of something,” she said, smiling a little. “You seemed to hold the malformed warlock and the hag in significant disdain. As I likely hate them more, why not tell me about them? They are not your Lord, and the world would be so much better without them, wouldn't it, Huntsman?” she asked sweetly.

When Airi entered the bedroom hours later, she saw that Ritsuko was in their bed, staring blindly at the ceiling. Sighing, Airi slipped off her dress and joined her teammate in bed. “Airi, about Huntsman,” she began.

“Shh,” Airi soothed her, touching Ritsuko's lips. “I know.”

“No, I don't think you do,” sighed Ritsuko, rolling over to face Airi, her face so close to Airi's that their noses touched. “I didn't mind being called to his bedroom instead of another man's, and even now, I can't feel the same burning hatred for him that I feel for the rest of them. It isn't that I don't hate being treated like a sex toy, but it is more like…I don't know, like a girl who has sex with her ex-boyfriend even when she doesn't feel like it because it is less bothersome than not doing it. Does that make any sense to you?” she asked, sighing in aggravation.

“Actually, yes,” Airi surprised her with the answer. “I won't judge you, Ritsuko,” she said, touching her lips to Ritsuko's briefly. “Why are you explaining yourself to me?” she asked.

“I don't know,” admitted Ritsuko. “Maybe I should just start waterboarding him tomorrow morning,” she huffed in frustration.

“I won't say you can't,” Airi shared casually, “but let me tell you about the talk we had with him before you get too carried away,” smiled the woman.

The small boat landed on the bank of the river with a muted crunch of fine gravel and mud against the prow. Swiftly, five men climbed out, finding two men and seven horses waiting just a short distance inland from the river edge. Before the men were even fully into the wood, the boat pushed off and was heading back toward the opposite bank, no lanterns running even though it was in the small hours of the morning.

“My lords,” one of the men with the horses greeted the new group, bowing. “I am Sir Jeffery, Knight Lieutenant of the Allied Kingdom army, and I am at your disposal.”

“Good man,” came the distracted reply from the foremost of the new arrivals. “Let us be away from here before the rebel patrols catch us,” he ordered.

“Certainly, my lord, though the nearest outpost will not be sending out any patrols tonight,” smiled the Knight Lieutenant, easily swinging into the saddle of his horse. The others swiftly did the same.

“How would you know that, Lieutenant?” questioned another of the group.

“Because, my lord, I paid the outpost commander not to,” the man replied.

“Ah, the greed of the lower classes,” snorted the man.

“All the same, we should be away, as I have arranged for you to stay with a loyalist at his plantation about a day's ride from here while I report in detail on the situation in our enemy's territory,” replied the lieutenant, swiftly leading them away from the river by means of a very faint trail.

“Who is this other man with you, lieutenant?” asked the senior member of the new group.

“This is Greenman, the slave overseer for the plantation,” introduced the lieutenant, “but fear not, he is a loyalist as well. Aren't you, Greenman?” he asked.

“It is as you say, Master,” the man replied humbly. “I serve my master and the rightful ruler of this kingdom,” he pledged.

“As you should, slave,” grunted the man as they finally reached an actual trail. The lieutenant turned them to the left and they increased to a canter before reaching a trade road, where the group turned right under the light of the moon and stars. Looking around in the modest light, the group could see plantation fields on both sides of the road as far as they could see. It felt like home to them. Morning came, and shortly after the group stopped at a small tavern/inn at the intersection of roads. The lieutenant said that they would breakfast there, but to please keep to themselves as rebels were often to be found coming and going in such places. The party all agreed, and entered the rest house.

“Welcome!” called out the bar keep. “You are just in time! I was about to shut down the breakfast menu!” he laughed.

“Ah, excellent timing then,” the Lieutenant said. “Seven good and hearty breakfast plates, and the same number of ales.”

“Coming up, good sir,” the man said, calling into the kitchen even as he began filling tankards from the large barrels behind the bar.

“Commoner food,” muttered the senior man disdainfully. The lieutenant caught his eye, shaking his head slightly before glancing over to the far corner of the room, where four men were just finishing up tankers of ale themselves.

“Seven ales,” pronounced the bar keep, stopping in front of the table the group had settled at, both hands full of tankards, which he managed to set down without spilling anything and in records time. “Call it ten minutes for the first couple plates,” he added, nodding before headed to the table in the corner to start collecting empty plates and see if they wanted any last refills. “Anything else for you boys?” he asked.

“No, that will do,” one of the men said, tossing him some coins. “We have to get back to the fort,” he added, rising and picking up a sword and shield that had been tucked behind his chair.

“Well, I hope you have a good day,” the bar keep said. “You soldiers have done a great job so far, and I hear the negotiations are picking up speed.”

“What the Captains do is their business,” the man said, settling his sword in his belt, “but personally, I want to cross the river and get back to the job at hand.” Sounds of support came from the other men.

“When next Boss visits, tell her that,” suggested the bar keep. “Though I hear she is busy elsewhere of late,” he added.

“So they tell us,” the man said, picking up his shield and settling it on his back for carry. “She must be doing something, because the Kingdoms haven't done anything for months and now their lines are thinning. I heard a latrine rumor that the Kingdoms are falling into chaos, which sounds a lot like Boss to me.”

“Hear, hear!” laughed the others as they headed toward the door. The seven men at the table kept to themselves, but the leader of the squad still paused, looking over at them, a small frown on his face.

“Where are you from, friends?” he asked the group. The lieutenant spoke up before anyone else could.

“From the east, neighbor. Why ask?” A pair of women approached, each holding two large plates piled high with food, placing the plates in front of the four men nearest to them before immediately returning to the kitchen area.

“What news from the Captains?” he asked, watching the man.

“Last I heard, they were still in negotiations with the diplomat in the capital,” the lieutenant answered. “I heard a lieutenant of the army telling his men that Captain Rastali was re-organizing the military, when we were passing through Teswek town,” he added.

“Really? It's about damn time,” the man grunted. “Boys, we might get to cross the river yet,” he said, opening the door. “Good travels to you,” he said before moving out the door, followed by his men.

“I hope Boss is ready to move this spring,” they heard one of the men say before the door closed.

“Insolent curs,” growled one of men in the party, only to be hushed by the Lieutenant.

“Ah! The rest of the food,” the Lieutenant called jovially, seeing the women approach. After the plates were down, the women wished them a good meal and returned to the kitchen area while the bar keep cleaned up and organized the room for the next rush of customers.

The plates were all loaded with the same things: browned diced potatoes, scrambled eggs, crispy sausage cuts, a stack of bacon strips, a large biscuit and a slice of hard yellow cheese. With practiced ease, the lieutenant tore the biscuit into two parts, put a slice of sausage on one, placed the cheese over the sausage and then placed the flaky biscuit on top of the cheese before taking a bite. “This is good,” he nodded after chewing and swallowing. The others ate, three of them reluctantly.

“Thank you for the compliment,” the bar keep spoke up, catching a few of the men off guard, “I get my sausage from the plantation south of the mill. They are known for their sausages and spices. The cheese is from a cheese shop in the southern port area. The eggs are from my own chickens, and the biscuits are an old family recipe from my grandmother,” he chuckled.

“Well, it is a good recipe,” the Lieutenant inclined his head. “To your grandmother,” he said, hoisting his tankard before taking a long pull.

“I thank you for your compliment, and I am sure granny does as well,” the man replied easily. “So what line of work would you boys be in to be traveling so light between Teswek and, well, wherever else you are heading?”

“We are former plantation owners who now travel around advising the new plantation owners on how to best organize their workers to get the best results from their lands,” the Lieutenant replied easily. The bar keep's eyes narrowed slightly.

“Some of that sort, are you,” he grunted. “Former nobles?” he asked, a suspicious edge in his voice.

“Nothing of the sort, I assure you, friend,” the Lieutenant said, waving a hand. “We were commoners who inherited our plantations before the revolution. Nothing more than tax-paying citizens of the kingdoms.” The bar keep's expression warmed a bit.

“Well, nothing too unusual about that, I suppose,” he allowed. “Refill?” he asked the Lieutenant, who had just drained his tankard.

“Of course, my good man,” the young man replied, handing the bar keep his tankard before setting to work on the food on his plate. Moments later, a fresh tankard of ale was before him. In short order, the food was finished and the party was ready to leave. Most of the group stood and left without a word, but the Lieutenant made his way to the bar keep and handed over some coinage before joining the others outside, swiftly swinging into his saddle.

“You paid that…!?” began one of the party.

“Well, we best be off,” said the Lieutenant loudly, nudging his horse into action. The others followed quickly. Once they were well away from the trade house, the lieutenant turned to the man who had spoken before. “My lord, please refrain from careless talk, as we are deep in enemy territory. One wrong word and we could well be seized by the rebels - and I have seen what they do to those they consider spies and traitors,” he added, his tone ominous.

“They would dare seize us like common criminals?” came the disbelieving response.

“You are the last three surviving kings of a group of nine. You tell me, my lord,” the Lieutenant replied evenly.

“But the others fell in combat, which is much in the hands of fate,” argued the king. “Surely they would not dare seize us outside of battle,” he insisted. Commoners dared not touch royalty, after all - especially in the Southern Kingdoms with its high density of slaves.

“You underestimate them, my lord,” the Lieutenant said. “They would seize you and hang you from the nearest tree or lamp post; if you were lucky.”

“Even knowing I am a king?!” the man demanded, shocked and scandalized.

“Especially knowing you are a king,” the officer replied. “Nobles and royalty are hard to find down here lately because they are often executed for the slightest infraction of the new laws. I saw a former Baron of the Court of the capital strung up in the streets like a pickpocket for not apologizing to a woman he knocked over in the streets. Just last week, a loyalist in this very kingdom had his house burned down with him inside it for a drunken tirade against the rebels and their leader, Boss,” he said, shaking his head.

“We will hand down punishment for that when we have freed our kingdoms,” vowed another of the kings.

“Then I must ask that you watch your tongues while organizing the campaign,” the lieutenant said. “Also, it would be wise to stay within the borders of the loyalist plantation while here. He can turn away most inspections and explain away the rest, but not if you are recognized or if you leave his plantation, where he has no way of protecting you. Do you understand, my lords?” asked the lieutenant. “I will take your orders where they need to go, and escort you to the place of meeting in the southern region later, but please do not be careless in enemy territory.”

“Very well,” came the tight reply from the senior king. The knight lieutenant heaved a silent sigh of relief. For the rest of the day, their travel was relatively silent. As late afternoon arrived, they turned into the long, tree-shaded drive to the plantation house of the loyalist. Arriving, they found slaves lined up to greet them like they were accustomed to, and the plantation owner greeted them all by kissing their signet rings, welcoming them to his home.

After a decadent banquet that evening, the kings met the local loyalist of standing, discussing plans and opportunities for several hours before they retired for the night. The kings found the female house slaves waiting for them as they emerged from the library, lined up along the wall, eyes downcast. Each selected one or two before heading to the bedrooms for some relaxation. It was finally their turn.

“I do not understand the problem,” the courtier said, looking up at the Captain across from him. “We have agreed to terms, have we not?” he asked. Before them was a lengthy document containing the terms for an armistice.

“You have, but our experience with the Allied Kingdoms leadership makes us suspicious,” the Captain said calmly. “To prove their intent to honor the agreement, we insist that each and every king in the Congress of Kings read this agreement, formally ratify it in session, and affix their personal signet as proof of their agreement. Surely that is what must happen anyway, is it not?” she asked, smiling a little.

“Yes,” conceded the man, “and yet, it is customary for the document to sealed by yourself and the Captains before being delivered to the Congress for ratification,” he pointed out.

“When the terms are being offered by the losing side, perhaps,” came the reply from Rastali, who was sitting behind the female captain. “We are far from the losing side in this fight,” he grinned.

“And then there is the tendency of the Congress to modify and change the wording without our knowledge,” picked up the spokeswoman for the Captains. “This way, they cannot change anything before we ratify it. Call it a privilege of the stronger side,” she suggested, smiling nicely.

“So you ask us to risk you changing it after the signets are affixed?” argued the courtier.

“You will take this letter to the Congress, where it will be ratified and sealed, and then bring it back here. We will read the document to make sure nothing was changed and seal it in front of you. How about that? I pledge for the Rebellion that so long as nothing is changed in the document and every king affixes their signet, we will set our seals on it in front of you, with the document having never left your sight after you receive it from the Congress. Is that not fair?” she offered.

“Six kings from this area have died without heirs, and there are two more kingdoms with uncrowned heirs,” noted the courtier. “So long as that is understood, we have an agreement,” he sighed.

“We are not concerned about the six dead kings,” came the reply from the woman. “The three surviving ones are absolutely required to ratify the agreement and affix their royal signets. As for the two with uncrowned heirs, we will settle for the personal seals of the duly-appointed regent and the heir presumptive on the document. Fair enough?”

“Then it is agreed,” the courtier said, rising and bowing to the woman, who stood and nodded to him. “I will ride for the Kingdoms tomorrow morning,” he said, looking out the windows of the room and noting how late it had gotten. “Hopefully, this war will be ended before the end of next month,” he dared to hope, though he knew getting the demanded one hundred percent ratification was going to be at least as hard as getting the Rebellion to agree to any terms but their own.

“You will be escorted to the border by riders,” the woman said almost as an afterthought. “We have closed the border, so if you arrive without the escorts, you will be turned back. Likewise, you will require a pass to re-enter our territory with the sealed armistice. I will have one ready by morning,” she said, exiting the room, Rastali close behind her.

“Interesting,” murmured the old courtier. They closed their borders while negotiating. What would have prompted them to do that, I wonder? He gathered up his stuff and the agreement in preparation to depart the following morning. Exiting the room, he headed for the suite that had been set aside for him and his entourage. He didn't mind admitting he had grown comfortable while staying there, and the staff were quite skilled. Almost a year to get this far, he mused, shaking his head. And he still had to get the kings to agree to the terms. Usually, he - with the authority he had been given - would seal the armistice, but this insistence of each king personally ratifying the agreement and sealing it with their royal signets was a shrewd move; as well as revealing the level of mistrust between the rebellion and the Kingdoms.

“Sure you want to do this, Airi?” asked Ritsuko. “You probably shouldn't be seen doing this sort of thing, you know, given you are the ambassador of Raltaow and all,” pointed out the girl.

“This is personal, Rit-chan,” answered Airi. “Besides, we are going in like ninja, aren't we? Who is going to see us?” she smiled.

“I don't plan to let anyone live, but there are usually a few loose ends anyway, and I don't want more problems this close to victory,” replied the red-head tartly. Behind her, Milliea finished braiding her hair into a long, tightly-woven braid, tying it off with a length of sky-blue ribbon.

“Ready, Rit-chan!” chirped the elf girl happily. Ritsuko sighed.

“Milliea, you know we are going there on a search-and-destroy, right?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” nodded the girl.

“I will be killing people; a lot of people,” warned the red-head, racking the bolt on the M2 mounted on top of Mike's turret. The coax was already locked and loaded, as was the main cannon's magazine. “In fact, I will probably be killing everyone I see,” she warned.

“I know, but it has to be done, right?” Milliea replied, not so happy any more, but still smiling a little. Ritsuko touched the elf's cheek.

“Yes, it does,” she confirmed. Gabriella and Rapier finished checking their weapons. Annette was reviewing spells from her spell book, looking a little nervous. “Annette, all we need you to do is guard against spells from their wizard and watch for runners trying to leave. Calm down and try to focus,” advised the young woman.

“I…I know,” Annette replied. How do I find myself in these situations?! she silently screamed.

“Gabs, Rapier, remember to watch for Mike's movements, and keep the perimeter closed. Gabs, feel free to use whatever spells you want, and Rapier, we are not looking for prisoners excepting their wizard, the old crone and the nobleman. Everyone else is a target. Questions?” asked the red-head.

“None here,” Gabs replied, testing the edge of her sword with a thumb. Rapier shook her head.

“Airi, I want you to stay with Mike; use the coax and the M2 for the most part. Annette, you stick with Airi, use your magic from a distance if at all possible. You will come in from the road, and engage them from the east. Gabs, Rapier and I will position ourselves on the west, north and south, respectively. I will radio when I am in position. The plan is simple: we come in under cover of darkness and try to take the manor before they know we are there. If succeed, we clear the manor and move to the slave center. If we are detected early, Rapier and Gabs secure the slave center until we have destroyed the manor - which shouldn't be too long, since if we are detected early, stealth is no longer a problem and I will just blow the damn thing up with the main cannon,” purred Ritsuko.

“And if we are successful?” asked Rapier.

“We will peel the security like an apple, secure the targets we want if present and kill the rest before dealing with the slave center. The slave center will be a bit different, but still the same template. Given its fortified nature, Mike will need to deal with the door and/or walls to give us safe entry. Once in there, I will clear the area with support from Milliea and Gabs while the rest protect our perimeter with Mike. Same thing for targets in the slave center as in the manor. We only want those three, the rest are dead men walking.”

“And the slaves?” asked Airi.

“If they fight us, kill them. If they don't, we will figure something out afterwards,” Ritsuko said quietly.

“Are we going to recon the area first?” asked Rapier.

“As much as we can. I do not want this asshole slipping away. He might be spooked by Huntsman not returning, or he might not be - either way, I won't give him more time than he has already had,” bit out the girl. “Mike, let's go,” she directed, the tank rumbling along through underbrush as it moved closer. Ritsuko would keep a ridge between her and the manor until they were in position. Looking up at the afternoon sky, she hoped the clouds would turn into a rain storm or even thunderstorm.

When she stopped Mike, the sun was obscured by clouds and it felt like rain. Ritsuko, Gabriella and Rapier hopped off the tank, Ritsuko checking the radio link before the three climbed the hill that would let them slip into position. When they reached the top of the hill, Ritsuko paused to use her binoculars to scan the manor and the grounds. “Airi, there is a light on in the target's study,” she radioed the tank.

“Are you sure?” Airi asked.

“Given how much time I spent in there on my knees or bent over his desk, yes,” hissed back the younger woman.

“Can you see him?” asked Airi.

“No, but the curtains are drawn,” reported the leader of the raid. “We're going in,” she added, making her decision when she saw that a group of slaves were making ready a carriage. “Looks like he is planning to go somewhere, and I would hate to miss our meeting with him.”

“Agreed,” Airi came back. “Give me the word, and we are there, full throttle.”

“Roger that,” Ritsuko radioed back. She turned her attention to the two elves. “We're going in. Stealth and speed. If things go sideways, don't worry about me - follow the plan.”

“Good luck,” Gabriella said before she and Rapier vanished silently.

“I make my own luck,” muttered Ritsuko, checking her guns by feel before lowering her night vision glasses as the first drops of rain fell. She swiftly yet carefully worked her way down the hill, catching sight of Gabriella at the edges of her night vision range, the dark elf slicing two guards down mid-stride without them ever knowing she was there. Ritsuko nodded to herself, easing up behind the stables and drawing her sheath knife before slipping into the barn.

With the now-heavy rain covering her sounds, it was simple for Ritsuko to dispose of the slaves readying the carriage. She remembered them as loyal to the nobleman, so she didn't even try to subdue them. With that done, she sliced up all the harnesses and reins in the tack room, going the extra measure to also break the front wheel spokes of the carriage by using a board she found near the hay loft as a fulcrum.

Carriage disabled, she eased the doors to the stable shut and exited the rear, using it to cover her approach to the house. Looking over the area where the garden was, she spotted four crumpled forms as well as getting a glimpse of Rapier ducking around the edge of the gazebo structure, heading for the small building where the house slaves stayed. Looking the other way, Ritsuko didn't see any sign of Gabriella, but she did spot a fallen guard farther back on the road to the slave center.

Ritsuko moved forward, toward the house. Reaching the side entrance - the one that led to the kitchen - she entered, knife in one hand, pistol in the other. Seeing the kitchen was empty, she holstered her gun and edged forward. The sound of a kettle whistling alerted her to company, and she ducked into the pantry. Moments later, a kitchen girl older than her stepped past her, and Ritsuko shadowed her, knife ready. The instant that the woman set the kettle off the stove, Ritsuko struck her behind the ear with the haft of her knife, knocking her out. Moments later, the woman was stuffed into the pantry, bound and gagged. Ritsuko moved forward again, systematically clearing the first floor.

Satisfied that the slaves were either dead or unconscious, she radioed Airi, and began to move upstairs. Ritsuko was nearing the top of the stairs when a female house slave rounded the corner and screamed in terror. The red-head didn't hesitate, lunging forward with her knife. The woman was screaming for help as she stumbled backward, the knife narrowly missing her. Snarling behind her head-wrap, Ritsuko flipped the knife, sheathing it even as her other hand snatched the pistol from her belt. She heard a door bang open just as she squeezed the trigger, silencing the slave.

Taking a two-handed grip, Ritsuko turned toward the sound of shouting and began to reduce the combatants swiftly and brutally. “Airi, we're going hot. Cut down anyone trying to run!” she yelled into the radio as she swapped mags.

“Got it,” Airi confirmed, and a moment later, she heard a couple of short bursts from the coax. Pushing up off her knees, she moved forward toward the study, gun up. Reaching the door, she kicked it off its hinges before pivoting into the room.

The nobleman's house carl swung a fireplace poker at her, but she was outside his range, while her pistol had no problem reaching him, two shots to his knees brought him down. Ritsuko cleared the room, but didn't find the nobleman. “Where is the nobleman?!” she yelled at him, stepping on a ruined knee. The carl screamed and flailed around, but didn't answer. Ritsuko kicked him in the head, knocking him out before hurrying to clear the rest of the house. She didn't find him, the mage or the old woman; not that she expected to find them here - they were usually at the slave center. Returning to the house carl, she found him dead. “Shit,” she muttered before quickly searching the desk and for anything of use. Nothing finding anything useful, she grab an oil lamp off the table and smashing it against the desk, soaking it in oil. Moving out of the room, she systematically smashed the lamps all over the place before exiting the front door. Turning back, she ignited a pencil flare and tossed it into the nearest puddle of lamp oil, seeing the flames spread swiftly along the floor and to the walls. “Burn in hell,” she muttered.

Ritsuko heard Mike approach and jumped up onto him. “Slave center,” she ordered, the tank starting forward again as she heard distant thunder. A smile touched her lips behind the cloth covering all of her face but her eyes. Airi was similarly dressed. Rapier and Gabriella joined them as they came into view of the slave center. “Ok, Annette, the wizard is likely in there, so once Mike opens the doors for us, block his magic,” ordered Ritsuko, getting a nod from the priestess. Ritsuko pulled a grenade from a rack by the commander's station. “Been saving you, big boy,” purred the girl, clipping it to her gear. “Ears, everyone,” ordered Ritsuko. A moment later, she aimed the cannon herself and pulled the trigger. “Knock, knock,” she murmured as the cannon recoiled, the high explosive round blowing the gates and a good section of the walls away.

The group rushed the slave center, swiftly cutting down all opposition. Reaching the rooms, Ritsuko headed straight for the wizard's room, pulling the pin on the grenade before kicking the door in and tossing the grenade. Ducking back away, she heard the boom and saw the flash of light from the flash/bang grenade. Spinning back, she entered the room, seeing the stunned wizard trying to recover from the shock, a young girl sprawled out on the floor, another one in his bed and a third in a corner. Ritsuko brought the butt of her G36 around, catching him in the jaw and knocking the wizard out. “Wizard down, secure him,” she radioed, and a moment later, Milliea and Airi entered the room.

“Rit-chan,” gasped Airi, seeing the girls.

“Later,” came the harsh reply. “Secure that shit and take him to Mike,” she ordered, moving out. “Old hag is next,” she purred, moving down the hall, stopping to fire twice, killing more staff. Reaching the `office', she found the door locked. Sneering, she used two short bursts to shatter the hinges then kicked the door in. The old slaver was huddled in a corner. “Well, well, we meet again,” growled Ritsuko, marching over to her. As she neared the desk, she stopped, glancing at the desk before putting a short burst into the bottom center, getting cries before she heard a body hit the floor. Stepping around, she saw a staff member crumpled there, still moving a little. She put a round into his head without pausing. Grabbing the old woman, Ritsuko jerked her to her feet before slamming her into the desk top.

“Isn't it nice to meet old friends?” she asked using her grip on the old hag's hair to pull her off the desk top before she slammed her into the floor. “You can't imagine how happy I am to find you in good health,” she continued, her boots stomping down on the woman's instep, crushing it before she backhanded the old slaver with her combat gloves. The woman hit the floor again hard, not moving. From a pocket of her fatigues, she pulled out some tape and swiftly secured the woman before dragging her out of the room, down the hall and then across the courtyard - where she had been flogged nude many times during her `breaking' by the old hag - and out the ruined gate.

The pouring rain brought her back around quick enough, only for her to find out the ordeal was not a nightmare at all, but real. Behind her, fire was coming from much of the slave center she had run for decades, and around here were dead bodies and living former slaves. “I…!” she began only to be backhanded hard enough to break some of her teeth.

“You will speak when ordered to, bitch,” snarled Ritsuko. “First, what is the name and rank of the nobleman who owns you?” she ordered. The old woman blinked. Not getting an answer, Ritsuko stomped on her other foot, shattering it, too. “Name!” thundered Ritsuko.

“Baron Eustece of the Haliol nobility,” the woman panted out.

“Where did he go?” ordered Ritsuko.

“He is at the manor,” she began only to have Ritsuko kick her hip, breaking it.

“Stop lying,” snarled the younger woman. “We tore that house down, and he wasn't there. Where did he go?”

“He said he was going home!” she protested, crying. Ritsuko growled, her boot finding the woman's short ribs. “Mercy! Spare a poor old woman,” she begged.

“Mercy? You have never had any when others begged you for it, so you will receive none now,” stated Airi. “As for poor, well, you certainly are now, but before that, you grew rich off other's suffering.”

“Why are you doing this?” she sobbed. Ritsuko removed her head covering.

“Didn't I tell you? We are old friends,” she purred. “Though, these days I go by the name `Boss',” she added. The woman turned white.

“We told you years ago that we would be back to settle the score,” Airi said, removing her head covering as well. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Spare me, and I will give you all that I have,” begged the woman.

“We don't want or need it,” Ritsuko replied indifferently. “But we will give all the gold and valuables we find to the slaves who you have not yet broken. Doesn't that make you feel better?” asked the red-head sweetly.

“I have a family,” the woman wheezed out.

“Bullshit,” denied Ritsuko.

“It is true, I swear it! I have a son, two grandchildren and three great grandchildren,” insisted the woman. “Don't rob them of their helpless grandmother.”

“And where would these wretched creatures be? What are their names?” challenged Ritsuko, pulling out a length of rope and beginning to knot it. The old woman began to babble. “Well, that will help us hunt them down and kill them,” smiled Ritsuko, finishing the noose.

“You can't!” wailed the old woman, trying to grab at Ritsuko, who just kicked her back into the mud.

“I can do whatever the fuck I like, hag,” she snarled. “Decades of living off the suffering of others, and you think no one can repay that? Enjoy hell,” she said, fitting the noose around the woman's thin neck. The old woman began to convulse before going limp.

“Heart failure or stroke?” wondered Airi.

“Who cares?” asked Ritsuko, shooting her in the head for good measure. “Now, for you,” she purred, turning to the magician. The magician didn't react. Turning his head, she shone the beam of her flashlight on him. “Damn it, he can't hear us,” she swore, seeing blood running from his ears. She clubbed him behind the ear, sending him unconscious again.

“Rit-chan, about those girls,” Airi said.

“The one in the corner was already dead,” Ritsuko muttered. “Looks like this creep was paid in girls,” she grunted, kicking the magic user. “The one on the bed is probably never going to be all right, if he was doing what it looked like he was doing. No idea about the last one, but I doubt she is any better.”

Airi was silent, having come to very similar conclusions after a quick check of the girls. “And the rest of the slaves?” asked the actress. Ritsuko grunted.

“Annette, put a sleep spell on this piece of shit,” she ordered, the priestess doing as asked while Ritsuko used her duct tape to thoroughly bind him, including covering his eyes and taping his mouth shut before she, Milliea and Gabriella heaved him onto the back of Mike and tied him in place. “Let's go find out,” Ritsuko said, leading the way back into the ruined slave center.

Half an hour later, they had a group of slaves that were only partially broken, a group of slaves that were totally broken but not loyal to the nobleman, and a group of slaves that were unsalvageable. After a rather heated council between the primaries, it was decided that they would chain a couple wagons behind Mike, drop the unsalvageable ones on the edge of town with most of the broken ones to seek help and shelter from the local religious orders, and give the rest free reign to decide on their own what they wanted to do.

Ritsuko jumped up on the small dais that the head of the center used to use to survey the slaves being broken in the yard and fired a shot into the air. “My name is Boss,” she said, projecting her voice a little. “I am the leader of the slave rebellion in what was once the Southern Kingdoms but is now the Liberated Country. Though I have freed you, I have no use for you, so you are free to do as you like. There is a slave rebellion in the Northern Kingdoms if you want to fight, but I advise that you don't. You are welcome in the Liberated Country, but we are currently blockaded by the Alliance Military, so getting in would be dangerous. You can return to your previous lives or not, as you choose. From this moment on, you are responsible for yourselves. Do as you will, but you cannot stay here because I am going to raze this entire place to the fucking ground. We have found the gold the nobleman had and will give each of you a handful to help you get where you need to go. Line up, and as you pass through the gate, take your handful of gold,” she ordered. The former slaves did so, finding that this woman scared them more than the thought of being a slave.

A half hour later, the compound was empty, and Ritsuko used some training rounds and Mike's armored hull to turn it all into rubble. Going back to the manor for the carts, they found the main house in flames, which cheered the women up immensely. Once the carts were out, Ritsuko fired all the other buildings before they loaded up the broken slaves and drove off in the rain, leaving nothing of use behind them.

The Congress was busy yelling at each other heatedly. The courtier had delivered the treaty to them, explained the requirements of the Rebellion, and then removed himself, citing his age and the hardships of the journey. He didn't need to be there to see monarchs act like petulant children, after all - he was a courtier and got to see that every day. Naturally, the yelling had erupted before the first sentence of the first item of the terms was even finished.

That had been a week ago. In that time, the assembly of kings had agreed on exactly one thing: the terms were outrageous and ridiculous and absolutely insulting. However, a growing faction of kings - led by the Western Kingdoms monarch who had treated the entire campaign as a business venture - had decided that it was less costly to agree, and had been steadily breaking down the resistance, one item at a time. It was a very prolonged process.

What most delayed their efforts were the missing Southern Kingdoms monarchs. The Rebellion had stipulated that every king must ratify and seal the agreement, or it was invalid and things would go on; likely in a worse manner for the kingdoms, which was seeing a steadily-growing level of unrest, resentment toward the kings and a corresponding lack of tax revenue. In some kingdoms, it was so bad that nobles refused to leave their homes, surrounding themselves with trusted (or mercenary) fighters. This, naturally, caused greater unrest as the rule of law suffered, which fueled the resentment of the subjects, who lashed out at the nobility, who grew more entrenched in their increasingly under siege estates. It was a vicious cycle, and something seemed to be spurring it on.

Then there was the news that had arrived two days before. Seems a rumor was spreading like a wildfire that a nobleman's estate had been sacked, burned and left in total ruin by what the popular rumors claimed was the shadowy `Boss' of the Rebellion. The king of that kingdom had sent a patrol, who had confirmed the entire estate was absolutely destroyed, not a building left standing, with bodies scattered here and there, and some bone fragments in the ashes of what had been the estate. Even the vineyard, garden, chicken coops and fruit trees had been flattened by some strange creature. What they had only told their monarch was that someone had carved `Boss was here' into the tree nearest the gate that led to the former estate.

Not that the rumor mill cared. The source of the rumor turned out to be some kidnapped subjects, who told lurid tales of almost being made into slaves and outlandish tales of their deliverance by a ten-foot tall red-headed Amazon sorceress who could destroy a manor just by yelling at it and who - apparently - pissed brimstone and shit lightning bolts. Her gaze alone, the rumor had it, could slay a dozen men at a hundred paces before they could even avert their eyes. Not that many would, if the rumor was to be believed about her going into battle naked save for a cape made from the skins of her slain enemies.

Naturally, the kings were concerned about this rumor's swift and wide spread among the peasants and citizens. It probably wasn't true, but the evidence was mounting that the military had not killed the rebel leader as it had been claiming for more than a year now. What was not in doubt was that the Rebellion had somehow penetrated the other kingdoms. More than a few kings wanted to discuss plans about how to stop this rather than agree to an armistice. So, the faction had their work cut out for them, steering their less fiscally-minded brothers toward the only logical and rational solution: an armistice with the Rebellion.

The vigorous debate of the kings was interrupted by the doors to the Congress opening and a military messenger running to the military liaison, who had been trying to build support for a military push. Saluting, the messenger had handed him a sealed dispatch tube, which he opened. One by one, the kings fell silent as they recognized the significance of what was going on at the Military Liaison seat. The Field Marshall who sat in that chair jerked to his feet, swearing as he read the message.

“Do share with us, my good Field Marshall,” the chairman of the Congress said, tapping his gavel twice.

“There has been an attack,” the Field Marshall said.

“The Rebellion attacked?” blinked the Chairman.

“No, one of our military district commanders ordered a full assault on the Rebellion's lines. Apparently, he managed to penetrate almost a mile before his entire force was torn to pieces. Less than one soldier in ten returned, with most of them heavily injured. We have a gap in the lines that stretches from the town of Ha'lixa to the Languid River! Who ordered this attack?!” screamed the Field Marshall, frantically digging through maps before beginning to trace routes and positions.

“Did the Rebellion attempt to counter-attack?” asked a king whose kingdom was next to the new breach.

“There is no word beyond the loss of an entire army section,” growled the Field Marshall. “But given the report, I doubt whatever men are left there could stop a weak fart!” he added hotly. “Messenger!” The messenger saluted again. “I have no time for a written order, but you must ride hard to the commanders of the sections on either flank and on my authority, order them to close that gap in our lines by any means necessary! Are the orders clear?” he demanded.

“Yes, Field Marshall!” the messenger yelled before running from the room.

“You majesties, I require five companies of infantry, three companies of cavalry and two companies of engineers from the kingdoms nearest the breech immediately if you don't want to find the Rebellion attending this meeting next month.”

“That would strip my kingdom of every able-bodied man between the age of fifteen and fifty!” yelled back the king of the kingdom directly above the breached kingdom.

“Better that than to lose your crown, is it not?” shot back the field marshal. “I remind you that the rebellion conquered nine kingdoms in six months with a slave army. They have had two years to practice and organize and plan. What do you think they can do now?” he asked.

“Let's calm down and think about this rationally,” another king spoke up. “We were given to understand that if the Rebellion attacked, they would lose the advantage of defense and would be inevitably defeated. Why are you now saying differently?”

“Because before, they would have faced a prepared, fully-garrisoned defensive line,” bit out the field Marshall. “Now, there are not only too few men to man the defensive works, but they are in no condition to fight. A group of grandmothers with cooking spoons could defeat them as they are now.”

“We have an armistice proposal before us right now. Why no simply form a new line further back and avoid a costly fight and a great amount of logistical labor by presenting a political solution?” questioned another king.

“Now that the bottle is broken, the Rebellion will storm into the Kingdoms and do here what they did in the Southern Kingdoms,” the field Marshall predicted. “The armistice proposal is moot now, as the fighting has resumed.”

“I am not so sure,” disagreed the chairman. “It is far from uncommon for skirmishes and even battles to occur even as negotiations are on-going. Why should this be any different?”

“They are not professional soldiers,” disagreed the field Marshall. “Real soldiers understand such things, but slaves do not. They have a chance now, so they will take it even at the expense of negotiating.”

“Their leader seems quite versed on military tactics, and has led a flawless campaign to date. Why would it change now?” challenged the chairman. The field Marshall grumbled a little under his breath.

“Our spies indicate that their leadership is overly-sensitive to what it perceives to be nefarious actions on the part of their enemies. The attack on their lines would be perceived as our deliberately attempting to catch them flat-footed, and they would seek to punish us for such a thing. Their actions with the nobles of the Southern Kingdoms bear this out.”

“What if we were to offer them the general who ordered the attack?” suggested a Northern Kingdoms king. “After all, we did not authorize an attack, nor did he clear any such action with the other army sections, or they would have supported his drive, would they have not?”

“We can't simply hand over a general to them…!” protested the field Marshall.

“We can, in fact, do just that,” warned the chairman. “Or even a field Marshall,” he added, his tone dangerous. The field Marshall blinked.

“I had nothing to do with this attack!” he protested.

“Then why do you defend the general who ordered one without permission?” wondered a king from the Eastern Kingdoms.

The chairman banged his gavel twice. “For now, throw what units we can into a new defensive line. And I want the name of the general who ordered this attack. If he is alive, he is to be brought to us - in chains,” ordered the chairman, getting nods from the vast majority of the kings. “In the meantime, I want a page to run to the Temple of Celsia and request that the high priestess Annette come see us at her earliest possible convenience. Give him a pouch of gold royals and tell the page to make a sizeable donation to the temple as well when he requests the meeting,” the king directed.

“What are you doing?” wondered a Central Kingdoms king.

“Probably the best thing we can do to keep this under control: I am going to have the elves be our buffer,” he said. “She talked them into negotiating once before, so I am hoping for a second miracle. It seems to me that she gets along well with the Rebellion leadership. Perhaps she might even convince them to stay on their side of the river until we can get the armistice ratified,” he dared to hope.

“That would take a miracle now,” muttered the field Marshall.

Junpei wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He had crossed two of the three passes leading to Raltaow, and was feeling the burn of altitude and heavy climbing. Looking down into the valley, he spotted a small settlement with a clear, swift-running river by it. Smiling, he hurried his steps, glad to be going downhill once more. It would have been easier if the idiots at the guard shack had just let him through, but whatever. It wasn't like he couldn't handle a dozen or so guards.

It took him the better part of two hours to reach the valley floor, and by then, he was ready to call it a night. Seeing another pair of guards at the only bridge over the roaring stream, he sighed. Well, maybe they would let him through. Walking up to them, he waved a hand. “Hi,” he greeted them.

“State your business,” commanded a guard, eyeing the white-leather-clad fighter.

“I'm looking for the Chancellor,” he said.

“What business would you have with the Chancellor?” asked the second guard.

“Well, I need to kill her and kidnap a slave that was sold to the palace here several years ago,” replied Junpei honestly. Predictably, the two guards snapped into fighting stances and yelled for their friends, who came running. “Look, guys, this is getting boring,” Junpei tried negotiating. “In the end, I'll go to the capital or wherever this Chancellor woman is, and you will be beat up or dead. So why not just stand aside and keep your health?” he suggested. “I only want to kill the Chancellor and steal that slave back, you know.”

“You will never get near the Chancellor or our Queen, you assassin!” yelled the sergeant of the guards, three of them rushing him, spears ready. Junpei sighed.

“Have it your way,” he said, dropping fluidly into his fighting stance. Less than two minutes later, he was walking through the town, a dozen guards unconscious in front of and on the bridge. The people who lived in the town watched him with silent stares. “I tried to tell them,” Junpei addressed the silent watchers. “Anyway, where is the local tavern?” he asked. No one said anything, but several pointed. Junpei's stomach growled as he smiled. “Thanks!”

Banging open the door, he surveyed the room for a moment before heading to the bar. Sitting down, he ordered a beer and the biggest curry plate they had. The tavern keeper was understandably confused, so after a long and puzzling exchange, Junpei settled for ale and a plate of meat and potatoes. The big fighter headed to a table and sat down, wondering what the food would taste like this time. He hadn't even taken the first bite before the door opened and a trio of large men entered.

Spotting him, they made right for him, stopping in front of the table. The biggest of the three leaned forward, thrusting his face in front of Junpei's face. “You're at our table, stranger,” he grunted.

“Find another,” Junpei said, barely looking at him as he sniffed the food.

“How about you find another tavern?” growled the big man, swiping at Junpei with a ham-sized hand. To his surprise, Junpei caught the hand, twisting it back and under into a joint lock. With one hand, he forced the man to his knees.

“I like this tavern and this seat,” Junpei said, still barely glancing at the big man. “Why don't you go find another tavern?” The white-clad fighter increased the pressure on the joint lock, making the man whimper.

“You wanna fight?!” yelled the other two, raising their fists.

“No, I want to eat, get a good night's sleep, then find the Chancellor,” he answered, taking a small bite of the food. “Man, it still doesn't taste right,” he complained even as the two both swung at him. In less than ten seconds, all three were outside, unconscious while Junpei was sipping his ale as he shook his head. “Sorry about the door,” he apologized to the tavern keeper. “Put it and my meal on their tab,” he added, returning to the table and sitting down again. Everyone in the tavern stared at him silently. It took the tavern a good ten minutes before the conversations slowly, carefully started up.

By the time that Junpei had finished up his food and was draining the last of his ale, the tavern was almost back to normal. As Junpei placed his hands on the table in preparation to rise, the door opened and five people entered, all cloaked. “I don't know who might be behind it, but we need to find them,” one was saying to the others as they entered. “Let's grab some food and push straight through to the capital. Mike can outrun anyone over the passes, and we can beat whoever it is there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” another answered.

“Chancellor, so good to see you again,” the tavern keeper greeted one of the group. Junpei's head shot up.

“Chancellor?” he said, smiling. “Nothing personal, but I need to kill you,” he said, leaping at the group. He was surprised when two of the group intercepted him, blocking both his attack and his counter to the block. He flipped back from them.

“Junpei,” snarled one of the group, throwing back their hood to reveal red hair tightly braided into a long tail. He recognized her.

“And Boss, too,” he said, nodding. “Finally, some good luck,” he muttered. “Now I just need to kill you two and find the slaves,” he shared. The red-head tossed her cloak back over her shoulders, revealing a rifle strapped to her body.

“Not going to happen, you muscle-headed jerk,” she spat, bringing the rifle up.

“Rit-chan,” hissed the woman next to her, throwing her hand on top of the rifle, pushing it back down. “You know he isn't himself,” chided the woman.

“I will never be taken like that again,” growled Ritsuko. “Even if I have to shoot him,” she added darkly.

“You say that like it is so simple,” Junpei interjected, eyes on the two figures in front of him, blocking his access to the women. Both pushed back their hoods as well.

“But it is, Junpei,” one of the women said. Junpei frowned. She was a dark-skinned elf with red hair, wearing a fur bikini. For some reason, he felt he should know her. The second fighter was a black-haired elf woman with pale skin, wearing a dark-blue strapless top with black pants.

“We have been looking forward to our re-match,” the second elf woman said. Again, Junpei really felt he should remember her.

“You two seem sort of familiar to me, and I can tell you are good fighters just by looking at you,” he said, “but I don't have time for that right now.”

“You really should make the time,” warned the red-headed elf woman. Junpei saw the last member of the party open her cloak to reveal armor and two swords. She, too was an elf, though with short red hair and light skin.

“Do you really have to do this?” she asked the group at large.

“Yes,” came the unified reply from all of them, including Junpei.

“While I would love to see if I have improved enough to kick your ass, we have other business to deal with,” the dark-skinned elf said, bringing her hands up as she chanted under her breath.

“And without Celsia protecting you from magic, you are vulnerable,” the black-haired elf smiled. Junpei blinked.

“Damn it, it's swords and sorcery here!” he recalled, leaping at the two women behind the fighters even as his vision went dark. He heard a sharp, piercing crack! and felt a burning sting in his leg before he lost consciousness.

“Ritsuko!” was the last thing he heard.

“I see. What else?” asked Annette, staring at the kings.

“Is that not enough?” asked a king, under his breath but more than loud enough to her ears.

“This is a human matter, gentlemen,” Annette replied crisply. “We elves want no part of it, and yet you keep asking us to get involved. Such behavior is…unseemly,” she hinted.

“We only ask you to try to save lives,” the chairman insisted. “While the armistice is being ratified, it would be a pure tragedy to have more lives lost on both sides, would it not?”

“Human lives,” Annette responded before sighing. “I can't promise anything, but I will try,” she said. “Not for your sake, mind you,” she warned when the kings started to express relief, “but because I cannot have the fighting spilling into elven communities. There will, however, be a price for this aide,” she cautioned, smiling a little. To a man, the kings winced.

Ritsuko closed the door behind her before sighing. Airi glanced over at her. “You ok, Ritsuko?” she asked softly, touching the younger woman's shoulder.

“I guess,” Ritsuko replied. “Things are just getting too complicated lately, is all,” she half-explained.

“I suppose so,” Airi allowed. “There are many ways that could be taken, too,” hinted the actress. The two made their way to their private suite.

“Huntsman, Junpei, that damned nobleman, the rebellion…it's just getting complicated,” Ritsuko said, shrugging off the simple dress she had worn before pushing back the covers of the bed. Airi removed her own dress while Ritsuko slipped into the bed.

“What do you plan to do about it?” she asked, joining her teammate.

“Whatever I can,” came the unhappy reply even as Hecate blew out the lamps before exiting the bedroom. “That reminds me, are we still doing that thing with the Queen tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“It would be best, yes,” Airi agreed. “What are your thoughts about Huntsman?” asked the actress, drawing Ritsuko to her, the red-head settling against her comfortably.

“You would have to ask that,” grumbled Ritsuko.

“As I see it, there are three options for him,” Airi began, her tone thoughtful. “First, we could kill him if we have what we need from him,” began the woman. Ritsuko made a sound, but didn't say anything. “Second, we could exile him somewhere far away. Say, the land to the south of here,” hinted the woman. Ritsuko made no sound. “And finally, we could use him as a tool,” she suggested. Ritsuko twitched at that.

“Use him how?” Ritsuko asked. Airi hummed.

“Eventually, there will be a need for our queen to have a consort, and if your basic plan unfolds correctly, you could well find yourself a queen as well - of the entire continent! You would be under immense pressure to find a consort as well in that scenario. And you did say you didn't hate him personally, didn't you?”

“I want to hate him, Airi!” snarled Ritsuko. “I should hate him,” she added.

“Probably,” agreed Airi. “But you don't, which means we have the option of using him,” she argued.

“I won't lie and say he wasn't without skill in bed,” Ritsuko said quietly, “but that doesn't mean I will spread my legs for him ever again,” warned the young woman. “And I will never allow him the chance at happiness ever again, after what he did last time!” she added through clenched teeth.

“Most state weddings are devoid of most such feelings,” Airi suggested. “In fact, most arranged marriages of royalty are based more for political reasons than anything else. The father of the queen's marriage to her mother is proof of that.”

“No doubt, with what happened to you here,” snorted Ritsuko. Airi hummed, but said nothing.

“You could always make him a eunuch,” she said several minutes later.

“Thought about that, actually,” Ritsuko answered her. “In fact, I almost did that when I first captured him, but Milliea stopped me,” she explained.

“I don't know that Milliea did you any favors there,” Airi suggested.

“I know she didn't,” came the truculent answer.

“How is your relationship with Milliea, Rit-chan?”

“It's good,” came the immediate response. “Even if she is much older than me, she is like a little sister to me. I like her,” admitted Ritsuko.

“I see,” Airi mused. “So, what are your thoughts on castrating Huntsman?” she returned to the original topic.

“I'd rather kill him than leave him in a position where he could stab us in the back,” she murmured.

“Well, there's the answer,” pushed Airi, curious why Ritsuko was hesitating, given how quick she was to shoot lately.

“I can't make myself hate him that easily,” admitted Ritsuko. “It isn't the same as being in a fight, or attacking an enemy position. It would be an execution, and I haven't done that before; not like this.”

Airi hugged the girl tightly. “I am glad to hear that, Ritsuko,” she said, pressing a kiss to Ritsuko's forehead.

“I once read that a savage kills for sport, a coward kills from fear and a fool kills from hate, but in practice it isn't that simple. I think the ones that can kill without any of those emotions is the kind that doesn't go crazy,” confided Ritsuko.

“Or they are already insane,” countered Airi. “Sociopaths don't feel any of those emotions when they kill, and I would hardly class them sane.”

“I know,” whispered Ritsuko, pressing her face to Airi's breasts. “And that scares me, because I think I am turning into that. Every time I see Huntsman, I am reminded of how close we have become in some ways.”

“No, Ritsuko, you are not like him; not yet, and not if I can help it,” vowed Airi. “If necessary, I will kill him,” she promised.

“No, Airi. You have never killed with your own hands, and I won't make you do that just to spare me my emotions. He's my problem, I will handle it,” she said softly.

“On a different note, I think we can salvage Junpei,” Airi shared.

Ritsuko snorted. “What's to salvage? He only had two brain cells to start with, and it looks like that twisted little ass-gnome damaged both of them,” giggled Ritsuko.

“Well, you did shoot him,” pointed out Airi.

“He deserved it,” came the immediate response. “How can we trust him now that we know that he has been compromised?”

“Because if I understand what Annette said before she took off with the air narwhale, the spell used depends on warping the intelligence of the subject, and that the spell is known to be unreliable with idiots,” smiled Airi.

A laugh came from Ritsuko. “Junpei is the poster boy for idiots,” she snarked. “But how do we break it?” she wondered.

“Actually, I believe this is a job for me,” smiled the actress. Ritsuko hummed.

“Given his fixation with you, I think you might be on to something with that,” allowed the younger girl.

“With what the mage told Annette about the slave rune, she should have everything ready to remove them from us in about two weeks,” the actress reminded her temperamental friend.

“I guess there is that,” Ritsuko allowed. “I still think he got off light,” she added. The mage had died under their interrogation; likely from the things Ritsuko had planned for him and her lavish descriptions of what she would do to him. Airi knew some of it made her feel sick, and a couple had made Huntsman wet himself in terror. Their first captive had been `invited' to witness their interrogations as a motivational tool. He had told them literally everything he ever knew or heard about the nobleman after the mage had died and Ritsuko had turned her wrath on him. It wasn't much, but it was all he know. “Now, we just need the shit-king nobleman,” murmured Ritsuko.

Almost a half hour passed in silence before Airi spoke up. She knew Ritsuko was awake. “Rit-chan, have you given some thought to the possibility that we might never get home?” she asked quietly. The twitch of the young red-head in her arms answered that question. “You have,” stated Airi.

“Of course I have,” whispered Ritsuko. “But I want to go home, and this place isn't home,” she added, Airi feeling hot tears on her breasts.

“I know,” she murmured, stroking the younger woman's hair. “But I know that you know that we don't always get what we want.” A rough snort was her only answer to that. “And if we can't have what we want, we have to make do with what we have, do we not?” She continued to caress and hug Ritsuko for nearly an hour before she felt the tears dry.

“What's your plan, then?” came the rough whisper of the red-head.

“I think you have a pretty good idea, given my role here,” Airi smiled a little.

“Yeah, I sort of figured. You planning to turn Raltaow into your own version of home?” she wondered. Airi sighed.

“That was the plan if I couldn't find you and the others. But while I suspected you would slip your bonds, I admit I underestimated your solution,” admitted the actress. Ritsuko snickered. “What thoughts did you have on the future should we not be able to return to our home? Is the Rebellion part of that?” wondered the raven-haired actress.

“It was more of a self-protection deal at first, but I think I might need them if we can't get home,” Ritsuko said unhappily. “Obviously, if we don't want to spend our lives looking over our shoulders, we need to permanently end slavery, and this whole monarchy setup is wonky, too, so it probably needs to go; at least in terms of the current form of it. I should be able to destroy that pretty quick, once the nobleman is dealt with,” she added, a dark undertone bleeding through at the end. “When we were hunting elves, we went easy on them. I think they might understand some small measure of that now,” she almost bragged.

“Speaking of elves, what are your thoughts on them?” Airi asked.

Ritsuko sighed. “Much as I like certain of them, they are probably better off remaining separate and aloof from the humans here. Ultimately, the mixing of the two would prove bloody and probably doom the elves to extinction,” predicted the red-head.

“Mixing? Do you think you might find an Elven man you fancy?” teased Airi. To her surprise, Ritsuko shrugged.

“Who knows?” was all she said. “What about you? Some king or nobleman going to become your consort or lover?” pressed Ritsuko.

“As a certain friend said recently, `who knows?'” teased Airi. “But they seem to have competition already for my bed,” she laughed softly. The young woman in her arms stilled for a moment.

“I can kick any of their asses,” pronounced the red-head a moment later. “In bed or out,” she added. Airi felt the body in her arms growing a bit warmer. “But don't worry, Airi,” she added softly, pressing her face to Airi's neck, “I'm never going to be the jealous type,” she assured the actress. Silence fell, Ritsuko drifting off to sleep as Airi puzzled what Ritsuko might have meant by that remark until she, too, fell asleep.

“Ride! Ride like you have never ridden before!” screamed the lieutenant, spurring his horse harder after glancing behind them. “They gain on us, my lords, and if they catch us, we'll be lucky to just hang!” he warned the three behind him, who were also desperately spurring their horses. A few hundred yards behind was another group of horsemen, chasing them with even more passion than they were running away with.

“Where are the others?” called the man closest behind the lieutenant.

“Dead or captured,” snarled the lieutenant. He grimaced as he judged the condition of his horse. It was almost spent, and they were nowhere close to escaping from their pursuers. We need fresh horses; or at least a diversion to rest these, he thought grimly, looking around. “Turn here!” he called, flicking his reins to direct his horse down a small side-road. The three behind him followed him. A mile further in, as their horses began to falter, the knight lieutenant saw the wide, lazy-looking river before them. “Into the river!” he yelled, kicking his horse to force it to jump the low rail. Behind him, the other three did the same, landing in the tepid, dark brown water.

Once he surfaced, the young officer kicked his feet free of the stirrups. “Get away from the horses and swim downstream as hard as you can,” he said, beginning to stroke along with the current. The horses tiredly struggled to reach ground. He didn't bother to look back to see if the kings were following him. As the group neared the first bend in the river, they could make out the sound of the hooves of the pursuing riders. “Under and let the current carry us! If they don't spot us, they will probably stick to the road, figuring we out-paced them,” he hissed before dunking under and swimming as long as he could underwater. When he surfaced, he let the current carry him, finding he had passed the bend, out of sight of the bridge. A few moments later, the first of the kings came up, coughing and spitting out water. Shortly thereafter, the other two appeared. The lieutenant looked around.

“Get to shore,” he ordered, indicating the far bank. “We will hole up until night and then find a way to the border,” he said, beginning to swim for the bank. The other three followed his lead. Eventually, as afternoon waned, the four found a hiding spot a short distance from the river bank, where they hunkered down to rest.

Things had been going so well for them for the last two months that he had been lulled into a sense of safety. But a week ago, it had all gone wrong. The group had headed out for the last meeting with the loyalist, feeling good and eager to organize the re-taking of the Southern Kingdoms. The young officer had met with the group twice before, so he had wondered why something felt wrong with this meeting.

The four of them had barely sat down to after-dinner drinks and women when the doors to the study had banged open and Rebel fighters had stormed in, swords drawn. All but the plantation owner and his best friend had been seized. When the kings angrily accused him of being a rebel, the plantation owner had angrily sworn back at the king, accusing them of selling out their supporters first. Puzzled by that accusation, the lieutenant had risked a beating from the soldiers to ask what he was talking about. The plantation owner had angrily shoved a letter under his nose. The letter had born the seal of one of the other plantation owning loyalist, saying that the rebellion had seized and hung one of their group after he was betrayed by someone. The letter claimed that the seal had been the lieutenant's own, and that the soldiers who had hung the loyalist had laughed about their own kings killing them off.

As they were being dragged along behind the horses of the soldiers toward the outpost - where they would be executed in a manor suitable to criminals - the column of soldiers had been attacked by cloaked figures, and in the ensuing chaos, the four had fled into the woods, leaving the others to their fates. After finding their way to another plantation, they had stolen some horses and made for their nearest loyalist group to get assistance. When they arrived, they had not gotten the reception they had hoped for. The loyalist told them that earlier that day, one of the other loyalists that had been taken with them had come by, near death from wounds, and told him that they were betrayed. Soldiers had arrived shortly after, tracking the man, and he had barely managed to convince them that he wasn't a loyalist and he loved the Rebellion and Boss very much. He warned them that the soldiers were near, and they were never to come near him again.

When they found a small tavern late that night, they had walked into a group of soldiers of the rebellion having dinner and drinks. Since it would be riskier to turn and leave, they took seats and ordered food and drink themselves, keeping quiet and listening. The soldiers were talking about some big event, but what got their attention was the talk of the letters found in a loyalist's home. Apparently, the loyalists were turning on each other, starting with the kings. The three kings had been white-knuckled and red-faced as they silently listened to the soldiers insult, belittle and mock them from barely two tables away. As they were leaving, a folded parchment fell from the leader's bag, and the lieutenant had covertly recovered it. Glancing at it, he spotted the signet of one of the loyalists on it, the document naming another loyalist.

Needless to say, the four had not stayed the night there, instead stealing four fresh horses and moving toward the border. That had gone relatively smoothly for a couple days, then they had been watering their horses, and a patrol had found them, using a wanted poster with his face on it. The group had run for it, managing to make it to the loyalist plantation nearest the border the night before. To their shock, they learned that the border had been pushed into the kingdoms a good twenty miles more the week before. In the morning, as they were saddling their horses, a column of rebellion soldiers and cavalry had attacked the plantation. The plantation owner and his sons had joined them in a run for it, but one by one they fell. Somehow the kings and the lieutenant had managed to evade them so far.

But now, they had to not only cross the main river that formed the border, but had to go another twenty some miles before they could cross into safe territory. The kings were livid about the collapse of their insurgency, and very mistrustful of him and each other, but they had no other choice but to work together. During the evening, they heard soldiers moving in the woods, and saw torches among the trees. Hunkering down in their muddy, dirty clothes as they hid in the bowl formed by a half-uprooted tree, they held their breath as a group of soldiers checked the bank of the river, but didn't see where they had dragged themselves out of it.

“Do you think we will find them?” a soldier asked another, waving his torch over the water.

“They are here somewhere,” replied another, peering into the woods past his own torch. “And the Captains have offered a huge bounty on their heads. Hard to believe they would sell out their own so easily,” he laughed.

“Yeah, that plantation owner talked quick enough when the lashings started,” sneered a third. “Guess he only ever did the lashing and not the taking.”

“What do you think Boss will do to these kings when we bring them to her?” wondered the first.

“I shudder to even think about that,” the forth man answered. “I heard what she did to a couple of the other ones early on, and I can tell you I never want to be around to see that kind of thing in person.”

“You know she dismembered that one king, packed his body parts in sugar and sent them to the next king, right?” laughed the first.

“That was nothing,” jeered the third. “I heard she peeled the skin off another one and made him run around without a skin in the salt curing yards until he died, then made his sons eat his roasted flesh as their last meal,” he shared enthusiastically.

“She went easy on those fancy nobles, then,” the second said. “I served with a former slave from her original plantation, and the stories he told me of their first fight and what she did to the plantation owner and his sons still gives me nightmares. Boss is a monster, have no mistake,” he warned ominously.

“Truthfully,” came the agreement from the fourth. “I feel a chill whenever I am in the same town as her.”

“You know, some say she is death incarnate, come to claim the lives of the nobility for their evil ways,” the first shared, his tone gleeful.

“Well I heard she is from a foreign land, come here as the vanguard of an invading army,” the third shared.

“What need has she of an army?” wondered the second. “She eats kingdoms for breakfast and destroys armies with a wave of her arm. If there is an army of warriors like her, this entire world is fucked,” he pronounced as the four moved further down the bank. The fugitives waited in silence. They all shared one thought, however:

We have got to get out of this place!

It took them two more days, but they managed to reach the Kingdom lines safely. Spotted by a patrol as they crossed the river, they were seized and taken to the general in charge of the army section. The kings had announced their identities, displaying their signets while demanding a bath, clean clothes, horses and an escort to the capital. To their surprise, the general had studied their signets, consulted a letter then ordered all four clapped in irons. Outraged, the kings had threatened to have the general hung, but he had informed him that the Congress of Kings had ordered their arrest and they would be taken - in chains - to the Congress for judgement. No amount of cursing, demands, insults or outrage had changed anything, and the four had been sent to the capital as they were: tired, dirty, hungry, filthy and looking anything but noble.

To their surprise, they had been dragged into the Congress instead of being allowed to walk. Their arrival had interrupted a fierce debate about the armistice. It was in this position that they learned what had happened weeks before. They also learned that a partially-burned letter bearing the signet of the senior king had been found in the destroyed defensive works after the disastrous attack. The letter had commanded the general to strike immediately with his entire section, and that others would be supporting him. The General had been killed in battle, but the papers had been recovered by spies sent in after the new front stabilized. Other letters were found in a dispatch bag, one of them sealed with the lieutenant's own signet, requesting funds be sent to him, as well as arms.

Of course they all vehemently denied any involvement, but the signets were damning, as was the fact that they had been coming from enemy territory in a condition that clearly indicated they had been there for some time. Furthermore, the kings read off reports from their military spies that the lieutenant had been seen meeting with many people while absent without permission from his military duties, and later had been spotted in the company of the kings, who had not informed the Congress they were considering such a fool-hardy move. The reports went on to trace their movements.

The worst of it was when the chairman had informed the four that those spies had gone missing in the last week, but not before their final reports had indicated a large purge under way in the Rebellion lands. Backs to the wall, the three kings had tried to summon support from other sympathetic kings, only to find they claimed to know nothing of any such agreements. To make matters worse, their rooms in the capital had been searched weeks before and all their correspondence had been seized and examined. There were no letters implicating any other king in their actions.

“Which leaves us with a problem,” concluded the chairman. “The Rebellion has seized more lands thanks to you four, but if we want peace with them, you three must ratify the terms and affix your signets. After what just happened, though, I doubt that they will be satisfied with that. What are we to do about this?” he asked the kings at large.

“We must attack the rebels, of course!” exclaimed the oldest of the Southern Kings.

“Be silent,” ordered the Chairman.

“Have we heard from High Priestess Annette yet?” asked a Western Kingdoms king. The chairman shook his head.

“Not a word since she left two weeks ago to speak with the Captains. I admit I am uneasy about this silence from her and the rebellion. Is it possible that the Rebellion might treat her as a loyalist and kill her? If that were to happen, we would be in a very sticky situation with the elves,” he cautioned the group.

“Would such a thing not unite the elves against the Rebellion?” wondered a Northern Kingdoms ruler.

“We could hope, but given the situation, I doubt they would see the Rebellion as being the ones in the wrong,” sighed the Chairman. A page entered, approaching him with a folded, sealed letter which he presented with a bow. The chairman took the letter, breaking the seal and reading.

“Well, High Priestess Annette is unharmed so far,” he shared. “But the Rebellion has told her that they must decide on the response to our requests, and don't want her leaving until they have decided. She is apparently doing some good-will work by heading to Raltaow to talk with the Queen and Chancellor Airi,” he added, his expression tight.

“They have co-opted our messenger?!” gaped a king.

“So it would appear,” the Chairman sighed. “And sent her to Raltaow, the one neutral kingdom left.”

“The spokeswoman for the Captains did say that they would be the only kingdom on this continent within ten years,” worried another of the kings. “Raltaow might side with them, given how things are going.”

“We need to send our own negotiators to Raltaow,” the Chairman decided firmly. “But who to send?” he asked the council at large.

“Perhaps we should play the rebellion at their own game,” suggested a Central Kingdoms ruler. “I have been hearing about an elf archbishop in the Church that has been vocal about opposing the Rebellion. Perhaps we should see if she would be willing to speak with Raltaow? Perhaps an elf arguing against an elf will prove more effective than a human emissary in this situation?” he put forth.

“What is the name of this archbishop elf?” wondered the Chairman.

“My reports say she is named Romina,” answered the king.

“A female elf archbishop?” several kings chanted in unison. The king to suggest using her shrugged.

“So they say,” he confirmed. “She was once a simple nun in a church by a small lake in my kingdom, one popular with tourists. But at some point, something happened and she has held a grudge ever since. For whatever reason, she has been denouncing the Rebellion ever since it started. My sources say she has a small following in the Church leadership.”

“My Lords, if I may speak, I have something to say you will find useful in this situation,” the Lieutenant spoke up. The Chairman glanced at him.

“Chose your words with care, Lieutenant, as they may be your last,” he warned.

“While we were in the Southern Kingdoms, I noticed that many of the churches have been abandoned, taken over for other purposes or been severely curtailed. Perhaps the leadership of the Church would find this…heretical?” he suggested.

“Do the slaves not worship at the churches?” wondered a king.

“Some do, but most do not. Church is seen by many there as being something associated with slave owners and nobility, which now carries a stigma. Some of our most ardent supporters are clergy down there,” he shared candidly.

“Heresy,” mused the Chairman before ringing a bell. The doors opened and a page entered. “Page, find me the senior-most Church member in town, and ask him to come speak with me at dinner this evening,” directed the Chairman. The page bowed before hurrying off.

“Fire with fire it is, then,” the Chairman said. “But none of this settles what should be done with you four,” he returned to the problem at hand.

“So this is him? Huntsman, was it?” asked the Queen, looking at the man before her. Ritsuko sighed.

“Yes. He is the one who captured Airi and me. He is the reason Airi is disfigured and I…well, anyway, he is the reason,” replied the red-head. The Queen glanced over at her.

“What do you intend to do with him? I have heard rumors of how savage you were with certain of the nobles during the Revolution,” she hinted, a bit of excitement in her voice.

“That was war, and believe me when I say you do not want to see that kind of thing. Also, a lot of that is just rumors, spread by bitter former slaves to make themselves and others feel avenged,” she added. “The man who bought me and abused me for all those years actually didn't feel a thing,” she shared, her expression hardening. “I shot him right in the brainstem. He was dead before he even felt or heard anything. It wasn't my preferred solution, but it was the necessary solution.” Ritsuko had had a few things she would have liked to have done, but success was the ultimate goal, and therefore she had to make some sacrifices to achieve that.

“So, what are you going to do with him?” wondered the Queen again, staring the man. He was still naked and confined.

“I am going to do what must be done,” Ritsuko said softly, eyes on the man, who briefly raised his eyes to look at her before flickering his eyes over to the Queen. “You should have listened to Airi, by the way,” Ritsuko chided the queen.

“Airi is treating me like a child,” huffed the queen.

“Airi is protecting you as best as she can,” came the almost-sharp retort from Ritsuko.

“I'm the queen, and I have to know what goes on in my kingdom,” pronounced the Queen. Ritsuko turned to face the queen, leaning closer to stare the queen in the eyes.

“You think that, but you don't know what you are really asking for,” she warned the Queen. “You have seen our scars, but you haven't the slightest notion of what they mean; what they stand for, what is represented in them. Same for the realities of the kingdom. There is a saying in our land, my queen: heavy lies the head that bears the crown. Airi wants to save you as much pain and disillusionment as she can, because she knows what that feels like. She doesn't view you as a child - she views you as a young Queen whom she promised to protect.”

The expression on the younger woman's face told Ritsuko she had given the queen something to think about. Sighing, Ritsuko reached out and cupped the cheeks of the queen in her hands. “Airi means a lot to me, so I have sort of joined her in wanting to protect you as best we can,” she said softly. “And this is part of that. Please don't carelessly disregard our requests,” she said before leaning in close and kissing the Queen on the forehead. She could feel the Queen's blush. Holding her gaze for a moment longer, Ritsuko released her cheeks as she called out. “Persephone, you are hiding out there, aren't you? Please escort the Queen back to Airi.”

A few sounds came from outside the room before Airi's body servant opened the door, bowing to the Queen. “My apologies,” she began.

“Get her out of here,” Ritsuko interrupted the servant, who nodded and escorted the Queen out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“So, is it time?” the Huntsman asked.

“Yes,” Ritsuko said, watching him. “These damned slave runes will be removed and we will be free again.” She smiled a little as the man twitched. “Oh! You meant is this the day I kill you. My bad,” she apologized falsely. “No, you don't get to die yet,” she said, her tone harder. “I think you should know that the spell on Junpei has been removed,” she shared candidly. “Oddly enough, it was a simple matter of Airi telling Junpei she was the Chancellor and asking him not to do anything, and the spell just collapsed,” she turned the knife.

“The mage did warn my lord that the man was not intelligent enough for the spell to work reliably,” the Huntsman replied, his tone calm and indifferent. “Do you plan to seduce the queen, Ritsuko?” he asked her, sounding a little curious.

“Why do you say that?” wondered the redhead.

“Surely you realize that she is infatuated with you. It would take very little to enthrall her. That would give you a kingdom,” he noted. Ritsuko's eyes hardened a bit.

“And I told you I would never be a slaver,” she warned him, leaning closer. “Not even that sort of slaver,” she breathed before giving him a head-slap.

“So you have lost that much of yourself,” he murmured. Ritsuko frowned.

“Not enough to make me like you,” she argued.

“Is that a fact?” he challenged. “I see much of myself in you lately, Ritsuko,” he candidly shared. Her lips twisted.

“You wish you were in me,” she scoffed, standing. Glancing down, she saw he was semi-erect. “Maybe I should; for old time's sake,” she mused, reaching down to fondle him. “It would serve you right to give you whatever crap I have,” she darkly muttered. He gave her a look.

“What do you mean? You are not sick,” he disagreed.

“Whore's Disease, I believe they call it here,” Ritsuko said, her anger building. “From being raped by disease-carrying scum,” she snarled. “No known cure, since these primitives don't even know what a disease is. Another thing you are responsible for!”

“You have none of the signs of Whore's Disease,” Huntsman noted. “Nor of Slave Disease,” he added. Ritsuko paused, judging him with her eyes.

“What would you know of it?” she asked him.

“It is important to know how healthy a subject is,” shrugged the man.

“You haven't seen me since you sold me, asshole,” the girl warned him, her anger and her hope warring inside her. Huntsman shrugged.

“The smell is missing, there is no sign of corrupted discharge, you have no marks on your body, face, tongue or eyes, your monthly bleeding is normal and your body is very healthy. Why would you think you had Whore's Disease or Slave's Disease?” he wondered. Ritsuko wanted to punch him in the face.

“Because I know some of the men who raped me had something,” she snarled, shoving him before turning to exit the room. “Something you have yet to answer for,” she warned before exiting the room, the man hearing the door being barred again.

“Haliol, Haliol,” muttered Ritsuko as she leafed through a registry of noble families. “Halemena, Halgolith, Hamonstrad…damn it!” she hissed, slamming the book shut. “No record of them here,” she seethed. Airi hummed, closing her own book.

“Nor in this one. But that only means that we need to check the registry books in the capital of the Kingdoms,” she said. Ritsuko stood. “Easy, Rit-chan,” Airi stopped her with a touch. “We will leave first thing in the morning, ok?”

“Fine,” Ritsuko said through clenched teeth.

“Of course, there are certain…problems with going to the Capital of the Kingdoms,” she began.

“You're fine as the Chancellor of Raltaow, and if anyone gets in my way, I will use them to grease Mike's treads!” declared the red-head. The nobleman who had done this to them was suddenly close enough to practically smell, and she was straining at the bit already. Airi knew that if anyone caused problems for Ritsuko in the capital, she would go nuclear on their asses and would probably leave the capital in ruins before she was done. That - much as she wouldn't mind seeing Ritsuko lay waste to the place - would be counter-productive at this stage.

“Rit-chan,” chided Airi. The younger woman sighed.

“I can go in under cover,” she allowed. It was the best compromise Airi would ever get on this issue, and she took it.

“Excellent,” smiled Airi. “So, we are bound for the Temple to get the slave runes removed, and then we are going to try to find the home of the Haliol family of nobility.”

“You aren't planning to take your entourage, are you? They are so slow,” complained the gunslinger. Airi smiled.

“I directed Persephone to take a carriage with Hecate and four guards over the passes to the Temple day before yesterday. We should reach the Temple before them, giving us time to get the slave rune removed and do some checking.”

Ritsuko laughed softly, shaking her head. “That's my Airi,” she said softly, touching Airi's hand, which still held her forearm. The actress nodded, standing. Together, the two headed for the baths, finding the Queen just undressing with the aid of her body servants. Artemis and Venus bowed to the Chancellor even as they removed the last of the Queen's clothes.

“Lady Airi, Ritsuko! Join me?” she asked, sounding excited.

“That was the plan, my queen,” Airi said, the two swiftly undressing. “With your permission?” she smiled.

“Given, of course, as always,” the Queen replied, settling into the large marble tub. It was the size of a ten-person hot tub in their world, giving them plenty of room. Before Airi had arrived, it was the practice of nobility to only bathe every few days in summer, and every few weeks in winter. Airi had found that far from acceptable and had gradually imposed her own hygiene rules much like Ritsuko had. Now, the Queen bathed at least once a day. The transition had been made easier by Airi having a heating system built for the royal bathing area, giving them the option of warm water or fresh cold. Since spring was still holding on, the water was warmed slightly to just above skin temp.

Airi and Ritsuko settled in near the Queen. “Artemis, Venus, please join us,” invited the Chancellor. The two glanced at the Queen, seeing her nod with a smile. The two swiftly stripped and joined the others.

“I haven't seen Persephone or Hecate recently,” noted Artemis.

“I must take a trip to the Kingdoms again to tend to some business, and sent them ahead,” Airi explained. Seeing the queen's eyes light up, she shook her head. “My apologies, my Queen, but the Kingdoms are too unsettled and dangerous for you to visit them at this point. I myself will be traveling with Ritsuko and Mike.”

“Airi!” whined the young queen.

“Whining is not becoming of a Queen,” chided Airi. “If you were recognized, it would surely tempt certain factions to rash actions, and I will not give them the excuse,” she finished firmly.

“How about I dress like Ritsuko does? No one would think anything of me then,” suggested the young Queen, making Ritsuko giggle a little.

“My Queen, it is not the clothes that make me safe,” she said, playfully splashing the queen, who just wiped her face.

“I know you are a warrior, Ritsuko, but how is it any different if I dress like you and your group, and stay with you? Surely you can protect me better than anyone in the Royal Guards,” she wheedled.

“I go places and do things that no ruler - king or queen! - should be involved with,” lectured Ritsuko. “Then there are the other issues,” she added, sobering a little.

“Such as?” pressed the Queen.

“Such as little or no privacy in the group, no special treatment like you are used to, rough conditions, high physical activities, knowledge of fighting, plain food and often little enough of that. It is not a picnic, my queen,” she said, her tone introspective.

“Lady Airi has made me exercise daily since she became my governess,” the Queen informed her. “Every morning and evening, I exercise. Physical act ivies are not beyond me,” she informed the red-head crisply.

“I know you exercise; I can see it in your body,” Ritsuko replied. “Have you ever swum a river in the middle of the night with thirty pounds of gear? Or crawled on your belly across a field under the burning sun for two days straight? How about climbing a town wall at night in the rain, then killing all the soldiers at the top of the wall before they can raise the alarm? Because that is the sort of thing I seem to end up doing all the damn time,” Ritsuko replied, her tone hard. “I have run through a battlefield with a friend over my shoulders more times than I can count. I have infiltrated towns and blown up buildings like a sapper almost every time I have gotten near one. Milliea and I have had to run nine miles through the woods while being chased by soldiers after walking for two days straight with half our weight on our backs in gear. When we are transiting, we usually live on jerky, gruel, water and whatever field vegetables or fruits we can scavenge. Is that something you really want to experience?” pressed Ritsuko.

“Lady Airi told me a queen must understand her subjects and be intimately familiar with the political, military and economic situation of her kingdom. Until I was crowned Queen, I never set foot out of the Capital. Since then, I have never left the Kingdom - not once! How can I understand the military, political and economic situation my kingdom faces if I never leave it?” challenged the Queen.

“That is why the position of Chancellor exists, my queen,” Airi cut in smoothly. The Queen frowned before suddenly smiling, putting both Airi and Ritsuko on edge.

“Then are we to understand that you will be marrying a noble instead of me?” she asked innocently. “After all, is that not what a Chancellor is for? How can I possibly assess the political value of any offer without first evaluating the kingdom or noble family the potential suitor comes from?”

“You might have taught this one too well,” Ritsuko said to Airi in Japanese, her tone dry and a bit sardonic.

“Perhaps, but it was necessary to insure she survived long enough to be of any use to us,” replied Airi blandly in English. Ritsuko snorted, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “It isn't like this wouldn't have happened eventually,” Airi added.

“How do you want to play it?” was all Ritsuko said, not looking away from the ceiling.

“You do have something of a point, my queen,” Airi returned to the local language. “Let's work out an itinerary and goals. We can take the trip mid-summer,” she said, glancing at Ritsuko.

“I'm heading over the passes at daybreak, Airi,” was all Ritsuko said. The actress knew better than to think anything would stop Ritsuko from going after the nobleman. Airi assessed the Queen's expression and body language.

“Will you take the queen with us? I will take over when we meet up with Persephone and Hecate and do the quick tour.”

Ritsuko leaned forward, looking at the queen. “She have the right kind of clothes?” asked the girl. “Mission-critical only on Mike,” warned the girl. Airi nodded.

“She has the clothes, if you can spare enough room for a foot trunk on the back of Mike's deck,” confirmed the Chancellor.

“Listen to me, my queen,” Ritsuko said, leaning closer to the younger ruler. “If you come with us, there is no queen - just you. You will do what we say when we say without arguing or complaining. If you fall behind, you will be left. If you try to order me or anyone else in the group around, you will be lucky to only be left behind. This is not a pleasure trip, and I sure as hell won't coddle you. Right here, right now, you agree to these terms or you are not going. Clear?”

The Queen blinked. Very, very few people had ever talked to her like that. In fact, only two had ever done that - and they were both in the tub with her. But while part of her was indignant that anyone would talk to her like that, the majority of her knew that someone like Ritsuko, Boss of the Rebellion, meant every word of what she said. The fact that the red-head had already killed more kings than she had ever met in her life also told her that the Rebellion boss would not hesitate to do the same to her. This was her chance, but it came at a price.

“I accept your conditions, Ritsuko,” she said, meeting the eyes of the red-head.

For a long moment, Ritsuko stared into her eyes, saying nothing. Sighing, the revolutionary sat back. “I hope this is worth what you think it is,” she murmured. “What should we call you, since `my Queen' is obviously out?”

“Call me Kaislinn,” said the Queen. Ritsuko glanced at Airi, who nodded.

“Ok, Kaislinn,” she said evenly, “welcome to the winning side in this revolution.”

Ritsuko huffed as she dashed madly up the stone stairs, her PSG1 on her back in its pack. Just behind her, Milliea was running right behind her, swords drawn. Rounding a corner, Ritsuko found a guy in simple leather armor in her way. Lunging low, she sliced him across the back of the knee with her sheath knife as she shoulder-threw him over her back. Milliea swiped a sword - the ensorcelled blade cutting through the stone like it was wet paper as she swung it- as the man fell past her, severing his head from his shoulders as he tumbled down the stairs, painting the walls and treads with blood.

Ritsuko didn't pause, running across the roof and kicking in a small window of the tower at the far end, swiftly wiggling through it to the wooden stairs leading to the crenelated roof of the tower. Milliea gracefully dove in after her, the two running up the stairs as fast as they could. Cursing, Ritsuko fought with the door for a moment before kicking it open, spooking some birds that were perched on the narrow fighting space between the steep slate roof and the crenellations. “Rope down the back side,” Ritsuko ordered Milliea as she swiftly checked each crenel for angles. Milliea unslung the rope looped across her body, tying it off to the hinges of the door and looping it back over a stone tooth. She placed the coil of rope on top of the next crenel.

“Ready,” chirped the elf girl, moving back to where Ritsuko was crouched, PSG1 pulled from the leather sheath and in her hands. The scope covers were flipped up, the bipod was unfolded and she was checking her field of fire. Even as she did this, she reached out and opened one of the pouches, removing a twenty-round magazine of match ammo. Smacking the spine of the magazine firmly against the stone next to her, she seated it and slapped the bolt release, the gun snapping into battery. Ritsuko briefly dropped the magazine again, glancing at it to confirm the next round was on the opposite side of the magazine before reseating it with a solid slap.

Reaching to her throat, she keyed the radio mike there. “Gun set,” she warned.

“Understood,” came the answer over the radio. “Just in time - they're about to hang,” the voice added.

“Stand by,” Ritsuko radioed back, swiftly tugging another magazine free, this one standard mil-spec ball. “Ears, Milliea,” warned the girl, thumb flicking the fire select from Safe to Fire. Milliea pressed her fingertips into her ears, the long ears tucking back a bit like a cat's. Ritsuko settled herself behind the gun, locking in and acquiring her first target. With the edge of her support hand's thumb, she keyed the mic again. “Firing,” she said before concentrating on the scope. Three seconds later, she tipped off the first round, the report of the rifle echoing chaotically through the city. No sooner had the scope settled from the recoil than the next round was on the way, then another and another and another. When the gun went click! instead of bang!, she dumped the mag, shoved the ball mag in and ran the charging handle before resuming fire, this time much faster and with less precision. It took nearly no time at all to empty the magazine.

“Gun team displacing, gun team displacing,” she radioed even as she jammed the empty magazines back into the pouches and tucked the gun into the scabbard, which went over her back again. Glancing over the edge to the roof that led to the tower, she saw a pair of soldiers running toward the tower. Pulling her pistol, she shot them dead before hurrying to the far side of the tower. Seeing no soldiers in the alley, she kicked the coil of rope off the crenel. “Milliea,” she ordered, the elf girl swiftly forming a basic rappelling seat out of the rope like Ritsuko had taught her, the human snapping the carabiner in place. “Drop,” she ordered, the elf girl doing as she had been taught, swiftly rappelling to the ground. Ritsuko ducked her head into the tower, hearing armor clanking and jingling. Pulling a grenade from her harness, she used the heavy, stiff door to hold the spoon down before pulling the pin and swiftly roping herself up. Seconds later, she was on the ground and drawing her cloak over her head as she and Milliea swiftly walked away. They had just turned the corner when an explosion rocked the tower, showering the area around the tower with stone fragments and a few pieces of soldier. The scream of a soldier ended with a nasty splattering sound on a roof the next building over, followed a moment later by the sound of something falling off the roof and onto the stone alley three stories below. Ritsuko smirked under her hood.

Behind them, the public execution stands were in chaos, with dead bodies littering the stage and the area around it. The prisoners were all gone, having mixed with the crowd as soon as their guards had fallen. The nobles on the stage and nearest to it were dead or dying, as were more than a few city officials. Everyone who had attended the public execution was absolutely terrified. They had come to see a half-dozen rebel sympathizers be tortured and executed for acts against the Kingdom, but had instead seen nobles killed by strange, bizarre means and the entire town terrified. Soldiers, nobles, dignitaries and a couple of prominent citizens had died in place of the prisoners. The city mayor was dead, the lord of the domain was dead, the General of the garrison and the chief of the police force were dead, and no one knew how. Already, rumors were spreading that Boss had come for the nobles, using her arcane spells to slay her enemies. The sound of distant lightening had been the proof of her involvement, as it was well known that her magic often preceded or followed a clap of thunder.

Mixed in the crowd, one of the prisoners was grabbed by a pair of cloaked watchers who swiftly threw a clock over them as well, cutting the bonds and guiding the prisoner away with the flow of the crowd. In short order, they were nearing a side gate, which was unbarred, the soldiers assigned to that gate slumped by the base of the wall. Two more figures joined the three, all five swiftly hurrying toward a copse of trees a mile or two distant from the city walls. When they reached it, they boarded Mike, who immediately cranked up and roared off cross-country.

“Boss, I'm sorry,” the prisoner began.

“Save it. What happened - exactly,” she dismissed his apology.

“Near as I can figure it, the criminals must have sold me out. I knew it was a risk, but I figured that with the watch cracking down on them, it would be in their best interest to stay quiet about the only one giving them a profit, but I guess the reward finally got to some of them. I swear, Boss, I would die before I said a word about you,” repeated the prisoner.

“I know,” she said. “I'm moving you to the border kingdoms, down in the Central Kingdoms. Same template as before. And this time, don't get caught,” she ordered.

“Yes, Boss!” came the reply. The red-head nodded, studying a map. The figure got comfortable as they could on Mike as the tank roared through the woods, smacking trees aside like cobwebs. “Good to see you too, Milliea,” they greeted the swordswoman.

“Yeah! Close call today, huh?” she chirped back cheerfully.

“You need to be figuring out a new identity and name. We'll alter your looks when we stop for the night,” Ritsuko cut in.

“Yes, Boss,” the insurgent said. After a few moments, the agent spoke up. “Um, why did you come save me?”

“Because I did,” was all they got in response. It was obvious Boss was not in a talkative mood.

Two hours past nightfall, Mike arrived at a small camp site. Hopping off the tank, Ritsuko checked in with the people at the camp. Her insurgent dismounted, recognizing a face from the training camp days, as well as a few unfamiliar faces. “New faces?” asked the insurgent.

“That is not your concern,” Boss said. “Remember Rule Three,” cautioned the red-head.

“Right, Boss,” the chastised insurgent answered. Milliea handed them a bowl of trail stew - jerky bits, wild vegetables, some grain base and a bit of seasoning. Nodding, they swiftly ate while Boss consulted with a couple of the unfamiliar faces. By the time the bowl was empty, Boss had apparently made her choices.

“Let's get you looking different,” she ordered. By the time they were settling in to sleep, they looked precious little like they had that morning. Two days later, they jumped off Mike as the tank slowed in the middle of a field, the stars overhead covered by thin clouds. Waving once, they hurried off toward the nearest town, several miles distant. Mike kept moving.

“Artemis, how are things going back home?” Airi asked the body servant of the Queen via the Moonlight Mirror spell that Gabriella had cast for her. The body servant bowed to the Chancellor and the Queen, who was right behind Airi.

“My Queen, Chancellor Airi,” she greeted the two. “Things are going well here, but today at mid-afternoon, a delegate from the Church arrived to speak with you two. She gave her name as Archbishop Romina.”

“Romina?” blinked Airi.

“She is known to you, Lady Airi?” asked the body servant.

“Unfortunately,” sighed Airi. “What is her visit about?”

“She refused to say, but is insisting she speaks with you two at the earliest possible time. What are my orders?” asked Artemis.

“I assume you told her that the Queen and I are out of the capital on business, so offer her a room - not one of the nicer ones, mind you! - if she wants to wait. If she chooses not to wait, tell her that I will look her up at my earliest convenience,” ordered Airi.

“Yes, Chancellor,” the woman bowed. “How is your trip, my Queen?” she asked her ruler, smiling a little.

“It is somewhat more tiring that I had anticipated, but I love it!” came the enthusiastic response. “The things that Lady Airi and Lady Ritsuko can do is just…!”

“I am sure you are amazed, but let us focus on the immediate problem,” Airi cut in smoothly. “I will contact you again later tonight, so be sure to be somewhere private. Also, use the signet to order that the border checkpoints be reinforced and have the Royal Guards keep an eye on Romina. She will likely seek to poke her nose where it doesn't belong,” warned the Chancellor.

“Of course, my Lady,” Artemis bowed.

“Artemis,” Ritsuko spoke up from just outside the viewing area of the spell, “have the palace guards give the Archbishop an escort as well. She will probably want to meet with some of the local Church clergy and that will probably lead to the less enthusiastic nobles wanting to talk to her. We wouldn't want to let any malcontents threaten our Queen's safety, now would we?”

Artemis blinked. “Of course not, Lady Ritsuko!” breathed Artemis.

“Have the guards keep a close watch on her and everyone she talks to. Give me the list next time I am there and I will handle it,” Ritsuko said, her voice a smooth, dark purr.

“You are not to give the list to Ritsuko, Artemis. I will take the list, and handle it. Understood?” countermanded Airi, worried how Ritsuko might use such a list.

“Whatever,” snorted Ritsuko, rolling her eyes. “But if that religious nutcase tries to cremate me again, I will kill her,” warned the red-head. The Queen blinked at that statement, wondering what her idol Ritsuko had not told her yet.

Airi waved her hand in Ritsuko's direction, getting a sigh from the girl, who was lovingly tending to her PSG1, the G36 already cleaned, oiled and polished. “I will contact you in a few hours. Have Venus with you and be sure you two are alone and in a private spot,” Airi said, gesturing to Gabriella, who ended the spell. “Well, that is a new wrinkle,” Airi thought aloud.

“Who wants to bet that the Alliance is trying to bring the Church in on their side?” Ritsuko offered cynically.

“Of course they are,” Airi sighed. “But, forewarned, forearmed. My Queen, we will have to cut this trip short,” she said.

“But…!” began the Queen.

“No arguing,” Ritsuko and Airi both said in unison. The Queen sighed, but was silent. Ritsuko finished reassembling the precision rifle and set it aside.

“Fastest way back is by air fish. Nearest friendly air fish source is the Temple,” shared the tactical commander of the group. “We can be there by morning, and you two can be back at the capital by evening,” she said, standing and stretching before looking to Airi for the decision.

“What are you going to be doing?” Airi asked her, her eyes holding a trace of suspicion. Ritsuko smiled.

“Just some errands,” she replied sweetly.

“Ritsuko,” chided Airi.

“We haven't found any leads on Haliol, so I will find some leads,” Ritsuko replied, locking gazes with her best friend. “Take Persephone back with you, but I need to…borrow Hecate for a bit,” she added with a sharp, predatory smile. The body servant of Airi gulped nervously. Ritsuko often scared her for reasons she couldn't always identify.

“Why not use one of your insurgent teams?” Airi asked, suspicious why Ritsuko was asking for one of her personal body servants.

“They might get carried away or look out of place,” Ritsuko smiled wider. Airi's eyes narrowed slightly.

“I know you aren't planning what I think you are planning,” she warned. Ritsuko shrugged, not breaking her stare. The actress swiftly ran through the possible scenarios for what she worried Ritsuko planned to do with her trusted servant. Not finding a better option, she sighed. “Promise me you will return her in the condition you got her in?”

“Close as possible,” responded Ritsuko, looking over at Hecate and giving her a look that made her shiver. “Might be a few dents or scratches, but nothing permanent; well, nothing that permanently affects her ability to perform her duties,” qualified the red-head.

“My lady, please…!” Hecate nearly begged.

“Take her with you,” Airi flipped her hand. “But you made a promise, Rit-chan,” she warned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ritsuko was the one now flipping her hand in dismissal. “They say new experiences help you grow.”

“I want to go with Ritsuko,” Kaislinn spoke up.

“No,” came the unified response from Ritsuko, Airi, Hecate and Milliea. The Queen came perilously close to pouting. Ritsuko checked her watch before glancing at the sun as it neared the horizon.

“Let's saddle up, we got ground to cover, and I feel the need for a Thunder Run coming on,” grinned the red-head, easily hopping up on top of Mike. The others swiftly found their spots. “Alright, Mike, let's put the fear of Boss in these primitive screw-heads,” purred Ritsuko to her tank, caressing the hard armor.

“Meow!” came the reply, the tank rumbling forward, shoving aside or running over trees and brush until it reached the main road, where it nearly pounced onto the trade route.

“Go, Mike, go!” cheered Ritsuko as she finished connecting her phone to the PA circuit. The tank throttled up to full, centered on the road. Ahead of them, in the last of the light, Ritsuko spotted a caravan of carts camped mostly on the road. Hitting the PA switch she turned the volume to max. “Move it or lose it!” she yelled into the microphone even as she threw on the spotlight. The people froze in shock at the strange beast charging them. A couple guards with crossbows fired at them, Ritsuko ducking into the driver's compartment as a bolt bounced off the armor. “That wasn't nice,” she murmured, “Mike! Run those bastards down!” she commanded, turning on the red night-running lamps. Finding the song she wanted, she pressed play and settled in, the PA blaring out the song as Mike's armored prow hit the first cart, shattering it like balsa wood. “Woo! Bullseye, Mike!” praised Ritsuko as the remains of the cart were crushed under the treads and hull. The rest of the carts fared no better, the sound of Ritsuko's laughter echoing behind them as the light faded to black, save for a sooty red glow from the strange beast.

The stories the caravan told the next people they saw would become legend.

Hecate was trembling with nerves as she made her way out of the palace in the Capital. She was half expecting to be seized at any moment, but for some reason, no one seemed to be paying her any attention. Of course, she still had to face Ritsuko, who was arguably scarier than any royal could ever be. Tucked into her servants' dress were some parchments given to her by a girl in the court. At first, she had been sure there was some mistake, but when she locked gazes with the young girl in the fancy gown, she was sure that there was no mistake: the young girl was one of Ritsuko's. The grey eyes had burned with the same sort of fervor that her boss's often did.

Exiting the grounds, she made her way down the street. Reaching a narrow alley, she ducked into it long enough to pull off her dress, revealing common clothing of a pair of pants and a plain cotton shirt. Roughly folding and rolling the dress, she tucked it under her arm like a parcel and exited the alley, heading for a tavern not far from the palace. Reaching it, she ordered stout ale and took a seat in the corner, waiting for her hopefully-temporary mistress to meet up with her. It was some time before Ritsuko slipped into the seat opposite her like a ghost. “I have it,” she murmured.

“Shh,” Ritsuko answered softly. “Keep drinking,” she said, nodding as the bar maid put a large pitcher in front of her, offering her a simple glass. Hecate did so, wondering what Ritsuko was doing. It took her three more stout ales before Ritsuko stood, taking her arm in one hand and guiding her out of the tavern. Hecate was a bit tipsy as the red-head guided her down the street and over to an inn. Entering, she led the dark-haired servant up the stairs to the rooms, steering her into one before bolting it behind them. “Redleg to Kicks, how does it look?” she said quietly into a radio.

“Seems clear, Redleg,” came the answer a moment later.

“Redleg to Longear, how is it over there?” she radioed.

“Longear here, looks good,” came the reply.

“Redleg to Broadsword, all good on your end?”

“Yes!” chirped the other party. “Did Servant get it?”

“Roger that. Standby for operation start,” Ritsuko radioed, pulling the parchments out of the dress and scanning them. Satisfied that she had memorized the information, she pulled out a lighter and burned the parchments. Looking over at Hecate, she saw the body servant was drunk, sitting on the bed and giving her an amused smile. Sighing, Ritsuko moved over to her, leaning in close to study the woman's face.

“Sleep it off,” she decided, swiftly stripping the woman naked and tucking her into the bed. With that done, she grabbed her gear and slipped out of the window, leaving a thin string against the wall to pull down a rope for her return trip. Minutes later, she met up with her security net, and the four vanished into the Capital for an entertaining night of adventure and discovery.

“Archbishop Romina, I understand you have been waiting to speak with us,” the Queen said as she entered the suite where the Archbishop was staying. The young ruler was dressed in a formal court gown, Airi slightly behind her in similar clothing, her silver Chancellor medallion nestled between her mostly-bare breasts.

“Ah, Queen Liseria of Raltaow, it is a pleasure,” Romina inclined her head. The queen barely nodded. “And you must be the Chancellor of Raltaow, the former slave Airi,” Romina greeted the Chancellor. Well, she doesn't seem to remember me, mused Airi.

“Regardless of her previous position, she is our Chancellor, and you will address her with the respect due her, Archbishop. Are we clear?” warned the Queen, her tone icy. “Now, what business have you in our kingdom?”

“I have been asked by the arch diocese and the kings of the Allied Kingdoms to speak with you about a serious matter involving the Rebellion,” began Romina.

“We are well aware of the Rebellion, and it has little to do with us,” Liseria cut in coolly.

“You are not engaged in diplomatic negotiations with the Rebellion?” Romina pressed.

“Our diplomatic relations are of no concern to you,” denied Liseria. “Why have you come to our kingdom?” she repeated herself.

Archbishop Romina frowned a little. This Queen was young, but spoke like a seasoned ruler, which is not what she had been given to expect from a young, inexperienced queen. “The Rebellion has been labeled a heretical uprising by the Pontiff of the Church,” Romina stated, making the required gestures with her off-hand. “Surely you would not lead your kingdom into damnation by supporting heresy in any way,” suggested the Archbishop.

Instead of the expected nervous pause, the Queen gave a burst of laughter, her Chancellor smiling tolerantly. “I rule this kingdom, and I will do as I see fit,” the Queen said flatly, eyes hard. “Heresy is just another word; and usually one associated with the Church attempting to scare gullible fools into complying with their ridiculous nonsense. If that is all you have to say, then depart my kingdom - you have wasted more than enough of my time!”

“You would do well to show proper respect to the Church,” Romina warned, her tone a bit sharp. The Queen's lips thinned.

“Was that a threat, Chancellor?” she asked Airi.

“It certainly sounded that way, my Queen,” Airi answered. The queen raised her hand, snapping her fingers. Four royal guards entered immediately, swords drawn and pointed at the Archbishop.

“We do not respond well to threats, Romina,” the Queen said coldly. Romina schooled her face to impassivity.

“I meant no threat, my Queen, but you are unmarried,” she reminded the monarch.

“What of it?” asked Liseria.

“State weddings must be performed by the Church,” Romina began, “and were you to ally your kingdom with the heretics of the Rebellion, then you could never wed.”

“Then I will form my own church,” smiled Liseria, getting a smile from Airi. “You clergy have been quite bothersome for some time now, and I for one grow tired of it. I will wed whom I choose when I choose for I am the Queen. If you attempt to challenge my sovereign authority, I will not hesitate to eliminate you; much as the Rebellion has crippled you bunch in their lands. Perhaps it missed your attention that they prosper while the Kingdoms fall into chaos. I would suggest you focus your efforts there, rather than trying to intimidate me.”

“I find it interesting that you - a supposed clergy member - are here at the behest of the Congress of Kings,” Airi spoke up. “Is that not a case of conflict of interest? Furthermore, did the congress mention that they are debating an armistice even now? Your visit seems…strangely timed,” she paused dramatically before finishing.

Romina felt her face flushing with anger. How dare some barely-grown royal treat the Church this way?! she silently snarled. “The church is a force of good and bringer of order to the lands,” Romina began. “Through us, prosperity and unity are achieved. Your young age is likely to blame for your outburst, Queen Liseria, as I am sure you did not suggest opposing the Holy Church and thus losing that order and stability.”

“Again with the threats, no matter how veiled,” sighed Liseria, shaking her head. “If this is the nature of your Church, I will have to take measures,” the Queen continued. “By royal decree, I, Queen Liseria of Raltaow, ninety-first ruler of the Mountain Kingdom Raltaow, hereby impose royal tariff on all churches in the land. The tariff shall be paid from the Church coffers at the first of each month, determined by the size of the congregation. Failure to remain current on the tariff shall result in the closure of the Church and the imprisonment or exile of the priest in charge. Furthermore, it is hereby forbidden to leave land, wealth or title to the Church, and all lands and titles granted to the Church in the past is hereby revoked. If the church has constructed a building on any such land, they will either purchase the land from the Crown at the current value, or they will forfeit the land entire. Set this day by my hand, Queen Liseria the First.”

Romina stared at the queen, who maintained an icy stare with her. “You haven't the authority…!” she began, scandalized.

“An elf lackey of the Church dares to tell me I lack authority in my own kingdom?” Liseria cut back, her tone positively glacial. The guards pushed closer, their sword tips pressing against the cowl the elf wore. “Yes, I am aware of your race,” Liseria smiled coolly. “Though we remain apart, we listen carefully to what goes on in the Kingdoms. We have heard your name several times, as well as certain other unsavory rumors. We were given to understand that elves have their own religion and gods, yet you are a clergy of the Church. Does that not make you a traitor to your own race?” wondered Liseria.

“Most who know see it that way, my Queen,” Airi interjected smoothly. “Though remarkably few seem to have knowledge of her race. I find that odd as the Church must certainly be aware of her race. Given their doctrine and dogma, she should not be able to be a clergy of the church, since they hold that their god is the only one and only humans are his creation, so elves are soulless creatures of the dark. I wonder how she came to be a clergy, let alone a Archbishop. She must have kissed the right rings and paid proper lip service to the right leaders,” hinted Airi, a mocking smile on her lips.

Romina went red. “You dare…?!”

“We do,” stated the Queen. “As you have said what you came to say, leave our kingdom immediately. Guards, show her the door,” instructed the Queen, turning and exiting with Airi right beside her. Once she was gone, the guards prodded the elf cleric with their swords.

“You have been banished from the kingdom, long-ears,” the senior one said. Romina turned a scorching gaze on him.

“So I heard, but this is not over yet,” she hissed out before storming out of the room, heading for the front entrance to the palace. From an upper-story window, Liseria and Airi watched her storm down the steps and into her carriage, which was immediately encouraged to depart. They would not make it to the middle valley that night, but would be stuck between the first and second pass for the night. Airi had made sure to wait until it was too late to make the rest point town.

“That was amazing!” squealed the Queen, giddy at her first real taste of royal power.

“I am sure it was satisfying, my queen, but do not forget what I discussed with you on the way here. There will be repercussions for years to come, and you must remain vigilant against them,” warned the Chancellor.

“I will,” the Queen nodded. Airi fondly stroked the Queen's back.

“I am sure you will. Now, let us get some supper and tend to what matters require our attention. We have been gone some amount of time, and the government never sleeps.”

The young queen sighed. She already had a distaste for paperwork, and her time with Ritsuko has made her downright unfriendly toward it. But, she was raised by Airi, and she was well-conditioned. “Yes, Airi,” she replied. “I wonder how Ritsuko is doing?”

“That's a good look for you,” snickered Gabriella, Rapier trying to hold her own laughter. “I especially like the attention to details,” she chortled. Ritsuko scowled at the two. Milliea studied the marble statue, a small frown on her face.

“Ritsuko's breasts are not that big, and she keeps herself shaved down there,” began the swordswoman elf. Ritsuko touched her lips.

“Just let it go, Milliea,” she said, shaking her head.

“It is the thought that counts, right, Boss?” managed Rapier before falling into giggles.

“Ritsuko doesn't look anything like this,” Milliea began, “and she doesn't go around dressed…” her argument was interrupted by Gabriella and Rapier all but falling to the ground, paralyzed by laughter.

“I'd hardly call that dressed,” managed Gabriella between tears of laughter.

“It makes you look like a prude, Gabs,” Rapier managed. Ritsuko shook her head before kicking the two elf women with her boot.

“Now that you have had your fun, let's get to it; we're drawing a crowd,” she added, moving off with Milliea, the other two struggling to contain their mirth enough to follow. Entering the former palace of the main kingdom of the South, Ritsuko tossed back her cloak's hood, tossing her head to free her braided hair. Several workers gasped as they recognized her. “Where are the Captains?” she said, cutting off their greetings.

“In the office, Boss,” one answered immediately. “I had never thought I would see you again, Boss…!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my way,” Ritsuko said, not slowing a single step. The man did so with great haste. Everyone knew what happened to people who irritated Boss, after all. Reaching the doors to the office, she threw them open.

All five Captains and their staff looked up, blinking as they recognized Boss. “First things first,” Ritsuko cut off anything they might have had to say. “I want to know everything there is to know about a noble house called Haliol. Search all the records, talk to who you have to, but I want that information now.”

“Yes, Boss,” came the unified answer.

“Can we ask why…?” began a Captain. One glare from Ritsuko shut her up.

“Next order of business: the negotiations. Have they gotten back with you yet?” asked the Rebellion leader.

“Not yet. I anticipate that it will take them some time yet to get all the seals,” answered her Captain who had been the main negotiator.

“Likely not helped by our purge,” smiled Ritsuko. “Did we miss anyone?” she asked.

“We have a complete list, but have not liquidated them all yet, per orders. What are we to do with them?” asked the Captain in charge of security.

“They are the cheese in the traps. Have them monitored, as they will be the most likely point of contact for any new spies or agents. If any more come in, execute them without delay, but do not let the ones we are using as bait know when you do.”

“Ah, a trap that never seems to be sprung remains tempting,” nodded the woman in charge of security, receiving a nod from Ritsuko.

“Have the smugglers been getting through on a regular basis?” asked Ritsuko.

“Not only that, but with only one ship left, they have been sailing right into port past the ship, which refuses to come close to shore ever since the loss of the rest of the fleet. Will it be reinforced?” wondered the lone male captain.

“Not with new ships. I have some schematics for a device and instructions for its construction and use. Destroy all the remaining Kingdom ships by the end of the next month,” ordered the leader, offering a few rolled-up parchments to her Captain of Interior Projects. The woman took the diagrams eagerly, beginning to study them with a keen eye. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to ask about the statue,” she said, crossing her arms. The room stilled, but nobody said anything.

“B-Boss, are you t-thirsty?” a young man asked, offering her a large cup of water, which was spilling from the shaking of his hand. She slanted him a look before taking the water and tossing it back in one pull.

“Thanks, kid,” she said, patting his head. The boy practically melted, prompting giggles from Gabs and Rapier.

“I think you broke him, Boss,” Gabriella said before succumbing to laughter again.

“Somehow, I doubt that is pee on his crotch,” Rapier added even as she, too, lost the battle against laughter.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” snarled Ritsuko, grabbing the kid's shirt and lifting him off the floor. Four strides and she dropped him unceremoniously in a chair. “The statue,” she reminded her Captain as she stepped back to Milliea's side.

“Uh, it was meant as a unifying symbol,” began one captain.

“The finest craftsmen created it. Is it flawed?” wondered another.

“No!” burst out Gabriella and Rapier, practically writhing on the marble floor from laughing so hard.

“Don't hurt yourselves,” Ritsuko said dryly to the two. “Should have seen this coming, though, given the circumstances,” she muttered.

“Should we destroy it, Boss?” asked Rastali. Ritsuko sighed.

“Leave it as is,” she ordered. “Fucking perverts,” she muttered. “Just don't go erecting those all over the damn place!”

“Oh, it will erect plenty of things all over the place,” sniped Gabriella.

“You know, I am not such a nice person that I won't have them make statues of you two nude and have them placed in every tavern in every town, you know,” grumbled Ritsuko. The two sobered a little. “Anything else need my attention?” she asked the Captains. They all shook their heads, muttering denials.

“I want that information tomorrow,” she said, turning to leave.

“Boss, where are you going?” wondered a staff member. She turned to stare at the young man. “S-sorry!” he squeaked. Ritsuko departed the building, pulling her hood up and setting a fast pace. Reaching Mike, they headed away from town, cross-country.

“Where are we going?” wondered Gabriella.

“To a nice place to rest,” smiled Ritsuko. “Be ready to cast that spell, Gabs,” she added. A half hour later, Mike settled into a park-like area on a bluff overlooking a river. Without having to tell the women anything, camp was set up and by the time the light was fading, they were settled in at a comfortable camp, fire lit and fish grilling over it. While the fish and trail bread cooked, Gabriella cast the spell, and Ritsuko talked with Airi.

“Pontiff,” the king bowed to the head of the Church. “Thank you for coming,” he intoned.

“You said it was urgent, my son?” asked the man, absently eyeing the prison bars separating him from the men who had asked him to visit.

“Pontiff, I don't know how much you know of the situation in the lands under control of the Rebellion, but the church and clergy there are in dire danger,” began the senior king.

“We have heard some stories,” the head of the church said neutrally.

“I assure you, whatever you have heard is just the very least of it,” the king insisted earnestly. “If left unchecked, those slaves will undermine the very foundations of our way of life, and the biggest part of that is the Church. Surely Your Holy Imminence sees that.”

“No slave rebellion has ever succeeded,” noted the head of the church.

“This one will, if left unchecked. Did you know that there is an armistice agreement being ratified in the Congress even now? You should really read the agreement as written, but the most important thing is that the agreement will effectively strip royalty and the Church of their rightful authority. The slaves down there have no respect for the church, and if that were to spread - as it will if the armistice is ratified! - then it will end with the Church left as little more than a social club. Holy edict will mean nothing, as well as there being no reason to tithe. Is that something the church wishes to see happen?”

The pontiff was silent, but he was thinking of the news he had received not a full day ago from one of his up and coming archbishops, Romina. Raltaow had effectively dismissed the Church's authority and cut off all income from the kingdom. If that happened across the Allied Kingdoms, then it would have a very serious impact on the resources and reach of the Church. For generations, the Church had built a powerbase based on the raw obedience of the commoners and the needs of the Royal houses and nobility. This new direction was indeed a concern.

“If this is as you say, it would be a crisis of faith,” noted the Pontiff.

“Yes,” nodded the senior king.

“We could send our holy knights to punish the heretics,” he thought aloud.

“Yes!” came the cry from the three kings. The Pontiff hummed, turning to leave.

“I will pray on this, my sons,” he said before exiting. The kings blinked. They had expected him to order his knights to the front immediately. After a moment of thought, however, they realized the pontiff was going to see where the greatest opportunity lay. Greed was not limited to the nobility; nor was ambition.

The pontiff needed to pay a visit to the congress of kings to see what was written on the armistice as well as to judge the lay of the political land. Though Romina had passionately argued for sending the Holy Orders into Raltaow to force the Queen to submit, the Pontiff had flatly refused, citing the six previous failures to do just that over the last five hundred or so years. The passes were just too great an advantage to the Raltaow forces. An invading force couldn't even overpower the defenders with sheer numbers because of those passes. Of course, the Pontiff was looking at ways to pressure the rogue kingdom without using military might, but this other matter was different.

The church had four militant orders, each with four hundred members, all of whom were from noble families who had taken holy vows and been completely indoctrinated in Church Dogma. They were fanatics and zealots, who did nothing but train and pray while waiting for orders to protect Church interests or to punish heretics. Over the last couple hundred years, they had little chance to hunt heretics, but perhaps it was time to let them loose, mused the Pontiff. Each order had their own unique skill set, naturally, and their pure faith and obedience made them far more powerful than their base numbers would suggest. More than once, they had been the reason a king or queen ascended a throne instead of the rightful heir.

“Is this all?” Ritsuko asked, grimacing a little as she looked over the notes. The Captains exchanged glances.

“It is all we can find, Boss,” answered Rastali. Ritsuko grunted, memorizing the information. “We can keep looking…” he began slowly.

“Don't bother,” Boss cut him off. “Forget this and pay attention to the Kingdoms. They will probably try something soon. Intel says that the three surviving kings are imprisoned, which will make it almost impossible to settle things through negotiations; not that we didn't expect that,” she smiled coldly. “Due to some developments in Raltaow, we could be facing off with the Church, so keep a tight collar on the local churches and clergy,” she warned. A couple of the Captains glanced at each other.

“Are you sure that is wise, Boss?” began one. Ritsuko turned to stare at the woman coldly.

“The Church is a major player in how things were before. Do you wish to go back to that system so much?” Ritsuko all but growled. The Captains shifted their eyes a bit. “If you think that the Church has the slightest authority, you have already lost and might as well start running,” she pronounced, her anger flaring. “They are all con men and charlatans, using your own fear to make you slaves to them. That is no different than what the slave owners were doing to you. Is that how you want to live? Did I waste this much time on a bunch of superstitious cowards?” Ritsuko was nearly shouting now, her eyes scorching those she looked at. “If that is the case, say so now! I will not waste another second of my time or energy on those who lack the will to be their own master! You can do what you please, but no one will ever make me a slave ever again!”

“It isn't that, Boss,” began Rastali, nervously wetting his lips.

“Yes, it is that exactly,” cut in Ritsuko. “Either you rule yourself, or you are ruled by others. Which is it to be?!” she did yell this time.

“We could end up facing the Holy Orders,” another captain said. Ritsuko gave the woman a smile that made her cringe.

“Who do you think would win: me or the orders?” she asked, leaning closer to the woman.

“You, of course, Boss!” the woman exclaimed, sweating.

“Then you can beat them, too,” Ritsuko said. “I have said this before, but I will say it again: I gave you the chance at freedom, but being free must be your choice. Choose well,” she said before spinning on her heel and marching out, the elves following her, leaving her Captains at a cross road.

“Leash the churches,” said the Captain responsible for internal security.

“I'll start shifting troops forward, just in case,” Rastali grunted.

“Do you think Boss might be getting over-confident?” an aide asked timidly.

“No,” came the unified reply from the Captains and most of the people in the room.

“But she might be overestimating our abilities,” admitted Rastali.

That night, Ritsuko had Gabriella contact Airi. After telling her everything she knew about the nobleman, she mentioned the concerns about the Holy Orders. Airi and she talked for a full hour before breaking it off. Ritsuko idly chewed on a wild weed that had a sour taste as she stared up at the stars as she lay on top of Mike.

“What are you thinking, Ritsuko?” asked Milliea.

“I'm thinking we need to pay a visit to the seat of the Church and clip this thing in the bud,” Ritsuko said, her tone introspective.

“Is it that big of a deal? We've seen how easily you deal with enemy forces,” Rapier noted.

“Yeah, about that,” Ritsuko sighed. “Mike might be powered by magic, but the weapons systems use shells, and we haven't found any for nearly two years. I have used up just over half of the thirty-cal machinegun ammo and damn near all the fifty-cal. We have fourteen rounds for the main cannon, six of them training rounds or smoke - which are totally useless for fighting this sort of war. I need high explosive, incendiary and Willie Pete rounds, not smoke, training and armor-piercing. Effectively, I can't use Mike as much as I have been until and unless we can find more ammo for the gun systems. Why do you think I have been using the rifles more for the last six months?”

The elves were silent for a moment. “Does Airi know?” wondered Gabriella. Ritsuko nodded. “Is that why you are shifting the burden to the Rebellion?” she guessed.

“Partially,” was all Ritsuko would say. “But enough about that. I figure I can pay the head of the church a visit and put the fear of Boss into him, which should stop him from getting involved until we can deal with the Congress of Lords.”

“And after? You will have made a powerful enemy,” warned Gabriella.

“The Church's power lies in fear of the unknown. I don't fear that,” Ritsuko answered simply. “Our timetable for dealing with the nobleman is tight, and we still need to find out what happened to Celsia, so we are under the gun now,” she sighed, spitting out the weed and sitting up. “Let's get some sleep. We have a lot of ground to cover and little time to do it,” she told the elves as she got comfortable in her usual sleeping spot: cuddled up to Mike's turret.

The Pontiff finished his evening prayers before preparing for bed. His attendants completed their duties and he made his way toward his bed. With mid-summer on the Capital, the windows were open for the cooling breeze. The Church had a city within a city in the Capital, and was treated as a sovereign state. At the four cardinal points of the city were the mother temples of the Holy Orders. Private guards patrolled the walls and gates of the Holy Seat, as the city was known. The Pontiff paused to enjoy the view for a moment before blowing out the lamps and getting into bed.

From time to time, unrest would cause friction with the Church, and sometimes that unrest translated into attacks against the church and its clergy. But the Pontiff wasn't worried; not one single attack had ever reached inside the walls of the Holy Seat since the first brick was laid, hundreds of years ago. In fact, the Kings or their families often sought refuge in the Holy Seat when things got too dicey for them. So, it was understandable that the Pontiff felt safe and protected.

Outside the walls, two figures slipped up to a spot of the wall that fell into shadow. A moment later, a grappling hook wrapped in cloth was swung up and over the wall, a muted sound coming from the hook as it met the wall's far edge. Since the wall was a defensive type, it had a walkway running along the top, though it lacked the crenellations in favor of regular triangles set side by side. The hook was slowly pulled toward the end, the rope tied to it making it much quieter than the usual chain. Once the arms of the hook caught the angled stones on either side, the tips bit into the stone through the muffling cloth. Slowly, the two figures pulled harder and harder, eventually both of them hanging from the rope as they tugged with their arms. The rope settled and stopped shifting. The two eased off the rope, keeping tension on it, but waiting as minutes passed.

Once several minutes had passed, the first figure jumped up, grabbing the rope - which had knots tied in it every couple of feet to aid climbing - and using their feet to lock on to the rope. The second steadied the rope so it didn't swing. The first began to swiftly, yet quietly climb the rope, using their arms and feet to climb the vertical thirty five feet to the top. When the first person was just past half way up, the second began to climb. At the top of the wall, the first carefully peeked over the edge, checking the inside and the wall to either side before rolling over the top. Crouching low, they waited until the other figure slipped over the wall before grabbing the hook and line, swiftly coiling it up and slinging it cross-body. With that done, the two silently dashed down the wall to where a storage building roof was close enough to jump to without risking falling through the slate.

From there, it was down the corner of the building to the ground, then into the shadows. Pulling up tightly-rolled bundles, the two unrolled them before pulling them on over their black clothes. With the dark brown robes on and tied with simple rope, the two pulled their hoods up, tucked their hands inside the sleeves of the robes and - heads down - walked with measured steps toward the main building. As they passed guards and other clergy, they made the sign of the Church, but said nothing. It didn't attract attention because the brown robes were the garb of an order of monks that took oaths of silence, poverty and piety. They were regarded by most as ultra-conservative idiots by most of the Church at large, but often found work in the seat of power for the church, mostly in the records vaults and in the service of the various Pontiffs and Archbishops.

Entering the home of the Pontiff unchallenged, they worked their way down the halls to the wing where the Pontiff's office was. The doors were unguarded, as the Pontiff was not in the office. The two entered the office, closing the door behind them and positioning a chair to block it. Moving to the windows, they studied each window before selecting one and easing it open. The two watched the guards on the distant wall and on the grounds below for quite some time before they had the patrol schedule. It was the small hours of the morning when they slipped out of the windows, carefully navigating the wall using decorative stone carvings and the shallow ledge to move down the wall and around the corner, then down that wall until they reached the open windows of the bedroom of the Pontiff. The two slipped into the room like shadows, sinking down to the floor and slowly, delicately crawling along the floor to either side of the bed.

Easing up slowly, the two saw the pontiff asleep in his bed. Looking at each other, the two confirmed the other was ready. At the signal, one threw a pillow over his face, pressing down hard while the other punched him in the solar plexus, forcing the air from his lungs. He struggled briefly before going still. After a few more moments, the pillow was removed, revealing an unconscious Pontiff. With swift, practiced economy, one pulled a ball of thin rope from under the robe, while the other hurried to the door, checking that the lock was turned before working one of the two chairs over to the door and wedging it shut, too.

Back with the pontiff, the first had secured the head of the church by the feet and wrists, a scarf used to blindfold the man, the corner of his sheet stuffed into his mouth and tied with a length of cord silencing him. The second approached as the first pulled up a small canteen and poured it over the man's face, not caring that some of it ran into the man's nose. “Brutal, Boss,” murmured the second, brushing back the hood to reveal her elf ears and black hair.

“Like I care, long-ears,” muttered Ritsuko as the man began to jerk and try to cough. Helpfully, Ritsuko grabbed his arm and rolled him over so he was face-down on his bed, the water draining out of him as he tried to cough but couldn't. After several minutes, he was left panting, but awake. “Do I have your attention, Pontiff?” Ritsuko whispered in his ear, her tone dark and menacing. “I am Boss, and I will make this simple. If you oppose the Rebellion in any way, I will take it as a direct act of war, and retaliate without mercy or restriction. Every clergy will be executed, every church burned to the ground, every worshipper persecuted and hounded. I will do this in all the lands, without mercy or restraint. I will sack and burn this place to the ground and build a whore house where your seat used to be. If I see so much as one of your brain-dead Holy Order knights leave their chapter houses, I will slaughter them all before cleansing this land of every last trace of the Church. Ask the Kings what I am capable of, what I have already done and what they fear I might do. I am Boss, and I do not bluff. You will never be out of my reach, never safe from my fury. Make an enemy of me at your own peril.”

Ritsuko pulled out her sheath knife as she rolled him over. Pressing the knife to his throat, she removed the gag. “Has my message to the Church been heard, Pontiff?” she hissed in his ear.

“You dare…” began the man, his voice rough. Ritsuko pressed the point of the knife into his larynx, making blood begin to seep from the small puncture.

“Yes or no answer,” warned Ritsuko. “Has my message been heard loud and clear?”

“Yes,” the man said a moment later after Ritsuko had eased the knife a little.

“Good,” Ritsuko purred. “Now, what should I do to insure that my message is understood? Cut off your ears? Gouge out your eyes? Rip your tongue from your mouth? Tear your manhood off? Crush your hands and feet? Carve my message into your flesh? What do I need to do to make sure my message is understood, Pontiff?” she asked, pulling her small back-up knife out and tracing his ear with the tip as she spoke. “Perhaps I should pour lead down your throat, or flay the skin from your body. What do I need to do to convince you and your church my message is true?”

“Your message is heard and understood,” the man managed even as Ritsuko traced the smaller back-up knife down his chest toward his groin. Ritsuko slowly stopped her downward trace.

“That is good to hear,” she said, “but do you believe I will do what I have said I will? Without proving it on your flesh, I find it hard to believe you believe my message,” she noted casually, the knife once more tracing downward. “Perhaps I should make it impossible for anyone in the Church to dismiss my warning by crucifying you to the doors of your own room,” the last came out as a snarling purr. Her back-up blade pricked his palm as she finished.

“I-I believe you,” the man managed.

“Do you?” wondered Ritsuko, absently twisting her main knife, still pressed to his throat, side to side. More blood seeped out. “Make me believe in your belief, Pontiff,” she purred.

“I swear by our Most Holy God, I believe you!” he nearly squealed. Ritsuko hummed softly, sounding unconvinced. “Saint Haliol preserve me,” he sobbed softly. That got Ritsuko's attention.

“Saint Haliol?” she snarled, grabbing his hair through the cloth bag that covered his head from lips up. Using her hand grip on his thinning hair, she twisted his head back and up even as she pulled him closer to her. “Tell me of this `Saint Haliol',” she snarled.

“Boss,” warned her partner softly, glancing significantly at the door. Ritsuko sheathed her knife and pulled out her handgun in silent answer to the concerns of the elf with her. The elf woman sighed softly, shifting her own robe to free up her access to two main gauche blades. While she didn't usually use weapons, Rapier was skilled with certain blade fighting styles, and preferred the long knife styles above the rest, as it worked best with her melee fighting forms. This could get messy, the elf thought uneasily. Is this why she asked me to come with her instead of Milliea?

“Talk or I will make you pray for death,” growled Ritsuko.

“S-Saint Haliol was a founding f-figure in the Church,” began the Pontiff. “He is the Patron Saint of t-tradition, honesty and order.”

“Like I care about that shit,” Ritsuko interrupted him. “Where did he come from? Where is his family from? Details, not propaganda, you fraud,” warned the woman.

“Our records,” the pontiff paused to wet his lips, “our records say he came from the west, either the Tear Islands or beyond.”

“Better,” Ritsuko murmured. “Where do the Haliol live now?” she asked.

“The Meadow Kingdom, near the border with the Western Kingdoms, they have a manor house there,” the Pontiff said.

“But that is not their `home' is it?” hissed Ritsuko, frustrated. “Do any of that house serve the church now?” she demanded.

“Not since the nunnery the family ran closed years ago,” the pontiff said, lying still to keep from triggering the woman. “It was located in the Western Kingdoms, just over the border from their manor,” he offered. Ritsuko made mental note of that.

“Is there anything else you can think of regarding them?” Ritsuko asked harshly.

“N-nothing comes to mind,” he replied.

“If I find out you lied about the tiniest detail, I will start with you,” warned the woman before she hit him with the hilt of her sheath knife, knocking him out cold. Rapier could practically feel the anger radiating from her like sunlight. Ritsuko sheathed her knife before signaling her intentions. Feeling the time slip by, Rapier hurried to help Ritsuko set things up the way she wanted them. Once she was satisfied, the two repeated their journey to the man's office where Ritsuko used one of her strange devices to light a stick of incense, which she used as a fuse for one her crude bombs. With that done, the two had slipped back out, making their way to a side gate. Approaching the guard, the two had made the sign of the Church before Rapier kicked the guard in the head, knocking him out. The two had slipped out of the gate and rejoined the others. By the time that the staff of the Pontiff were waking and preparing for their day, the group was already miles away, heading for their next destination.

The explosion in the study of the pontiff caused quite a stir, both in the city and the Hold Seat both. But what was more shocking was when the guards rushed to the Pontiff's room and found him tied to a wooden cross, hung upside down from the ceiling of his bedroom and bleeding from a wound to his throat. He had not said much aside from saying a demon had attacked him and that the Holy Orders were to remain in their cloisters until further notice by his personal order. The Church alchemist had studied what was left of their boss's study, but had been completely mystified by what had caused it or how. There was the usual finger-pointing and berating of the guards and severe questioning of the staff, as well as much scrutiny about the incident. Through it all, the Pontiff had remained mostly silent. When he did visit the Congress of Kings three days after the event, he had perused the armistice, announced the Church was not going to be intervening, and urged them to bring the conflict to a close as quickly as possible. This surprised and disappointed the kings, but they could understand as everything they had seen and heard told them who was behind the raid on the head of the Church. A private meeting with the Chairman of the Congress and a few close, trusted monarchs enlightened the Pontiff on what Boss was capable of, though he had to confirm that it was Boss to the Kings before they would tell him all the things that Boss had been reported to have done; as well as what their spies had proof she had done. The Pontiff left feeling physically unwell and with a nervous twitch in his spine.

That very night, a prominent church figure in the Western Kingdoms got a visit from Boss as well in her private quarters at the church she had once been a simple nun in. In her case, things were not so circumspect. Four cloaked figures had arrived just as the doors were being closed, beat the hell out of the priest assigned to the church on their way to the private apartment of the Archbishop, paused long enough for one of them to break the jaw of a drunken inn keeper who was slumped in a pew before forcing their way into the Archbishop's quarters. The archbishop had cast a magic spell at them, but one of the cloaked visitors had easily smacked it aside while two more grabbed her and threw her into a chair, holding her down by the arms.

“We need to talk, Romina,” Ritsuko said, pushing back her hood. The one who had deflected her spell did the same, revealing a dark elf.

“How dare you…?!” began the Church elf, only to receive a slap from the human.

“You will speak only when spoken to, Romina, or there will be consequences,” warned the red-haired woman.

“I am an archbishop in the Church…!” began the elf, only to receive another tooth-loosening slap.

“Do I look like I care?” snarled the red-head. “But since you are so hung up on that, let's talk about that for a moment,” smiled the human darkly. “You are an elf, serving in a position of imminence in a Church that holds elves to be soulless creatures of the dark. Obviously, the higher-ups and the lower-downs don't know. How about we parade you through town without your habit, long-ears, and see how much the church likes you then? And what of your…indiscretions before your gained rank? How would the good congregation feel about you taking advantage of the drunk inn keeper, or trying to murder people on the sly by burning them alive? I can't help but wonder what else you have been up to, you naughty little fraud. Maybe we should arrange a town meeting and find out?”

Romina had gone pale at the mention of the church finding out she was an elf, and her complexion hadn't improved any since. She was aware of the Church's views of elves, of course, but since she had risen to the third-highest rank in the church, to be found out now risked her being burned at the stake for heresy. The townspeople finding out didn't bother her as much as what she was sure they would do: expose her to the Church heads. A slap focused her thoughts again.

“Pay attention, Romina,” the red-headed human said, her tone chiding as if she were speaking to a distracted child. “As I was saying, there is also the issue with the elves. I understand you elves have your own gods and religions, and rumor has it that they are jealous gods, given to retribution for apostasy. I wonder if your clan knows you have converted to a heathen religion; let alone one that views them as soulless constructs of the Darkness? Perhaps they would find that interesting to know.”

The two people who had grabbed her stepped around so she could see them, brushing back their hoods to reveal a black-haired elf and a red-headed elf. Neither were smiling. Romina cataloged the group. A red-headed human woman, a dark elf, a light elf and an elf that appears to be wearing magic armor, in a group, and they all know I'm an elf serving as a high official in the human Church. This is bad. The testimony of the elves would outweigh any excuse I could give, while the human would be believed over an elf in the human community. How did this happen to me?

“Do we have your attention, Romina?” asked the red-headed human.

“Yes,” she replied, finding her hands had been tied behind her. “What do you want?” she asked them. The red-headed human leaned in close to her, locking gazes with her.

“We want to know everything the Church knows about the Haliol nobility. And we want to know right now,” she intoned. “I was given to understand that one of that family was a founding member of the Church, and that they had a home near here for quite some time. I also have been told that they might have been from beyond the Tear Islands. I want to know where they are from, where any living members of that family are, and I want to know damn fast. Do we understand each other, elf?” Ritsuko demanded. Romina nodded.

“Good! As long as you do what we ask, we will be far too busy with other things to worry about you, but if you cause us problems, we will not be so distracted by things that we won't end you. With that understood, tell us all you know about the Haliol legacy,” commanded the human, sitting down and absently toying with the end of her braided hair. Romina was reminded of the red-headed elf hunter, but this woman was nothing like her save for the red hair and that vague sameness all humans had to her eyes. It suddenly hit her who this human was.

“You're that `Boss' person, the one that leads the Rebellion, aren't you?” she breathed.

“What of it?” the woman replied, eyes hooded.

She doesn't even deny it! What is she doing all the way out here? Why me?! Romina silently lamented her hardship.

“Speak up before I get bored,” warned Boss, her eyes on Romina.

“Oh, uh, the Haliol family, right,” she struggled to organize her thoughts. Their `talk' went on late into the night.

“Couldn't help but notice we are going to be passing within a few leagues of the healer community,” noted Gabriella as she relaxed on Mike's turret. The tank was running along a smaller road at what she had come to associate with a canter, though the correlation was nowhere near the same. Ritsuko called it cruising speed. Though a horse could run faster than they were going, Mike could maintain this speed for hours on end without issue, while a horse would swiftly tire and founder.

“What of it? Want me to burn it to the ground, too?” came the grumpy reply from Ritsuko, who was sitting in the driver station, brooding from the look of things. The evening before, the group had run into a camp of soldiers. One thing led to another, and Ritsuko had left the camp and everything in it in flames.

“I am sure it wouldn't take me asking to get that result,” Gabriella replied easily. “I was thinking you could see if they have learned anything useful since your last visit; maybe get examined to see if you show any signs of anything,” suggested the elf.

“Why don't you get examined, Gabs, since you are such a fan of theirs,” came the reply.

“If it will get you examined, sure,” Gabriella answered her, catching her off guard.

“You would let a human healer examine you? Knowing they are barely witchdoctors and males? Will the wonders never cease?” grunted Ritsuko.

“I'll get examined, too,” chirped Milliea. “As long as you will,” she added, glancing at Ritsuko.

“Might as well make it a majority,” grinned Rapier.

“You despise most people, and male humans in particular,” accused Ritsuko to the kickboxer.

“No, actually I despise worthless humans and incompetent fighters,” corrected Rapier.

“So you would really let a human doctor - who I can assure you is very incompetent! - examine you like some train groper?” the red-headed human pushed aggressively. What is a train groper? wondered all the three elves silently in unison, though Ritsuko's meaning was clear from her tone and body language, even if the words were unfamiliar to the elves.

“If you will get examined, too, yeah,” came the casual answer. Ritsuko sent all three narrow-eyed glares. The three elves returned pleasant smiles.

“It wouldn't be like no one has ever seen you naked,” began Gabriella.

“Only because I couldn't kill them,” snarled the human. “No more, never again, over my dead fucking! body!” she yelled, standing in the driver compartment. “No one will ever touch me like that without my permission. Am I making myself clear?!” she warned them, her fists clenched.

“You are, though you are making little sense,” Rapier replied. Ritsuko bared her teeth, saying nothing.

“You are usually much more rational than this,” agreed Milliea. “What is wrong, Ritsuko? We're your friends, and want to help,” she pleaded sincerely. Ritsuko really wanted to argue, but couldn't since she knew the sword-using elf was incapable of subterfuge. Ritsuko sighed, slumping back into the driver position seat.

“Just…leave it be,” she said softly, knowing the hearing of the elves would pick it up.

“Maybe we would, if we didn't care about you,” came Gabriella's voice. Ritsuko didn't answer, one hand pressed to her lower belly. Her eyes drifted to an empty box tucked into the corner of the compartment, her lips twisting into a grimace. When they stopped an hour later, she walked away from the others, returning a half hour later with a sour look on her face.

“Moonlight mirror to Airi, Gabriella,” she said, unaware her hand was still rubbing her lower belly. Gabriella cast the spell, Airi and the Queen appearing in the spell a moment later. Glancing around her, Ritsuko held a somewhat lengthy discussion with Airi in Japanese. Airi's face gave nothing away, and Ritsuko's only betrayed irritation with an underpinning of introspection. After they were done, Ritsuko switched back to the native tongue of the Elf World and brought Airi up to speed on the developments and her tentative plans. Airi mentioned that the Queen was hot to get back into the field again, and she was considering doing a diplomatic sweep with the queen in the coming weeks. Ritsuko was silent for a long moment.

“Let's meet at Colleena's next month,” she suggested. “Unless there is a need for me to return to Raltaow, I will look into a few things down here and meet you and Kaislinn at Colleena's in about a month. Annette should have something for us by then, and the Congress should either be out of patience or out of time by then. Work for you?” she asked.

“I suppose,” Airi allowed. “I might bring Junpei with us,” she added.

“Whatever, but remember my warning,” Ritsuko replied tersely.

“You already shot him, Ritsuko, so you can't shoot him again,” smiled Airi.

Ritsuko gave a snort. “Watch me,” she purred, smiling a little.

“I also want you to check in with me every few days,” Airi continued. “I worry about you, and if you get in trouble, I need a way to know.”

“If I get into trouble, the Kingdoms will know it,” promised the red-head. “Besides, even if I got into trouble, what could you do? Call in the marines? I don't think so,” she pointed out. “And with these three around, I can't get into too much trouble, now can I?” she added rhetorically, absently gesturing to the three elves.

“I have faith in your abilities, Ritsuko,” smiled Airi. “But even if there aren't marines to call, I would come. I hope you know that.”

“I know that, Airi, and it makes me feel good to know that, but I want you to swear not to come if things go sideways. They can't win if one of us is left,” she smiled darkly. Stretching her arms, she signaled to Gabriella. “Anyway, we gotta go. I will call you later, Airi. Love you,” she added in a murmur.

“Be safe, Rit-chan,” replied Airi just before the spell was cut.

“Saddle up,” ordered Ritsuko, ignoring the questioning looks from the others. The group was swiftly back on the road, though Gabriella noticed they were moving off the road and along the edges of fields. Glancing at the sun's direction, she smiled. By nightfall, they were setting up camp an hour's walk from the healer's campus.

The next morning, Ritsuko and the others walked in. Moving right to the same building they had gone to before, Ritsuko and the elves had entered, finding the same secretary at the desk. “I told you I would be back for you, shithead,” purred Ritsuko, brushing back her hood, a dangerous smile on her lips. The man squealed and wet himself.

“G-g-g-go right i-i-in!” he managed, cowering in the corner. Ritsuko sent him a contemptuous glance before doing just that.

“Good morning, you primitive screw-heads,” she called out, banging the doors open. “Guess who's back?” she grinned evilly. The three elven women sighed, shaking their heads. The healers had been in a discussion, though there seemed to be some missing members, if the empty chairs were any indication.

“You again,” the one in the biggest chair said, blinking.

“Yeah. So, have you learned anything?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Your previous remarks have led to several new experiments and it would appear that some of your assertions were, in fact, possibly true,” the man said.

“Everything I said is true,” snorted Ritsuko. “How would you like to learn to make a product that will not only make you a lot of money for research, but also endear you to every human female on the planet?” Ritsuko asked. “But, there is a price,” she warned them, a truly unholy smile spreading across her lips.

The assembly was obviously interested, but also very leery of what the price might be. Ritsuko could understand, since her last visit had put them on their asses. “What are you suggesting, and what would the price be?” wondered the man who seemed to have drawn the role of spokesman.

“I am prepared to offer you a product for a woman's period - I think you primitive fucks call it `moon bleeds' or `monthlies' - that will be a guaranteed best-seller, but the price is that you will pay royalties to the kingdom of Raltaow and must provide a service for me, personally,” she replied, making her three companions shoot her sharp gazes.

“Intriguing,” allowed the head of the order. “But how do you know such a thing will be popular enough to be a revenue generator?”

“Well, for one thing, women don't like the feeling of blood seeping down our thighs, nor do we care for ruined undergarments,” came the acidic reply. “It is also far more hygienic than anything currently in use here if used properly, and I know other women will appreciate that. It is a woman thing,” she added, her tone disdainful. “Noble women in particular will be very interested in this product,” baited the red-head.

“What would be involved in making this item? We are healers, not merchants,” another healer spoke up. Ritsuko sent him a flat stare.

“Don't worry - you won't need to actually work or even known anything,” she bit back. “As for the costs, it will be relatively minor, since it is made of very common things,” she added. “Do we have a deal?” she asked.

By evening, Ritsuko was in an exam room with two healers - one of them the leading `authority' on Whore's Disease - and her three friends. Ritsuko stripped easily, since years of being a slave had broken every last trace of modesty she used to have, but kept her pistol in her hand. “Before we get started, you two charlatans need to know something,” warned Ritsuko ominously. “First is that if you get too touchy/feely, my girl over there will peel you like an apple,” she warned, indicting Milliea, who smiled brightly and nodded, hands on sword hilts. “The second things is that if you try any of your damn dark-ages bullshit treatments on me, I will fucking splatter your empty heads all over this damn room before burning this entire place to the fucking ground. And finally, with that understood, know that I am only doing this to get my three friends to shut up about it. Let's get this over with,” she nearly huffed.

“U-understood,” the junior healer said, eyeing the three elves and the naked woman in front of him. He noticed the scars and marks on her. “You…um, seem to have led a rough life,” he began.

“No chit-chat,” growled Ritsuko. “Examine me, tell me what you think you know and we can call our business done.”

“Yes,” he laughed weakly. “If you would please lie down on the examination table and spread your legs, knees bent, as if you were about to engage in relations with a man…”

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet, even as the two men felt uncomfortably hot. A click! sounded even as Ritsuko glared at the two with enough heat to practically set fire to them. “Easy, Rit-chan,” Gabriella said, touching the hand that held the pistol. Ritsuko had thumbed the hammer back to single-action.

“How about you fucking cut the commentary and just tell her what you need her to do, smart ass?” warned Rapier, her tone cold. “I don't know that we can keep her from killing you all this time,” she added.

“Eh,” managed the one who was going to examine her. When he started to reach for her exposed groin, Ritsuko spoke up.

“Wash your fucking hands, you damn moron. Did no one listen to my last lecture?” she asked herself, acid dripping from her words. The senior healer tossed his head, the younger man swiftly washing his hands in a bowl of water before carefully drying them. “You better pray your hands are clean, because if I get an infection, it's your head that will roll,” muttered Ritsuko, even as Gabriella touched her shoulder.

The two healers carefully examined her, using their fingers which almost got them shot, often pausing to have whispered consultations in the corner. Ritsuko glanced at Milliea and the other two, who had been tasked with listening to them and warning her if something started to go sideways. After a good half-hour, the two came back from a whispered consultation with some questions.

“Um, miss? Have you had relations with more than one man?” asked the younger of the two.

“I have been raped by many different men,” Ritsuko replied icily. “All but one of which are now dead,” she added nastily. “And he won't live long,” she promised. “Why?”

“We noticed a bit of tissue damage in your womanhood,” began the younger of the healers. “Um, have you accepted a man in your other orifice?” he asked.

“Once more, I have been raped by many different men, and yes, more than a few ass-fucked me,” came her tight reply, her finger absently tracing the trigger of her pistol.

“Oh, thank goodness, that explains the damage,” sighed the younger doctor in relief. Gabriella just barely grabbed Ritsuko before she could sit up and bring her gun around to likely empty the magazine into the two men.

“You goddamn fucking whoresons…!” she snarled as Rapier also grabbed her. The two healers found themselves with a blade in front of them and another behind them.

“That was a poor choice of words,” Milliea said, her expression unhappy.

“Our apologies,” the senior healer said, watching as the two elves managed to get Ritsuko calmed down again. “But there is scar tissue that we need to examine,” he offered.

“Get on with it, but keep your fucking commentary to yourselves,” panted Ritsuko, her face red with rage.

The younger doctor pulled a padded stool from the corner of the room. “I-if you would please bend over this, feet apart,” he asked, his voice wavering a little. Ritsuko studied the two for a long moment before doing as asked. Milliea had not re-sheathed her swords, and that was making the two nervous. The stool was almost waist-high, so when she bent over it, she knew exactly what was exposed. To her credit, she didn't shoot either of them during the examination of her rear door and sex.

When she was told she could straighten up, she sighed in relief. “I hate you three,” she muttered to the elves, who didn't argue. As she reached for her clothes, the healers stopped her.

“The exam isn't finished yet,” the older one said. “We have to check for a few more symptoms that appear elsewhere.”

“My patience grows thin,” warned Ritsuko. The two doctors could feel that easily. For another fifteen minutes, she was examined from her feet to her crown. Just before she decided to forget it and kill the two, they announced they were finished. She dressed quickly, but without a trace of embarrassment. “So?” she asked.

“We found no clear sign of Whore's Disease,” said the `authority'.

“But there were some signs of inflammation and scarring, as well as some indication of issues that may or may not be related to the Disease,” the younger one said.

“So, basically, I don't know any more than before you two fondled me,” sighed Ritsuko. “Not that I expected anything else,” she said. “I will be back later to check on the production of the product. You have the notes and diagrams, as well as the proposed steps for making all components. Follow them. And for god's sake, be sure to tell the customers to follow the directions about use exactly. Can you witchdoctors handle that?” she asked, pushing past them, her three friends following her as she headed for the main gate.

“We can,” called out the senior of the two. “What should we call you, miss?” he asked. There was no answer from any of the three.