The Shattered Crowns

Reman fell into step behind Daenys, voicing no further thoughts. However, he muttered just loud enough for himself, "Not even a word of consultation. Where is the respect for another warrior?"

Daenys, oblivious to his frustration, focused on memorizing the streets as they moved through them. Some of the warriors who had pledged their blades to her trailed behind, their small group weaving through Karlon in search of the vantage points she had described.

"If we take this alley," Merd said, darting ahead, "there's a staircase that leads to the rooftops."

Tasha fell into step beside Daenys.

"Make sure you remember these routes," Daenys instructed. "When the time comes, you'll lead a group of men through these streets."

Tasha cocked an eyebrow. "You've yet to tell us what you're planning, Daenys."

Before Daenys could respond, Merd piped up, "Is this what you were looking for?" They reached the top of the stairs, and the city of Karlon spread out before them, vast and complex.

Merd pointed toward the skyline. "That's the main monastery, the tallest building over there, and next to it is the resin hall. Every road from the gates feeds into that intersection."

"How many gates and main roads are there?" Daenys asked.

"There are four main roads in the northern half of Karlon," Merd explained. "The southern section is blocked by the sea and the ports. The west is dominated by the Pickette and the crater."

"Which leaves the north and east," Daenys murmured. Her gaze swept the horizon, past the walls, golden grass, and white trees. An Astad army sat in the distance, waiting.

"I need more places like this," Daenys said, gesturing at the rooftop. "Spots where I can monitor the main roads. Can you convince others in the city—friends, perhaps—to help guide our men to locations like these?"

Merd hesitated, biting her lip. "I'm not part of a gang."

Tasha laughed dryly. "And I'm not a Reaver."

"I'm not—" Merd began again, but Daenys cut her off, her patience worn thin.

"I don't have time for this, Merd. Answer the question."

"I'll try to convince them," the girl said, ducking her head.

"I don't need someone who will try. I need someone who will succeed before Astad's forces march through Karlon."

Merd straightened, her voice firmer this time. "It will be done, Ma'am."

Daenys nodded. "Good. Now, tell me more about this city where we'll make our stand."

"The nobles live in the resin district, while the rest of us are in the gold district," Merd explained, her tone sour. "Not that there's any real gold there. It's just a fancy name for the slums."

"And the Pickette?" Tasha asked.

"It's where the Black Baron commands Karlon and where the resin stores are kept," Merd said.

Daenys muttered to herself, "It would be simple enough, but there's still the problem of moving the archers." She paced back and forth as Tasha and Reman watched in silence.

"From here," Daenys continued, gesturing to the rooftops, "there are plenty of places to hide. We'll also need to set up obstacles to block the streets for retreating forces."

Reman frowned. "And what exactly are you planning, griffin?"

"It has to work," Daenys replied, sidestepping the question.

Tasha jabbed playfully, "Who's going to protect you if you don't share your grand strategy?"

"I don't need protection," Daenys said sharply. "I'll be guiding the flow of this battle."

Neither Tasha nor Reman voiced their objections aloud, waiting for her to elaborate.

Daenys turned back to Merd. "Is it possible to run across the rooftops? They look close enough."

"Some are farther apart than they seem," Merd admitted, "but it's doable."

"Then you'll teach the archers how to move across them," Daenys commanded, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

This could work.

"I'll need a map of Karlon and something to write with," Daenys said. Merd scrambled off, returning a short while later with parchment and a quill.

Seated on the golden shingles of the roof, Daenys began sketching the city. Merd pointed out landmarks while Daenys marked potential ambush sites.

"We'll need to block the roads," Daenys muttered, mostly to herself, her quill scratching furiously across the parchment.

"Do you have cranes or scaffolding in the city?" she asked suddenly.

"Cranes?" Tasha echoed, puzzled.

Daenys sighed. "A device for lifting heavy materials. My friend explained it to me once."

Tasha's baffled expression was all the answer Daenys needed. She exhaled heavily, disappointed.

"We have holders to keep building materials from falling off rooftops," Merd offered. "But I've never heard of cranes."

"What do they hold?" Daenys asked.

"Boards, mostly. And anything else needed for construction."

That would do. If they brought the holders down and rigged them with latches, they could cut the ropes, letting the wood crash into the streets to block enemy movements.

Daenys tapped the map with her finger. "Once we've identified all the access points to the roofs, our men will be ready."

Reman grunted. "And will you finally tell us this grand plan of yours?"

"It's simple," Daenys said. "We'll whittle down the reinforcements as they move through the city. By cutting off access at the main roads and scrambling their forces, we can weaken them and secure a victory."

Reman's frown deepened. "If you're planning this, we'll need more than vague signals for when it's time to retreat. If our men are out of position, we'll crumble faster than we anticipate."

Daenys nodded. "A signal, then."

Before Reman could respond, a low, unfamiliar voice cut through the air. "Speak, Enlightened, or your silence will not end peacefully."

Daenys turned sharply. A man leaned against the wall of a house, slowly running a whetstone along the edge of his blade. His hair, as dark as stygian iron, was tied in a simple knot, and white bandages wrapped the upper portion of his head and cheek. His eyes, an otherworldly shade of blue, bore into her.

He wore ceremonial robes patterned with black and white squares, an odd contrast to the dangerous aura he exuded. His weapon—a longsword adorned with six jagged protrusions—gleamed like polished steel.

All of Daenys's instincts screamed to avoid him. No one survived battle without armor unless their skills were unparalleled.

Reman pointed his spear at the stranger, his posture defensive. Tasha's hand hovered near her sickle.

The man finally spoke, his voice calm but unsettling. "I seek my Arsene."

"And why should we trust you?" Reman growled.

Before tension could escalate, Daenys stepped in. "Easy, Tasha. Reman. I'll hear what he has to say, as I've heard others."

The man inclined his head slightly. "As I said, I seek my Arsene. These odds will do nicely." Then, without further explanation, he knelt before her, his piercing blue eyes never leaving hers.

"My Arsene will be completed if I follow this path," he declared. "I am Tengri, and I will protect you."

Without another word, Tengri returned to sharpening his blade, as if nothing had happened.

Shaken but unwilling to let it derail her focus, Daenys returned to her planning.

They continued through Karlon's winding streets, Merd leading the way. The roads were cobbled, their edges crowded with buildings that jutted out at odd angles to make room for homes. The main road was wide enough for four horsemen to ride abreast, much larger than Daenys had hoped, but the towers flanking it offered strategic potential.

"That building," Daenys said, pointing, "would be a good place to station archers."

"It should be easy enough to climb," Merd confirmed.

Their walk brought them to a large structure, taller than most of the surrounding buildings. Its long pillars and wide entrance gave it an imposing air, even during wartime.

"That's—" Daenys began, but Merd finished for her. "It's Karlon's monastery."

Daenys circled the building, assessing it. "It would make an excellent spot for archers. Its sides are natural outcrops. Impossible for Astad's forces to breach. If we used hot oil—"

Merd's face paled. "You'd desecrate Tarneth's holy ground for war?"

Daenys didn't flinch. "Honor won't win this battle. I can't afford to forgo any advantage."

Merd hesitated, her voice trembling. "You'd damn your soul for a battle?"

Dark circles shadowed Daenys's eyes as she turned to face the group. "My best friends are dead, and I stand alone in the midst of war. If this isn't damnation, then I don't know what is."

The others fell silent.

Let the gods damn her soul, Daenys thought. She would do what needed to be done to save her sister and her home.

Daenys's thoughts turned to the signals needed for her plan. They had to be simple, visible, and impossible to misinterpret.

"Merd," she said, her tone commanding. "Is there a place where I can see all the main streets? Somewhere I can signal from?"

Merd pondered for a moment before answering. "The Belferary. It's the tallest tower in the city, apart from the Pickette."

"That will have to do," Daenys said.

Merd brightened. "During one of Tarneth's festivals, colored powders were used. There might still be some left. We could use them for signals."

Daenys nodded thoughtfully. "It's a start. I'll look into it."

The powders posed potential issues—wind, visibility, misinterpretation—but they were better than nothing.

The weight of her plans pressed heavily on Daenys. A single mistake could save or doom entire groups of men. This responsibility was hers to bear, and hers alone. Even so, she would not falter. She had no choice but to succeed.