Eryshae

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Commander Toya Sidney

Commander Sidney waited near the largest tent, her uniform damp with blood and sweat. Her red hair was tied back now, her face unreadable as the captured bandit knelt inside, hands bound behind his back, a cloth stuffed between his teeth.

Vael approached, her boots dragging slightly. Her blades had been cleaned and sheathed, but her knuckles were raw. "Ready?" Sidney asked, glancing sideways at her. Vael nodded. "Let's find out who would dare strike us before we even reach Emberhold." Sidney gave a grim smile and yanked the tent flap aside. "Let's begin."

The scent of blood still clung to her; iron and ash; but it didn't bother her. The bastard kneeling in front of her had the look of someone more familiar with knives than cause. She didn't need his name. She needed his employer.

The bandit twitched against his bindings, breathing ragged through his nose. The gag stayed in; for now. Vael lingered behind her, arms folded, jaw tight. Sidney knew she wanted answers. She did too. Sidney circled the man slowly, boots crunching over the straw they'd scattered to soak the blood in the tent. She let the silence stretch, heavy and uncomfortable.

"Three of my guards," she finally said, voice low and cold. "Slit throats. Efficient. I'll give you that." The bandit's gaze flicked up, one eye already swelling shut.

She crouched beside him, letting her tone remain flat. "You were hauling the bodies. That wasn't for fun. That was to send a message. Or to hide them." She cocked her head. "Which was it?"

No answer. Not yet. She reached into her belt and unsheathed her dagger; not the standard-issue blade, but a sleek, curved knife with a bone hilt carved in the shape of a wolf's fang. She tapped it against his shoulder lightly, then motioned for Vael to remove the gag.

Vael hesitated, then stepped forward and pulled the cloth free. The bandit coughed, spitting blood. "You're not going to kill me," he rasped. Sidney smiled. "That depends entirely on what you say next."

He stared up at her, defiant. "You think this is about your damn convoy? You think the City of Ni gives a damn about a tribal princess and her glowing boy-lover?"

Behind her, she heard Vael inhale sharply; but Sidney lifted a hand to keep her still. "Oh," Sidney said softly, crouching lower until they were face to face. "So it is about the Princess and Vice-Chief." The bandit realized his mistake too late.

Sidney leaned in. "Here's what I think," she said. "I think someone wanted us to look weak. You didn't come to kill the Princess; you came to shatter morale. You wanted the camp scattered, the convoy broken, and chaos when we reached Emberhold. That tells me one thing."

She pressed the dagger's tip lightly to his chest; just enough to nick cloth, not flesh. "You're not the leader," she whispered. "You're the distraction." The bandit clenched his jaw, blood sliding from a cracked lip.

"Who paid you?" Sidney asked, her voice still calm. "Who hired you to hit us in the dark?" The bandit said nothing. Sidney exhaled slowly and stood. She turned toward Vael. "Give me five minutes. Alone."

Vael hesitated; then gave a slow nod and stepped outside. Once the flap fell closed, Sidney rolled her shoulders and turned back to the man. She took her time cleaning the dagger. "You're right about one thing," she said, almost conversational. "We do need you alive."

She looked up and smiled again. This time, there was nothing warm in it. "But that doesn't mean you have to be whole."

Commander Toya Sidney took her time. She turned the dagger in her fingers, letting the torchlight gleam along its curved blade. The bandit's breathing grew louder, uneven, but he held still. She noted the tension in his shoulders. The bravado had started to crack.

"You know," she said quietly, "I've seen men spill their guts in all kinds of ways. Some talk. Some scream. Some try to laugh through it, like that buys them time. It doesn't. Time is a thing I take from you now."

He twitched; but she didn't slice yet. "I'm not here to punish you," she said. "I'm here to cut the lies away, piece by piece, until all that's left is the truth." A clean, shallow cut along the forearm. Not deep; just enough for the skin to part and blood to well.

The bandit hissed but didn't cry out. Toya wiped the blade on his tunic, slow and precise. "Who paid you?" He said nothing.

She slipped the dagger behind his ear and traced it lightly down the side of his neck. "I could start with a name. A region. Even a sigil. Anything." Still nothing. She pressed harder; just a pinprick. Blood beaded under his ear.

The bandit finally broke. "A man in black armor," he breathed. "Didn't give a name. But he carried a gold and black token; sun sigil, stylized. Like rays... burning outward."

Sidney froze. Her face betrayed nothing, but her mind spun. That sigil didn't belong to the Eryshae. It wasn't the City of Ni, either. San. One of the old militant city-states.

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The fire in the interrogation tent crackled low, casting long shadows on canvas walls. But her mind was far from the flickering light.

Military city-state of San. The name alone was iron in her mouth. She had walked its black corridors before. Heard boots strike stone in unison like war drums. Watched children salute their instructors with bloodied knuckles and empty eyes. In San, strength wasn't a virtue; it was currency, weapon, and gospel. A city where soldiers were bred like crops and civilians existed only to serve the machine.

The San-born didn't bow to diplomacy. They marched through it. She remembered the last time she stood beneath the shadow of San's wall; soaring black ramparts crowned with siege towers, glinting like the ribs of a beast coiled around its hoard. The Warden-General hadn't looked at her like a peer. He'd looked at her like a variable.

Now the sigil turned up again. A sun with speared rays; burnished into the arm of a common killer. Not a soldier, not even a loyalist. Just a weapon set loose to bleed the road. "This wasn't rogue. It was sanctioned," Toya thought grimly. "Not officially. Never officially. But San doesn't make mistakes like this. They make moves."

The convoy was always a gamble; Ni's idealism, Eryshae's independence. But with San? It was never about peace. Only positioning. Force. Infiltration. She glanced once more at the bandit's pale face. Disposable, just like all the tools San used and cast aside. They would never admit to sending him. But if this was only the beginning…

The bandit whimpered as he sagged against the bindings, blood leaking, eyes glazed from pain and fear. Commander Sidney stood before him; shoulders square, boots planted, dagger still in hand. Her gaze was flat, unwavering. "You could've walked away," she said quietly. "Could've turned your blade on wolves, not my people."

The man didn't answer. He couldn't. Not anymore. Toya stepped in close, grabbed his chin with one gloved hand, and tilted his head back. "For the three good soldiers you helped butcher," she murmured. "For the cook, the scout, and the boy with his whole damn life ahead of him; this is justice."

Her blade moved in a clean, efficient arc; swift and merciless. The gurgle that followed was brief. She held him until the final tremor left his body, then let him slump. The blood soaked into the dirt, dark and steaming.

Toya wiped the blade clean on his torn cloak; slowly, precisely; before sheathing it. She turned and pushed through the canvas flap of the interrogation tent.

The camp buzzed with grim energy. The scent of burned wood and blood lingered in the air. Fires crackled low; wounded soldiers were being tended to beneath canvas awnings, the soft murmurs of healers drifting into the night.

She walked toward the command tent where Vael waited, regal even amid fatigue, her eyes alert and rimmed with worry. Sam stood a few paces away, speaking with a healer. Toya's voice was like a drawn blade when she spoke.

"Princess Vael. I need a moment; both of you." Vael straightened, nodding to Sam, who stepped beside her with quiet urgency. Toya folded her arms behind her back, standing rigid with the discipline bred into her bones.

"It was no coincidence. The bandits weren't desperate men chasing coin," she said. "They were equipped, coordinated. They slit throats without waking a soul. That's training."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Training from who?" Toya's eyes locked onto his. "A sigil. The Sun, pierced. Modified to avoid immediate recognition, but I've seen it before. San." Vael's face darkened. "The military city-state?" she asked tightly.

"Yes." Toya nodded. "This was sanctioned; quietly, of course. San wouldn't risk open war. But they'd send dogs in the night to test our strength. Sabotage the convoy. Provoke us into retaliating first." "Why?" Sam asked, fists clenching. "Why now?"

Toya's jaw tightened. "Because peace makes San weaker. An Eryshae that is fully united limits their influence. Unacceptable to them, as they see peace as a battlefield they're not winning on."

She exhaled slowly. "We need to reach the Emberhold fast. If San struck once, they'll strike again. And next time, it won't be bandits. It'll be soldiers with uniforms they'll deny ever issuing, even upon our Eryshae land."

Commander Sidney's eyes swept over the dim camp; torn tents, bandaged limbs, faces too young for the blood they'd seen. The flames of the cookfires danced low, casting long shadows across a battlefield that wasn't supposed to be one.

She turned back to Vael and Sam, her tone clipped and resolute. "We break camp immediately." Vael arched a brow. "Now?"

Toya nodded. "Yes. I want these people out of the open and moving before dawn. We clean up; scrub the blood from our skin, our armor, our banners. We march with our heads high. If San wants to rattle us, they'll find a wall instead." Sam asked, "What about the wounded?"

"We'll take them with us," Toya replied. She looked between the two of them, voice lowering. "We're too exposed here. Every minute we linger, San has another chance to finish what they started. Emberhold is close. If we move fast, we'll be there before nightfall."

Vael crossed her arms, eyes narrowed in thought, then finally gave a tight nod. "Very well. Issue the orders." Toya gave a brisk salute. "With pleasure."

She turned on her heel and began striding toward her officers, barking orders with precise authority. Tents were pulled down. Armor was re-strapped. Raccoons were watered. Guards stood taller despite the fatigue. The wounded were carefully loaded into wagons; still breathing, still with them.

There would be time to mourn later. But for now, they would move. And when they arrived at Emberhold, Toya would make certain the banners of Eryshae flew high. Let San see that their knives in the dark had failed.

Commander Toya Sidney rode along the edge of the caravan, her fiery red hair pulled back tight beneath her helm. The forested path narrowed and opened again in rhythm, the terrain familiar; still Eryshae land, still theirs. But that didn't loosen the grip on her blade.

San's influence crept like fog across the water, and she didn't trust stillness. She turned her gaze behind her, scanning the traveling column. The wounded had been carefully packed on supply wagons, guarded with grim reverence. Her soldiers kept formation with quiet resolve. They'd buried friends this morning. The ache was still in their shoulders.

Ahead, just beyond the cooks' cart, Sam and Vael rode together. They weren't touching at first, just riding side by side, their silhouettes framed by the sun-dappled trees. But then Vael leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his, and he angled himself toward her in that unconscious way people did when they'd forgotten they could be watched. She said something low, and he laughed. Real laughter, warm and surprised.

Toya's breath hitched. Vael's hand slid into Sam's, resting easily between their saddles. They spoke no further, just rode in silence, tethered by that single point of contact. Toya looked away. Not in disgust, not in jealousy; just with the practiced distance of a soldier who'd learned to set things aside.

She knew what they didn't say aloud. That danger was never far. That love could vanish between heartbeats. But still they held hands. Still they smiled. "We're not safe yet," she muttered, low enough that only her mount might hear.