Brother-Commander Caethil rushed through the streets in a breathless gallop, his loping strides taking him past shattered buildings and the detritus of earlier riots. Here and there fires burned out of control, consuming entire homes in the aftermath of the Equestrians' bombardment of the city and silhouetting the adjacent structures against the night sky. A small crowd stood around a trio of whitetail and comforted one another as a young fawn cried into her mother's chest, a redtail guard yelling to a small contingent of deer in the distance for aid.

The war had taken its toll on everyone and everything -- including, it seemed, the patience of the Equestrians. It was unlike them to fire directly and indiscriminately into the city. He should have been cursing them, but found it difficult to do so when it was the fault of his corrupt and inept leaders that such things had not come to an end long ago.

The chaos of the inner city gave way to an almost alarming silence as Caethil made all due haste to the political sub-district, tucked firmly against the northern wall where the Equestrians had not managed to surround it despite their efforts. Here could be found the most important and powerful of the whitetail government, those who were not afraid to flaunt their wealth in a game of one-upmanship with their fellow politicos. Opulent homes stretched out beyond private gardens, many of them protected by small contingents of privately funded soldiers. Gold, crystal and marble were formed into sweeping deertongue prayers for good fortune, often accompanied by idealized statues of their owners in dramatic poses.

There, just ahead. A circular arrangement of relatively modest homes, those belonging to the newer or less ambitious senators. Caethil slowed to a trot as he caught his breath, his legs and lungs burning with exhaustion. It was not often he felt his age, but he certainly did then.

He pounded on the door, then waited. No answer.

"Come on, Praxilus, you bastard," he said through gritted teeth as he tried again, then a third time.

Finally, the sound of muffled hoofsteps. He exhaled sharply in relief.

The door swung open, a tired Praxilus standing before him and rubbing his eyes.

"Caethil? What are you--"

Caethil pushed his way inside, then shut the door behind him with a kick.

"Do you have your things packed? Are you ready to go?"

Praxilus stared; shook his head to wake himself. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what's going on right now. Weren't we leaving sometime in the afternoon?"

"The plan's changed," Caethil answered. "We have to move things up immediately, for I fear we won't have a chance to meet under ideal circumstances."

"What do you mean, 'the plan's changed'? Did something happen?"

"If we don't hurry then Trelis could awaken at any moment, and if the fires spread too far..."

Praxilus placed a hoof on the other's shoulder. "My friend, you're not making much sense. Are you in danger?" Caethil nodded, saying the guards would be looking for him. "Right. Right, well...come, sit down. You'll be safe here for a while. The Equestrian catapults cannot reach this far, and I doubt the soldiers will be searching my home any time soon."

Reluctantly Caethil followed him to the dining and entertaining room, a traditional Whitetail place of meeting for friends and family. Gold and emerald throw pillows lined the walls and formed small mounds on the floor, and a shallow bowl of aromatic herbs sizzled in spring water above a torch, giving off a hearty, earthy smell.

Moonlight and the glow of distant fires streamed through the tall, open windows in equal measure. Somewhere out there, he imagined, the doe he used to love would be calling for his head. How many soldiers would be looking for him now? Dozens? Hundreds? Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Trelis would believe she was knocked unconscious by another Equestrian catapult stone, as he'd told the young assistant. He supposed he had no way to know for sure. A deep breath helped with his nerves, if only in a small way.

A crystalline tankard floated to a small table at his side once he sat down, filled with a deep purple liquid. He eagerly took a mouthful of the sweet, slightly tart linae berry wine, the first he'd had in weeks. Such luxuries were hard to come by these days, and barley ale was a bitter stopgap at best.

"No use saving it now, I suppose." Praxilus sat across from him, a narrow-necked bottle clinking onto the floor. "Took me months to build up a supply of the stuff, straight from the winery in Gale Valley. I trust it's to your liking?"

Caethil downed the rest of his cup, held it out for a refill. "More than you can know, Senator."

"Glad to hear it." Praxilus swirled his drink, sniffed at it in approval, and let the flavors wash over his tongue and trickle down his throat. "Now, what seems to be the problem, my good Brother-Commander? Please, take all the time you need."

A hollow laugh. "Old acquaintances, Senator. That's the problem. Old acquaintances and muddied thoughts make for a vile combination. I've put us in undue risk."

"What do you mean?"

A chopped log floated to the nearby fireplace, bringing comforting warmth against the night. It flared briefly before settling into place.

"I paid a visit to the 9th Arcane's primary research building with the intention of putting a stop this potion, or concoction, or whatever you want to call it. It was a magical enhancement liquid, and I thought it would cause great harm to both Whitetail and the Equestrians if it were to continue being produced. Long story short, it's been supplied to both the Nightmare Moon cults and select redtail for at least a month now, probably on a testing basis. From what I've seen of its after-effects, it's extremely potent. I thought I might put a stop to it before we turn traitor and flee from our homes."

"We're not traitors, Caethil," Praxilus said, sounding unsure even to himself. "Once this war is over and Whitetail is returned to its former glory, we'll be welcomed back as heroes. We can help rebuild."

"If we aren't beheaded first," Caethil answered bitterly. "Once I arrived I found the building to be mostly empty, except for two does. One of them was a senior researcher named Trelis. We have -- or had -- somewhat of a troubled history."

"Old love interest, I take it?"

Caethil downed the rest of his wine and frowned. "You could say that. We split apart under less than ideal circumstances. You can imagine my surprise when I saw here there at such a late hour. I'd intended to burn the place down and be done with it in short order, but I just...I fucked everything up, Senator. I tried to convince her that the Chancellor and the Empress didn't give a single damn about Whitetail, but you know how the 9th are: committed to a fault. She wouldn't hear a word of it. Nothing mattered; not the Cervidaens working to take over Whitetail, not Corvalix supplying potions to the cultists, not even my assertion that it wasn't the Equestrians who started this war. She said she was going to call the guards and have me arrested." He considered his empty glass for a time, lost within his own thoughts. "She'd changed so much since I'd last seen her. It was all about Whitetail this, and the 9th that, and victory at all costs. She had an assistant, a gifted, young doe who was wise enough to not get involved in our shouting and arguing.

"Even as Trelis was making her way to the surface I kept trying to reason with her. We had just reached the store room with the Equestrian fusillade began raining stones over the city. One of them impacted very near to me," he lifted up his cotton body wrap to show the dried blood and shallow cuts in his side. "I felt pitiful, lying there in a pile of rubble as Trelis dismissed me entirely. I thought she was going to kill me, but instead she said she was going to have the guards haul me off. I...I had to stop her, but I didn't want to kill her. I couldn't. Would you be able to live with yourself if you drove a blade into the heart of one you used to care for more than anything else in this world?"

Praxilus shook his head. "No, I don't think I could. Even if it meant my own death."

"So it is for both of us, then. But I still had to stop her, so I used every bit of focus I could conjure and sent a chunk of rock into her head from the side. She dropped right then and there. She was still breathing when I checked on her, but a head injury is never something you just shrug off. Despite everything, I hope she's well..."

"I'm sure she is," Praxilus said. He considered filling Caethil's glass again, then floated the bottle itself to the soldier's hooves. Caethil eagerly drank from it, downing a good portion in breathless gulps before setting it down. "What did you do about the assistant? And the potion?"

"I made up a story about how Trelis had been struck unconscious by the bombardment, and told the girl to find help once it was safe. With her out of the way, it was a simple matter of making sure that damned place burned to the ground. I gathered up every bit of research, every last scroll and book, and dumped that vile brew onto the floor. I watched it succumb to the flames until the heat threatened to roast me. I escaped through a hole in the wall once I was back upstairs." A final pull of wine, a sorrowful breath. "Ancestors forgive me. I pray they lived."

Praxilus bowed his head, offering silent support for the does. "I can see why you were panicked, my friend. You are free to stay here for the night if you need, until this blows over."

"That's just it," Caethil insisted, "it isn't going to blow over. Once they search my home and find me missing, they will eventually try to find me at my post. I cannot abandon my bucks, not when we're so close to escaping this wretched city. That's why we have to gather everyone and leave as quickly as possible. I thank you for your hospitality, but we've wasted enough time here as is." He pushed himself up and brushed the dust from his cloak. "I'll ask you again: do you have your bags ready? Can you leave now?"

"If necessary," Praxilus answered. "Should I gather the others? No doubt Alyys and Gwindihr will be asleep. It may be difficult to rouse them."

"Then bash their doors down if need be. We don't have any time to waste. I want to be under way by daybreak."

"Very well. Where shall we meet?" A short dagger in a sheathe levitated across the room. It was strapped to Praxilus' upper right foreleg and hidden under hastily thrown together winter robes.

"There is a guard tower near the old kiln, just east of my unit's barracks. Find us there, but please, do not take too long. I don't know how long we'll be able to maintain our facade."

"We'll be there," Praxilus said.

"I do hope so." Caethil saluted with a foreleg over his chest. Praxilus returned the gesture, then stuck a crystalline bottle into the side of one of Caethil's bags. "Here, take this. You can share it with your bucks once we're free of this place. Best of luck to you, Brother-Commander."

"And you as well, Senator."

The soldiers were already gathered as Caethil crossed into the clearing that marked the Shapers district, a collection of old and mostly abandoned buildings that had once served as the backbone of Evinwiir's growth. It had been left behind as progress pushed the city outward, and now served as a place of training for several of the local guard units. At times one could find the most destitute of citizens sheltering under the crumbling ceilings and clinging to the stone walls for protection from the elements.

Caethil and his compatriots had come through this place, many years ago, as their first order of business under the flag of the 12th Capital Guard. Criminals of all sorts had turned the ruined buildings into places of greed, murder and corruption. To the last they had been put to the blade.

How ironic, he thought, that he was now considered a criminal himself. There was a very real possibility that he and his bucks would be killed here, their ruse discovered by wandering eyes or secretive deals by those who were only pretending to be loyal to him.

He pushed the thought away. He had to trust his soldiers, for they certainly trusted him to see them through the coming days.

"Who goes there?" someone shouted from the roof of a nearby building. Caethil smiled.

"Do you not recognize your own commanding officer?" he yelled in return. The soldier gave a shrill whistle, and half a dozen bucks eased their holds on their bows. Caethil had to wait only a moment for his second in command to approach him. "Brother-Captain Vardinfel. Alert as always, I see."

"As ever, sir." Warm torch light illuminated the buck's youthful face and determined eyes. Vardinfel may have barely been out of his twenties, but he was as fine of a soldier as Caethil had ever seen. Months of conflict with the Equestrians and the fanatics alike had done little to tarnish his pride and professionalism. "Forgive me, sir, I was not expecting to see you so soon. Has there been trouble? When the bombardment began we weren't sure what was happening."

"More trouble than I can explain, I'm afraid," Caethil answered. They walked together past dilapidated structures that had been occupied by his unit, armored figures appearing on every roof top, at every door, casting muted green reflections that flickered against dull browns and grays. Salutes and uttered cries of "Arindiil Whitetail" met him at every step. "I trust you were beyond siege range?"

"Yes, sir, no casualties to report." Vardinfel said.

"That is good to hear. It is true that I was not planning on returning here for some time yet, but circumstances have forced my hoof. There's been an incident with the 9th Arcane, one of my own doing. I did it for Whitetail's future, of course, but I doubt many would see it that way."

"The 9th? With all due respect, the proprietors of powerful magic have been an asset to our war effort, sir."

"They were an asset," Caethil said. "I'm afraid I don't have time to fully explain, Brother-Captain, but trust me when I say that what they used to be, and what they are now, are two completely different beasts. I thought it prudent to cut the head off before it could destroy us from within."

Vardinfel frowned. "As you say, sir. I trust your judgment in these things."

"And I thank you for your loyalty. How are the bucks?"

"As well as can be expected. The hours have been long and the stress unfathomable for some, but we are here for you. Everyone has packed for the journey, and our provisions can last a week if necessary. Our ranged capabilities are mild at best, however, with seven bows, fifteen throwing spears and a hoof-full of darts for the forty-six of us. We had to give priority to personal blades."

"I'm sorry, did you say forty-six?" Caethil asked. He knew the news would be bad when Vardinfel's ears flattened.

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so. Five of our number had, well...second thoughts, I suppose you could say. I think the catapult assault made them reconsider defection. They tried to get everyone else to join them, unsuccessfully of course. When words didn't work, they threatened us with violence." A shadow crossed his face. "They had to be dealt with, sir. We couldn't have them reporting our plans to the other units."

A weight sunk deep into Caethil's chest. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

"They were buried behind the old store house, and their graves marked with full military honors. It's been difficult for many of our bucks to cope with. Perhaps you could talk to them -- reaffirm our cause. I can scarcely imagine a more demoralizing act than being forced to kill one's own comrades."

Caethil lowered his voice, his words heavy with doubt.

"We may all be in that position soon, Brother-Captain."

Dawn was nearly upon them, the sun peeking over the distant mountains and casting rosy fingers across the scattered clouds, bringing with it a chill wind that howled through the thick forests surrounding Evinwiir and billowed the long, triangular flags of Whitetail's capital. The city was just beginning to come to life as shop keepers opened their stalls and thousands of citizens headed to their places of work. Some awoke to find their belongings destroyed or stolen in the night, while yet others huddled around fire pits and wept over the loss of their homes or loved ones.

Another day of war, another chunk of Whitetail's soul ripped away. It had almost become routine to Senator Praxilus and his compatriots. Hardly anyone paid them heed as they passed through the smoking ruins of the financial district and north to the old Shapers district, and that suited him just fine. Seeing the devastation of the night's prolonged siege only reinforced in him the need to put an end to this senseless death and destruction, though he lamented that it would be some time before that happened.

He sipped at his flask of mulled wine, wishing he could break into a full sprint without drawing attention to himself. Caethil was likely to be furious at being kept waiting -- if he was still around. Or alive.

Finally the trio found the grove of evergreens that marked the edge of the old district. Praxilus signaled for Alyys and Gwindihr to stay hidden for the moment, carefully stepping out into the open. It took only a few seconds for him to be spotted. A sentry called for him to stop, and his heart beat in his chest as he prayed to his ancestors that the eyes now upon him were friendly.

"Senator Praxilus, is it?" The guard yelled from cover. Praxilus answered quickly. "You may tell your fellows to come out, they are clearly within view. The Brother-Commander has been awaiting your arrival."

So much for staying hidden, he thought amusedly. He waved a hoof and brought out the others to take their places beside him. The young sentry approached a moment later, bowing deeply. A ribbon of shimmering white fabric had been wrapped around the tallest prong of his antlers.

"Apologies, senators, but we can't be too careful. Were you followed? Does anyone know you're meeting here?"

"Not that we are aware of," Alyys answered, pulling his winter clothing tighter against himself. His breath came out in wispy puffs as he complained. "I'm too damn old to be out this early..."

"Where is the Brother-Commander?" Praxilus asked.

"He and the senior staff took shelter in one of the buildings. Most of them decided to get what sleep they could until you arrived. We feared you wouldn't show at all."

"We would have been here sooner, lad, but abandoning one's life in the public eye is...complicated, to say the least."

The young soldier nodded sympathetically. "I understand, Senator. At least you're here now. Please, follow me."

Weary eyes stared from roof tops as they wound their way through the narrow alleys and open fields of dead grass. Many of the bucks had fallen asleep near their small fires, curled into themselves for comfort and warmth against the biting cold.

"Damn shame," Gwindihr said to the others.

"What do you mean?" Alyys asked, a small bag floating before him as he double and triple checked his supplies.

"These young bucks. Being asked to leave everyone and everything behind. I'm amazed so many sided with Caethil in the first place."

"Caethil has a way with words," Praxilus said. "I've never served in the army, but if I had, I would have wanted someone like him to be my commanding officer. Clearly he inspires loyalty and respect, else they wouldn't be here."

"True enough, I suppose." Alyys turned to the soldier with the fluttering ribbon. "You, boy. What is your name?"

"Falavius, sir," he answered proudly. "Falavius of Narrowhelm, son of Faalnin."

Alyys perked his ears. "Falavius? That sounds an awful lot like an old Equestrian name, before they started naming each other after clouds and trees and other such ridiculous things."

The young buck smiled, a genuine expression that momentarily replaced the tired look in his eyes."Yes, sir, it is. Not many have picked up on that. I tend to keep its origin hidden these days, as you can well imagine." His smile faded, though the pride remained in his voice. "My adoptive mother took care of me while I was a fawn, after my real mother died in childbirth. She was a pony, from the northern reaches of Equestria. My father always said she was the kindest soul he'd ever met. I ended up with an Equestrian name upon the first anniversary of my birth in her honor."

Alyys patted him on the shoulder. "She sounds like a fine doe, Falavius."

"Mare, actually" Falavius corrected him. "And she was! Until, well..." His head dropped. "The roundup of Equestrians living in Whitetail took her away from my father. He resisted, drew his blade to keep them from taking her. He was a tough old soldier in his own right, but not even he could stop half a dozen bucks." Tears gathered in his eyes and stung in the wind. He blinked them away. "I miss them greatly, Senator. I've tried to find out what happened to my adoptive mother, but no one seems to know. I only found out about my father from a neighbor who saw it all happen, and at that point I was already committed to the army for several years to come."

Alyys felt as if he'd been struck with a hammer. "I'm so sorry, son. This damned war has broken apart so many families just like yours. I hope your adoptive mother is well. What was her name?"

"Merelith."

"Merelith, then. I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to find her. I may not be a senator for long, but I know a lot of deer in high places. If she yet lives -- or, ancestors forbid, if she doesn't -- then I swear that you will know as soon as I do."

A hint of the optimistic gleam returned. "Thank you, Senator. It is all I could ask for. As you can imagine, I hold no real allegiance to Whitetail these days; not after what it's become. That is why I did not hesitate to join Brother-Commander Caethil. You'll find that many of my brothers have similar stories of loss. It can't be any worse in Equestria."

Another guard halted them once they came to a circle of buildings surrounding a bonfire. Falavius explained that they were there to see the Brother-Commander, and was told to wait in turn.

"I'll leave you to your business," he said with a parting salute. "Best of luck to you, senators, and may the ancestors watch over you this day."

"And you as well, Falavius." Praxilus returned the salute and waited to be greeted by Caethil. He did not have to wait long.

Caethil came galloping up in a confident stride, yelling to his soldiers to get ready as he did so. The relatively quiet encampment became a flurry of activity at his order, with bucks packing away supplies and extinguishing fires. Messengers loped from one over-watch to the next, passing along their commanding officer's word. Somewhere among the controlled chaos an authoritative voice called for a formation; Praxilus guessed it to be one of Caethil's under-officers.

"Praxilus! At last you arrive. I feared you'd been caught, or worse. What in the world happened? You were supposed to be here hours ago."

"I apologize for our late showing, Brother-Commander, but we encountered some problems when we tried to retrieve Senator Gwindihr."

"Afraid so," Gwindihr said. "Some of Senator Karix's personal guards were suspicious of us being out together that late. We had to pay them off to not alert the old stag, lest he blow our cover. Not to mention neither I nor Alyys were prepared to leave on such short notice. Gathering our belongings took some time."

"But at least we're here now," Praxilus said. "How have you been, my friend? Any trouble with the other units?"

"No, though I did encounter some trouble with the 9th Arcane. I'll fill you in later, but for now we seem to be safe." Caethil gave a quick look around, nodding in approval as his soldiers began to form their rows. "Do you have everything you need? There will not be another chance from here on out."

"I believe so. We're ready to go as soon as you are."

Caethil clapped him on the side."Excellent. It won't be long now. Give me time to check with the bucks and we'll be on our way." The excitement in his voice was unmistakable, though Praxilus could tell it was hiding deeper doubts and concerns. He was not about to bring them up. "Our time is at hoof, Senators!"

Caethil let out a shuddering breath, being careful not to let his authoritative, confident facade fade. Many eyes were on him already, and forty-six bucks in glinting armor stood at the ready in rows of ten, with four squad leaders and two sub-commanders ahead of the others. The central officer held a tall banner pole that had been stripped of its Capital Guard flag, replaced instead with the white, green and gold of Whitetail. It flapped in the steady wind while the bucks checked themselves and each other for the tiniest of imperfections -- unclasped straps, loose supply packs, improperly sheathed weapons or knee-blades. Nothing could be overlooked when their survival depended on a thorough attention to detail.

The senior sub-commander snapped to attention as Caethil approached.

"Company! Ready...front!"

As one the soldiers stood straight and tall, their eyes forward. Caethil allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to part his lips; military precision at the most trying of times was the mark of proper training and discipline. He'd taught them well.

He stood before his soldiers, his head held high. Front and center on his crescent-shaped helm he had carved the ancient runes for 'truth' and 'vigilance', and a dual-layered cape the color of the forest was attached to his shoulder pauldrons and hung off to one side, decorated with silver braids. It had been a gift from the former chancellor, a congratulatory gesture upon obtaining his position as one of Evinwiir's officers. He wore it now in memory of better times -- and far better leaders.

"At ease, my brothers," he said. They looked at him expectantly, and though he had prepared for this moment he found himself unsure of his words, if only for a time. He could see the lingering doubt scattered through their ranks, the uncertainty of what they were about to do. They needed him to be strong.

"Time is of the essence, as you well know, but before we depart I thought I would speak with you in brief. I do so not as your commanding officer, but as a soldier, a stag of principle and, above all else, a whitetail. Like so many of you, I have spent my entire life within this great nation's borders, from the cold expanses of the Midlands to the glinting shores of the Endless Sea. I have seen it expand and prosper, and it has granted me the blessing of a good life.

"Yet the Whitetail I love has been poisoned by corruption, twisted and shaped by the disease of politics and age-old grievances. I look out across her now, battered and bloodied by the continued violence of unnecessary and wasteful warfare, and I am heart broken. Evinwiir does not deserve this fate of slow starvation and anarchy. Her citizens are good, and strong, and though the walls have held, the city within has all but fallen. You may look at the burnt-out shells of homes and the shattered remains of once proud cathedrals and wish to blame the Equestrians -- before recently, I certainly did -- but one needs only open their eyes and see who is truly to blame. It is not the ponies we should despise. That is exactly what those in charge want you to do."

He turned and pointed to the tall spires of the capitol building in the distance, which glinted in the dawning sunlight as if in defiance of the filth and rubble that had been brought upon the city.

"There, my friends. There is the place where Whitetail has been systematically gutted, its corpse paraded around in mockery of all we used to stand for. Chancellor Vinawyll, in his cowardice and greed, has led us to ruin. He has surrounded himself with like-minded stags, politicians who corroborate with his every whim and fold to his wishes. The senate is a shell of its former self, no longer the voice of the people. Yet even here we find whitetail who are good and righteous in their convictions."

Caethil bowed to the three senators in genuine respect.

"Senators Alyys, Gwindihr and Praxilus have decided to join us this day. They, too, believe in the Whitetail of old, and they have earned my respect. I am honored to call them my brothers; not by blood, but by conviction. I ask that you give them the same dignity and honor that you have shown myself and each other. Once this ordeal has passed, and Whitetail is free once more, we will need good deer like them to rebuild what remains of this nation."

"Ka'al sayiin, vyyn nominet qyi falshaduur," Senator Praxilus said with a hoof against his chest. In our deeds, we speak for those who cannot.

The soldiers returned his words, a phrase as old as deerkind.

"Indeed we do," Caethil said. "Let me make something very clear: from the moment we depart, we will be traitors. In the eyes of the senate, the chancellor, the empress, and all who support them, we will be treasonous scum. We all know what happens to traitors who are caught; no doubt you've seen it with your own eyes if you've lived here long enough.

"Some of you may be having second thoughts about deserting. I understand. The thought of leaving behind the comfort and familiarity of your life thus far is not an easy one to cope with. That is why, at this moment, I am offering complete amnesty to anyone who wishes to leave. I give you my word that you will not be harmed if you do so peacefully. In return, I ask only that you allow the rest of us to carry on."

The bucks looked to each other, watching and waiting for someone to be the first.

Not a single one left the formation.

"Very well," he said simply, a swell of pride in his chest. "I cannot guarantee that you will see your homes again, nor can I guarantee that you will live through this ordeal. We are but a small collection of stags and bucks standing in defiance of that we view as wrong. The journey will be long, and tiresome, but I swear to you that I will not back down from this cause."

He drew his quinn-blade and levitated it above his antlers, raising his voice to a shout.

"Ancestors willing, we will stand in this very place again one day, under the banner of a reborn Whitetail! I will lead you, and I will fight with you, and if we must die, then I will die with you!"

Raising on his hind legs, he shouted the battle cry of Whitetail.

"Aro'wiin!"

His forelgs stamped back down as his soldiers responded as one, stomping with each chant.

"Hwah!"

"Aro'wiin!"

"Hwah!"

"Aro'wiin!"

"Hwah!"

A determined silence hung in the air, broken only by the flapping of their banner. Brother-Commander Caethil looked over his soldiers one last time. He'd never felt prouder.

"It is time we go. Keep your weapons sheathed and your eyes forward. As far as anyone is concerned, we are just another unit carrying out our orders." He turned to the senators, pleased to see that they were set on seeing it through to the end. Senator Alyys stood ramrod straight and saluted, a testament to his years of service. "Senators, you will remain at my side until we are clear of Evinwiir. Remember: if anyone asks, we are acting as your personal escort to Eldwix. With any luck, it will be good enough of an excuse for heading southwest."

"We understand," Praxilus said. "We entrust you with your lives, Brother-Commander."

"Then let's be on our way." Caethil gave a shrill whistle and circled his hoof in the air. "Soldiers of Whitetail, fall in and move out!"