The Crow and The Rabbit

Four weeks after Taradira arrived, the negotiations came to a close.

Emperor Ines Camus called an assembly. The people of Celngi filled the coliseum, commonfolk standing shoulder-to-shoulder inside the central ring, all staring up at the podium where the emperor stood as she explained that there would be peace between the two nations. The crowd cheered when she moved to address the refugees, listing multiple options to those that lost their homes to war. Quiet murmurs filled the air as she brought up becoming citizens of Ettsgras on their side of the new border, followed by silence as she talked of the option to go north and find a new, temporary life there while Celngi rebuilt.

Ferene stood behind her, listening and observing. At the end, Ines turned, gesturing her forward. Uncertain, Ferene stepped into view of the masses below.

"My Father, Emperor Mirko, bestowed the title of Emperor's Blade onto this woman. She served not only him, but also myself, with unwavering loyalty, despite never knowing what life in the empire was like, despite being brought here against her will. She fought and risked her life for Celngi's people, but now she wishes to return to her previous life. Ferene is my friend, and I am granting her request. In person, she leaves us, but if she is to ever return, she will be treated as a hero of our nation."

The crowd cheered at Ines' speech, leaving Ferene looking down at them in confusion. When the emperor tapped her shoulder, she stepped back. "I didn't-"

"You had multiple chances to kill my father and send the empire into disarray. If you were loyal to Ettsgras, you would have done that, without hesitation. You stood by your own judgment. This is the least we can do." Ines spoke quietly, just to Ferene, before addressing the people again, explaining her plans for reconstruction going forward.

Taradira watched the theatrics from an alcove to the side, elevated and isolated from the crowd.

"What do you think of her now?" She asked, looking at Varnon.

The young councilman nodded in approval. "I think we can trust her to do as she says. She has the trust of the people, and that will go a long way to keeping her in her position. I don't sense a large amount of dissatisfaction with the outcome of our negotiations, either. What is your opinion on her?"

"This is a lucky outcome that I did not win. I'm not sure I'm satisfied with it, but I don't get to do it again."

"What do you mean?"

"I tried to use Ferene to intimidate them, make them think that Wellent, and Olentor by relation, were tempted to join in the war. They saw through it and took her captive. From what I can piece together, her being in the capital pushed the man who killed the previous emperor into action. That man was manipulative and she weakened his grasp on the situation, so he took control directly. No Ferene, no dead emperor, no surrender, no peace. But her coming here was not my intention. I misread the situation, and it happened to result in a highly favorable outcome for me."

"Everyone makes mistakes. You have to work with it."

Taradira nodded, looking back, to where Nenhal and her eight companions stood, silently observing. That was another source of regret - she allowed them to go with Tullund for his plan, both to determine their effectiveness in battle as well as give them a chance to learn about the world. That lesson came with death. Her observations of the group since their return showed them vastly different than when they left. Tullund handled them well. He could have been a great leader, if he had the heart for it.

Afterward, Ferene followed the emperor back into the palace, the path slowly becoming familiar to her, realizing the destination just as the two stepped into the tailor's workshop. Ines turned to look at her, Ferene stopping, her eyes fixated on the center of the room. A mannequin stood, adorned in a simple green tunic wrapped in a brown leather vest. Slowly, she walked forward, hand outstretched. Like her current uniform, the leather vest had metal plates inside, which would function far better as armor than her old leather chestpiece.

"We asked Taradira for input on making some travel clothes for you. She says she wants to leave tomorrow." Ines smiled as she spoke.

Ferene nodded. "Thank you." She said, unsure what else to say, what else to feel. She never thought much about her clothes. The old shirt and armor she wore for so long, washing blood, sweat and dirt off repeatedly as she traveled was never something she concerned herself with. She stole them from one dead man, and replaced parts with things she stole from others as she needed, until she bought a new jacket in Riverhill. The clothes before her now were better than any of those.

"As I said before, you are always welcome back here. I expect you to outlive me, and have prepared for that. Be it in two years or two hundred years, you will be remembered. No matter what happens where you are going or how long it takes, when you return here you will be treated as a friend."

Silently, Ferene nodded again, swallowing her words. She remembered Wellent, and the queen banishing her from the country. Ines' promise made her heart pound faster. Looking at her new clothes again, she tried to think what she would have felt about this before. The old her, the one that didn't know Ines, or Cerise, or any of the Hatheren. The one that didn't even know Tullund. Her past self that only knew anger - what would that person think? Would she know what or how to think?

Guiltily, Ferene realized she might not have a reason to come back. If Taradira had her way, Ferene could stay in Yonthal with Rilya as long as she wanted. Before that, she'd see Velan again, probably. Taradira had to go back to Ettsgras first.

"I'll remember you." She decided to say. Ines smiled at her, something unfamiliar to Ferene in the woman's eyes.

The men waiting outside the city were glad to see Taradira again. She kept a messenger going back and forth every few days, keeping them up to date with the proceedings, and carrying further word back to the former front line about the changes to the situation. With the new border finalized, another rider ran east, newly printed maps in hand, while Taradira instructed Thoms to have the men pack up and move out. The small force followed the path of the rider east, leaving the Imperial capital behind them. Ferene stayed at Taradira's side, silent again. Nenhal and her companions followed suit, their awkwardness replaced with determination.

On the way back to Ettsgras, they bypassed Galbr and Barakin, stopping at Naymoor where a small fraction of the invasion force waited. One of her orders during the peace talks dismissed the majority of the army, leaving less than a quarter active. Taradira collected Selveren from a hospital tent outside the city. There was a brief look exchanged between the man and his daughter, but no words. With the two getting along well enough, she sought out her other Hatharen guests, moved from Barakin to Naymoor. She found Grathen in the city, working with a blacksmith. Zasthagel was in the command tent, wearing a mask over his face.

"All of you, out." She said, banishing the humans. Frennich and Gallen quickly exited, a younger officer and an old man who looked like a local following. "You too, Thoms." Taradira said to her assistant. A look of hurt flashed across his face as he turned and left.

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Moving to a chest at the side of the room, Taradira pulled out a map, carrying it to the table and spreading it out over the map of the Celngi-Ettsgras border. This map showed the northern reaches of the Independent Lands, Olentor, Wellent, and the mountain range. The Hatharen strongholds were marked. "I want you all to know what I plan, in detail. Grathen doesn't know the full situation of our people. Ferene only ever visited one stronghold. All of you, from the forest, don't know our people at all. You may choose not to go along with what I have planned, but if you do, I have a greater request for you."

She traced the curving mountain range with her finger. "This barrier is the home of our people. Seven strongholds line the mountains. From west to southeast, there is Treventhal, Yonthal, Valerahal, Ravthal, Helrare, Vilventhal, and Aesuthal. I am going to summon as many of our people as I can from every stronghold to meet at Aesuthal, the largest stronghold. From there we will march into the wastelands and eliminate the monsters. To this end, I will be enlisting the help of the humans. I made a deal with the emperor to have the people of Celngi come and watch over the strongholds, to take care of fields and livestock while we fight. I will make the same proposal to the king of Ettsgras. I will also extend the offer directly to the soldiers of my army. A few hundred is all that is needed there. A few hundred more will follow the Hatharen army north, providing supplies and support but not fighting. I would have you form the inner circle of this army."

None of them objected, but one spoke up. "Why would the Hatharen follow you?" Grathen asked, his face blank. "The human part I can see, but what sway do you have with all of these strongholds? Are they not each independent? How can you be sure each will be willing to go along with your plan?"

"Ferene was adopted by Yonthal and her bloodline comes from Treventhal. I returned two of Valerahal's missing people. I'm from Vilventhal, and I have a contact in Aesuthal. This is all secondary to the fact that I'm offering our people something they all desperately want. I'm giving them a chance at freedom. A chance at victory. They will take it. If not just for themselves, for each other. Everyone who has fought beyond the mountains knows our people are slowly dying out. Instead of accepting that fate, I'm offering a chance to win. There is no reason not to take it."

Selveren was the next to speak, but he did not address Taradira. Instead he approached Zasthagel. "I can fix that."

"Fix what?"

"Your face. The bleeding. If you want."

The branded Hatharen shook his head. "No, this is-"

"Do it," Taradira cut in. "No more bleeding and wearing masks."

He frowned, running a finger across his face, smearing the blood slowly seeping from the wound. "I tried, once. It was painful and unsuccessful."

Selveren nodded. "A human doctor wouldn't know what to do. They don't know how your body works. My methods will be even more painful. There is metal embedded in the maxilla. The human doctor probably tried to find and pull those pieces of metal out. They are barbed, to not be pushed out by the natural growth of the bones, so they cannot be pulled out with force. I would remove the skin from the front of your face, and then cut the bone away. Not something a human would think to do. I've done several experiments with removing my own bones. Humans can't do that, but we are different. I can fix you. Also," He turned to Taradira. "You owe me experiments. I want to cut your stomach open and examine your internal organs, to see how they differ from the human female. The-"

Taradira had no doubt that he would explain every possible idea he had in detail if she didn't stop him. "Yes, Selveren. I haven't forgotten. When we return to Ettsgras, I will take a break before moving north. You may cut me up then. Enough of this tangent. We have more important things to talk about. Nenhal." The young warrior stood up straighter. "You know nothing of the battle we will be moving towards. Your elders, however, do. On the way north, I want to stop by your home and see how much support I can gather. Your people are Hatharen, and I need as large an army as possible. Will you allow me to do this?"

Nenhal nodded stiffly. "We will fight with you. There may be others that will follow us if we go back, even if the elders do not."

"Thank you. Ferene. After we get back to Ettsgras, I'm going to send you to the northwest. You'll deliver messages to Yonthal and Treventhal."

A thoughtful expression passed over Ferene's face, and she spoke up. "Can Grathen come with me?"

Taradira wasn't sure what to make of the request, but decided to trust Ferene. "Yes. I wanted him at Aesuthal, but you will have to go there eventually. Do what you want. Selveren and Zasthagel will stay with me, as neither of you are welcome in your strongholds."

"Why me?"

Grathen followed Ferene after Taradira dismissed them all, a look of curiosity on his face. Ferene met this with a frown, suddenly less sure of herself. The idea came in the spur of the moment, and since then she started to doubt it. "There's someone you should meet. I think they will want to talk to you."

For a moment, he looked at her, his eyes unreadable. She saw it then, the same kind of old knowledge that Tahrean possessed. Knowledge of things she would never understand, visions of things she could never see. "Very well." He nodded, and looked away.

Some part of her wanted to reach out to him, to seek acceptance, but she pushed that away. As he himself said, she was not a Knight of Resh. That group was gone. Ferene's choices and where they lead her were her own. Instead of calling out, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Can I talk to you?"

Selveren's voice called to her, and she turned to see him standing there, his hands at his sides, looming. "What do you want?" she asked, keeping her expression neutral. His own broke into a wide smile.

"Will you tell me about your time in the stronghold? Outside of the fighting." He quickly clarified, his smile breaking. "How you got to know the Hatharen. Before they banished you. I…I never asked about that. That is part of how you found me, why you found me. We can talk about our people. Together."

For a moment, she hesitated, before nodding.

When the army finally returned to the capital, only a small fraction of the original number remained. Many split off in groups on the way, going back to their various homes in the kingdom. Those that lived in Ettsgras or to the east marched with Taradira and her group of Hatharen, returning as triumphant victors. The city was more equipped to celebrate the return of a thousand than to host ten times that number. They were welcomed into the city proper, the old campsite barely recognizable in the shadow of the city.

Leaving her entourage behind, Taradira went directly to the king.

"Your Majesty."

King Roland of Ettsgras stood alone in his study, staring at a tapestry on the wall. It depicted an open field with rows of small bushes and flowers stretching across the cloth. "General Suladan." He turned to look at her, his face stiff for only a moment before it broke into a smile. "I did not doubt your ability, but it is good to see you return safely."

That smile brought up an old memory. Coming back from the south decades ago, only to be greeted at the palace gates by the young prince, the same smile on his face. In front of her now stood an aging man, time taking its toll on his body.

"If not for several strokes of luck, I would have taken much longer to return."

Moving to the center of the room, Roland nodded to her. "Luck or not, the debt this kingdom owes you has grown only larger, Taradira Suladan."

She had heard him, and his forefathers, say the same thing time and time again, and she always ignored the praise, accepting it and pushing the conversation forward. This time, the words gave her an opportunity. "I would like to collect some of that debt."

He took some time in reacting, betraying how unprepared he was for her response. "What is your wish, Taradira?"

In that instant, she felt a shadow of fear. It was possible for him to deny her, to withhold his support. She had made plans in that eventuality, but the possibility, however unlikely, made her hesitate slightly before speaking. "I would like the support of the people of Ettsgras in a personal campaign abroad." She said, speaking firmly. "Rather than armies, I ask for supplies and people to transport them, as well as the engineering division and their expertise with the newly developed siege weapons. Finally, civilians. I need people to assist in maintaining land while the native warriors are away. Anyone displaced by the war is welcome."

Tilting his head slightly, the king contemplated this, and Taradira could hear her heart beating in her chest. Twelve beats later, Roland nodded. "I will set things in motion. You will have access to whoever you need to talk to, of course, to get the best people for the job."

Taradira nodded her head forward. "Thank you, your majesty."

"This is a small request in comparison to what you have done for Ettsgras."