When the Nayrangiyans came, they expected an easy campaign. They expected that the Empire of the Sun could strut in, briskly walk over to the city of Asor, and pilfer it for glory and riches and so on and so forth. At least, that is what Alukim thought. Pilfering the land of glory and riches and fathers, with all the pride due to the sun and stars.

Just who were these Nayrangiyans?

They were the builders of carts. The wielders of silver-bronze. Invaders from the east. Warriors. Devils. All of these things.

And who was Alukim?

She was once from a little village. She once had been the daughter of a farmer, condemned to being a daughter of a farmer and then a wife of a farmer and then a mother of a farmer or perhaps the mother of another daughter of a farmer. On and on again.

She was not this now.

Now she was a right hand with a spear of silver-bronze, and a left with a bronze disk. Now she was a twirl across the battlefield, in a helmet and a cuirass of lamellar and plate. She was a pile of corpses, all with a single wound in their eye, from where the life poured out. Now she was an army, a symbol. A warrior. A crest.

And now she was in Asor, with her women and men of Reulkhai and Asorium and Nimland. They feasted and they ate, but she sat with a War-Shaman.

He was a man of diminutive stature, but who walked like a leopard and a giant. Whose armor was politics and whose bane was warfare. And he had come to talk with her.

"Alukim," he said, "You've done well, haven't you?" he said with a cheery smile. He got none in return.

"The Nayrangiyans came in spring," said the humorless Alukim, "and it's fall now. Do you have news of my father?"

"Not yet, patience, Lady Alukim. I must beg your patience."

"You should beg my forgiveness," she said.

"So I shall beg that as well. This is a war, lady. And the High Priestess's spies and my scouts still have priorities."

"Then why is my father not a priority?"

"And why is Demiban's father not a priority? Or Vali? Or Polax. Or Gambinita," said the War-Shaman Tallin. Alukim grunted in response, which was supposed to be an effort, but which Tallin took as a cue to continue yammering.

"War is uncooperative. It likes keeping secrets. I cannot focus the efforts on the finding of a single father - it's not fair, it's not just, and it's not perfect. Am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong," said Alukim, "you're just an asshole."

And Tallin barked his signature laugh - a single shout of amusement, that happened to annoy Alukim to no end, "On that, Lady Alukim, we do agree."

"Well then why did you summon me here?"

"Do I need a reason to summon your ladyship?"

"We're not friends."

"You wound me," said Tallin, barking another laugh, "But I digress. You should remember, from the seventeen times I've told you, but what the hell, I'll tell you again - I'm not in control of the Astaritan forces. And they've fucked their operation hard, so I'll keep sending messengers for information, but they have a long run to go, and these Astari bureaucrats don't seem to be my friends either."

"You don't have many friends."

"Well you didn't want to be one," said Tallin.

"And I still don't," said Alukim.

"Regardless," Tallin went on, "what I do know is that your efforts have bogged this Nayrangitan force down severely." Itan. The sign of a city accent. Tallin may have never left this city. He was more politics than soldiery.

"So what do I care if some Eastern Emperor is bogged down?"

"You should care, because he's gotten out of the swamps and mudbanks. He marches on Versae within two weeks."

"So you want me to kill him?"

"No," said Tallin, "I want you to let him win?"

"What?!," said Alukim, "isn't the point of warfare to defeat your enemy?"

"The Young Emperor seems to think so?"

"So that's your brilliant plan? You're going to do the last thing he expects you to do and lose on purpose?"

"Well," said Tallin, "yes."

Alukim stood up and began to walk out.

"However." said Tallin.

Alukim stopped.

"You're not simply losing on purpose. Put him on his guard. Put doubt in his head. Make sure that you buy enough time for Versae that he decides perhaps he should winter there."

"That's your plan? Wait him out?"

"As far as you know."

"And why, pray tell, are you being so cryptic?"

"Why, if you're captured, I don't want you spilling my secrets."

"You're a paranoid asshole."

"I thank you, Lady Alukim," said War-Shaman Tallin, with mock respect.

"I'll do it."

"I thought you might. You leave tomorrow?"

"Two days. I need my armor repaired."

"Ah, that reminds me. I have a present for you."

"I'm still not your friend," said Alukim with a grunt.

"You're my colleague. And here is your gift."

And so, Alukim was presented with a helmet shaped like a lion, shining like gold, and a pair of lionsfur pelts to go over the shoulder and waist.

"Lions?"

"If all goes according to plan," said Tallin, "when you succeed, the Young Emperor will think twice of trading blows with the Lion of Versae."