“Column, advance!” Shouted Sir Turaz, pointing his halberd in the general direction of the Verâdîm castle. His orders were echoed, back along the line. This is madness! a voice within him protested. We don't even have ladders!

“An unnecessary burden for you.” Aharôs had told him, last night as they went over last minute preparations. All the other columns were carrying ladders with them... Not his. And now, here Turaz was, walking straight at the tall ramparts which had withstood no less than six attacks by Prince Reshîv and his henchmen. Cannonfire roared over them all, screaming its way to whatever was unfortunate enough to be its target. Occasionally, the Verâdîm would get a few shots back at them, though they were more focused on the opposing artillery than what seemed like a foolish attempt to storm the walls.

“God save us all.” Commented one soldier in the column, as they marched straight at the looming fortress. The drumbeats picked up their pace, and the snaking line lurched forward, light glistening on a thousand helmets and blades in the morning sun. Turaz wasn't entirely concerned with God right now. The Lord of Heaven save what it may, but this is man's dominion. Nevertheless, he had partaken in the dawn prayer; for his sake, his soldier's sake, and even the sake of the Verâdîm.

A small pillar of dirt and debris shot into the air not ten yards away. They were firing back, but slowly. The rockets Îrilôs and Aharôs had concocted must have taken a heavy toll on the trained artillerymen in the castle. I suppose that was the idea, the knight thought. The Prince doesn't want me dead before I come within a furlong of the walls. It was easy to die when one was leading a column from the front, as Turaz did. He looked up, and saw the Blackwind pegasi circling high above the tasseled pikes. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes for the column to close within crossbow range of the castle, not more than two hundred yards; but to the knight, it felt as if he had been leading them towards the grey bulwark for hours. “Halt!” Ordered Turaz, raising a hand.

“Halt!” Screamed the sergeant behind him, loud enough to bring the column to a lurching stop. From the walls, a volley of bolts came flying towards them. Most flew short of their mark, but a few men in the front of the column fell, and Turaz felt something graze his helmet. I really ought to close my visor!

“Down!” Cried out Turaz, and the sergeant bellowed the command. Like a row of books stacked against one another, the column fell into a kneeling position, hoping the meager rises in the ground would offer some protection from further arquebus attack.

“Sir, what are we waiting for?” Asked the someone, half-falling forward on crouched legs. Turaz recognized him as the sergeant, by the small chain hanging off his right shoulder. “We'll be cut to pieces out here!” The knight caught his breath before responding, not rising from the ground.

“We need to wait for the flare.” He said.

“What flare?” The sergeant questioned, sounding angrily confused behind the half-visor of his helmet. “They didn't tell us about a flare!”

“The Prince told me!” Shot back Turaz. “The Blackwinds will use a flare to signal where the defense is weakest.”

“And that will alert the Verâdîm to where we're going to attack!”

“That seems to be the plan.” Sighed the knight. “We're supposed to stay right here, two hundred yards from the wall. No closer. The second flare will signal our advance.”

“God damn-” Swore the sergeant. “Alright, we wait here, and pray we don't die uselessly.” Five volleys of crossbow and cannon shot followed from the walls, each one shaving town Turaz's column a little more. The field was becoming so thick with white smoke that it was almost impossible to see the castle before them, let alone anyone else further away. A whistling scream pierced the air, then, a sound the knight knew from plenty of fireworks. It was followed by a white light, burning brighter than most fires.

“The flare!” He exclaimed.

“Do we attack now?” Asked the sergeant.

“No, wait. Give the others some time to move. Five minutes. Look for the second flare.” The sergeant nodded, and remained on the ground. Drumbeats sounded in the distance, as their fellow columns moved off through patches of white smoke. Turaz's column stayed put, flanked by the columns of Captain Eshanis of Sturaj and Baron Kairôs, from one of the Thecha fiefdoms. Another light screeched into the blue sky, launched from one of the Blackwinds, perhaps even Tempest herself. How do they light a fuse with no hands? Turaz wondered briefly, before standing.

“Column, rise! Prepare to advance.”

“Rise!” The sergeant yelled after him, like a hurricane among squalls. “Form up!” Prince, whatever you have planned, it better work, vowed Turaz. I didn't come all this way to die standing here doing nothing.

It was at that moment that the smoke began to clear, pushed by an unworldly wind. The column of men muttered amongst themselves; the field grew uneasily silent. Was it because the fighting had moved elsewhere, or was it something else?

“I don't like this.” Turaz said to the sergeant. He shivered, and then realized that it had gotten cold. Very cold. Cold...

“What's happening, Sir?” Asked the sergeant. Turaz only shook his head, and wished for his cloak, as his breath began to mist in front of him. “This isn't natural!”

“No.” Agreed the knight. Aharôs, you are a bold one. Turaz grimaced, thinking of a thousand ways this could go wrong.

“Madness!” Exclaimed a man in the column, as the once-fresh grass now frosted and crunched beneath everyone's feet.

“On second thought, everyone down again.” Sir Turaz spoke, kneeling on the now-cold ground once more.

“Down!” The clank of armor sounded, as the entire column knelt once more in a wave of motion. All the black powder smoke from the cannons had been dispersed, swept away; Turaz saw that the wall before him seemed to be... I don't know any words for that. It was as if the wall was being... twisted? No, it was far more subtle. Shifting? He really didn't have any word for what was happening. But, Turaz knew where this was headed. One way or another, that wall wouldn't be there for long. All the heat seemed to as if it were being pulled from the surrounding area, leaving cold to fill its place.

“What causes heat, sergeant?” Asked Turaz.

“Uh... There's a lot of things... Fire?” Guessed he, seeming rather unsure why the knight was choosing now to ask him such a pointless question.

“If you had a hot enough fire, what could you do to stone?”

“Well, I guess you could melt-” From behind his visor, the sergeant's eyes widened. “No. That's impossible, magic died here a thousand years ago, with the alicorns!” He exclaimed in disbelief.

“Apparently not.” Retorted Turaz, lowing himself onto his elbows. The sergeant did the same. “I've seen the aftermath of something like this before... Whoever is behind this-” The knight couldn't finish his sentence, as a great crack was heard from the wall. What it was, Turaz couldn't say. And then a tremendous blast of heat slammed into him, like a blacksmith's furnace on a winter's night. It was too bright to look at directly, but Turaz could tell the wall itself was collapsing into molten liquid, pouring towards the ground at an ever faster rate.

“Holy shit!” Yelled the sergeant in awe and terror. “Holy shit!”

“Lord of Heaven!” Exclaimed a soldier, perhaps the same one that had proclaimed this madness not a few minutes ago.

“What the fuck?!” Yelled someone else at the same time. The white-yellow glow burned brilliantly, and the cold was displaced by a searing heat that forced Turaz to turn his head away. Even from two hundred yards, the temperature was becoming uncomfortable, nearly unbearable. Any closer and we'd be cooked! Turaz muttered a small prayer for the Verâdîm who had been nearby. This is a horrible fate, for anyone.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it began to stop. The white-yellow faded into orange, and then red, as the floes of liquid rock cooled. Quickly, the freezing cold rushed back in, cracking and popping the smooth remains of the former wall. Rushes of steam flew up from the black, charred mass. Frost once again radiated out from the site of destruction, turning the scorched earth a pale white.

“Column, advance.” Turaz stated, standing.

“Into that?” The sergeant questioned, looking wildly back between the knight and the unworldly power they had just witnessed.

“That's an order, sergeant.”

The man took a deep breath. “Column, advance!”

Once again, the drums sounded, and the snaking line lurched forward. When they got within one hundred yards, completely unopposed, Turaz gave his next order. “Battle line!” On command, the arquebusiers and other men-at-arms slowed, letting the pikemen move to the front. Turaz and the sergeant moved behind the front lines, into the center of the forming mass.

“Enemy ahead!” Announced someone. Sure enough, in the massive, melted gap, the Verâdîm were showing themselves. How anyone that close survived... It was best not to think on such things right now. But they were disorganized, the Verâdîm crossbowmen fired in small bursts, not in large volleys. What damage they did was easily taken.

“Arquebusiers, form up!” Shouted Turaz. The forward rows of pikemen knelt down and lowered their pikes, giving them gunmen a clear shot. Behind them, matches were lit, and weapons aimed. “Fire!”

A clattering chain of blasts sounded, with a wave of white smoke washing over everyone. They moved forward once again, leaving the arquebusiers to reload. Turaz snapped his helmet's visor closed with a gauntleted hand, and firmed up his grasp on the halberd. Fifty yards... “Double time!” The knight commanded. In the column, the drums picked up pace, as did the men following them. They sounded like the pounding of a giant clock, waiting for the carnage to truly begin. Verâdîm crossbowmen continued to fire, but they were quickly being replaced by a motley contingent of soldiers, flying the green and silver swallow. Thirty yards... Someone choked and fell as a bolt slammed into his neck; Turaz resisted the urge to check his own gorget. Twenty yards... “Column, charge!”

“Column, charge! Vî-Athair bâlen!” Shouted the sergeant, speaking the ancient battlecry of the kingdom.

“VÎ-ATHAIR BÂLEN!” The column affirmed in a mighty, unified roar. The pikemen lowered their weapons and sprinted for the gap, as fast as armored men could run. Like a silver wave, the rest followed, tassels and banners waving unsteadily. Below the knight's boots, the formerly molten rock was hard and smooth, almost difficult to stand upon firmly. More than one soldier lost his footing, but they were all replaced by the oncoming tide of the Athairîm.

It was only a few seconds before Turaz found himself in the grimly familiar chaos of close battle. The pikemen's pikes broke or got stuck in another man's armor, they pulled out their swords, while the halberdiers and others piled through the disruption the pikemen had caused in the enemy line... Or that was what Turaz expected to happen, had the Verâdîm a line to form. They must have been still reeling from the display of unworldly forces that melted their wall, and going by the charred courtyard with its piles of charred masses, melted many of them as well.

Then, the knight too had entered the fray, stabbing outwards with his halberd, trusting in the soldiers to either side to fend off flanking attacks. Not that the Verâdîm are in any condition for such strategy... The long spike on the tip of his weapon got lodged in an enemy's breastplate, Turaz struggled for some precious few seconds trying to pry it out. A swordsman delivered a swift kick, and the halberd came loose. More Athairîm troops still poured through the gap, in a flood of white, blue, silver, and grey. Only two kills to my name, noted Turaz, as he let the younger soldiers rush past him. No one would risk trampling over one of the Prince's own knights. In minutes, what was left of the Verâd fighters were dispersed and killed; the courtyard was now for Loiar.

“Sergeant!” Barked the knight sharply, though out of breath from the run and the fighting.

“Sir!” The soldier ran up, bloodied sword in hand.

“Secure these walls, signal our cannons to cease fire.”

“Right away, Sir!” The nameless sergeant nodded, and ran off again. How much energy does he have? sighed Turaz, leaning on his halberd. Scattered sounds of clashing came from all around, mostly holdouts on the ramparts, but within only a few more minutes, the courtyard and battlements now solidly bore the white and blue flower. The Athairîm milled about, some doing purposeful tasks, others taking cover from the keep, some just standing around.

“The real question is, where is everyone?” Asked a man-at-arms, as he cleaned his blade on a cloth.

“Verâdîm like to hide, my father said.” Spoke another soldier, who was collected the fallen banners of the enemy. “They're probably watching us from the keep, even now. Don't know how many are left after...” He shuddered, and almost dropped his pile of banners. “That.”

“I'd be hiding too.” Agreed the man-at-arms. “Sir Turaz, do you know what it was?”

“Huh?” Asked Turaz, caught off-guard that someone knew his name.

“Yeah, you're a knight. They must have told you about things like this in school.” The banner-collector said.

“I was knighted on the battlefield, soldier. Before that, I carried boxes in Surana.” Turaz replied. “I wasn't taught anything.”

“But they say you were in the Highcrest expedition!” Protested the banner-collector. “Surely, you saw magic there.”

“Not this kind.” The knight stated, shaking his head. “I've seen a unicorn lift a cup, that was about it. Unicorns have this glow when they do that kind of thing. This... Nothing but cold and...”

“The flicker?” The man-at-arms suggested.

“That's a word for it, I guess. Nothing but cold and flicker to warn us that was coming.” Said Sir Turaz. “Whatever that was. Not the kind of magic I saw in Equestria. But enough talk, get back to your duties. The enemy is still in the keep, and we need to get in. Be mindful of marksmen.”

“Understood, Sir.” Nodded the banner-collector. He and his companion moved off around the keep. Turaz retreated to the gaping hole in the wall, watching the keep for any signs of movement. The old arrow slits were all walled up, and the cannons on the uppermost battlements were silent. Maybe we did kill them all. In the sky, the Blackwind soldiers were still circling, barely more than specks. One of them was Tempest... He couldn't tell which, even if his eyes had been what they were twenty years ago.

“Sir, the Prince has arrived.” Announced Turaz's sergeant, walking up briskly. His visor was now opened, and as the knight had suspected, he was indeed a young one.

“Has he?” Turaz asked, looking out at the fields. Sure enough, the Prince's banner flew at the head of a small column of heavily-armored zôshamen. Behind them, with a team of six zôshai pulling it, was a lone cannon.

“Looks like he intends to force entry into the keep.” I still don't have a name for this kid, Turaz realized suddenly.

“What's your name, sergeant?” Questioned the knight.

“I'm Haior. Sergeant Haior, of the village Krîsab.” Said Haior, bowing.

“Krîsab, across the sound from Tashan?”

“The very same, Sir.” Haior nodded.

“I spent a night there once. Long story.” Remarked the knight. How long ago had that been? What year had it been? It must've been the late 1480s, before the Equestrian expedition. God save me, I'm getting old! lamented Turaz. Soon, though, Prince Aharôs and his company had dismounted and scaled the gap.

“Impressive work.” Aharôs commented, exhaling heavily. He was in armor, the same Turaz had first met him in, but this time lacking a helmet, and having gained a cloak.

“It wasn't us, Prince.” Protested the knight. “We don't know what did it- In fact, we thought you knew.”

“Oh, I know.” Said Aharôs, looking back down the slope of formerly molten stone. The air was still cold, and the ground frosted. “Bring up the cannon! I want this keep to be ours within the next bell!”

“My Prince, the keep has been silent since we took the courtyard.” Announced Sergeant Haior, bowing again. “We're not sure if there's even any soldiers left in it.”

“Nevertheless-” Aharôs looked at the lone chain of Haior's right pauldron. “-sergeant, we need in. And then I deal with whomever is inside. Seshîlîon swore to my house, and then broke that vow as soon as it was convenient. There's justice to be served.”

“So there is.” Agreed the knight, though he wasn't very keen at all on the Prince's ideas of justice.

“Aharôs!” A familiar voice called. Out of the sky, Tempest Blackwind had appeared, landing a little too heavily. This didn't seem to stop her one bit, though. “There's a way in on the top!” The pegasus exclaimed.

“Really?” Questioned the Prince, dryly. “Perhaps that is how they got their cannons up there.”

“No-” Tempest groaned, before shaking her head. “No, there's a door on top of the keep, it's slightly ajar.”

“Go make it more ajar. I'll see what we can do about ropes and ladders, perhaps we can attack from the top down.” Mused Aharôs, staring up at the keep. It was easily forty feet tall, they'd need to stick some ladders together to reach the top. It sounds bad even in theory. “Tempest, have your pegasi secure the roof, and break that door if they can. Then report back here, I don't want you getting killed pointlessly in your first battle.”

“Yeah.” Nodded Tempest in agreement. Some queen, Turaz scoffed, before reminding himself that the pegasus was several months shy of sixteen. Still a child, by human law. The same could not be said for Lady Snowy, the timid, stuttering coward that she was. Tempest flew off to the top of the keep, staying close to the walls but away from any openings. Quite quickly, she and Waterborn had returned; the latter going off to find ropes to help raise the ladders with. Aharôs had sent word out as well, men from Baron Kairôs's column were passing said ladders up through the gap in the wall.

“It's taken less than an hour to capture a castle that Reshîv failed to take six times.” The Prince said, smiling. It was a rare sight.

“Reshîv doesn't have magic on his side.” Turaz commented, watching the Thechai soldiers push up Aharôs's cannon; a task significantly harder than carrying ladders. “Do you care to explain that, my Prince?”

“At a more appropriate time.” Dismissed Aharôs with a wave of his hand. “We have Verâdîm to deal with.”

“They don't seem so tough. You've killed most of them in minutes.” Said Tempest, looking uneasily at the keep. “Duke Îrilôs sure knows how to make a battle short.”

“Those rockets took months to make, and years of study and experiment, I was told. But they've proven most effective, at least in rather windless conditions.” Replied the Prince. “I fear we've witnessed the birth of a new tool of war.” He turned around, and checked the progress of his cannon. Fortunately, it was nearing the crest of the gap.

“We're almost there, my Prince!” Yelled Baron Kairôs, a youthful and eager man, given the fact he was one of those helping push the cannon. That's certainly a way to gain respect of the commoners; work alongside them. I wouldn't have minded having Kairôs rule Surana, back then... “Push!” Shouted the Baron, throwing himself against one of the wheels. With great effort, the cannon was rolled onto the highest part of the gap, and the team took a break to catch their breaths.

“Excellent work.” Congratulated Aharôs. “Can you hit the gate from here?”

“What?” Asked someone from the group.

“Can you hit the gate from here?”

“God willing.” Stated a soldier, an artilleryman, by the the white feather in his helmet, and his obvious difficulty hearing... “Just tell us when to shoot, my Prince.” They kept it loaded all the way here!? Madness! Someone could have been killed, just the wrong spark in the wrong place...

“Then break down that gate.” Ordered the Prince. Tempest jumped into the air as best her armor would allow, and flew off a good twenty yards. Sir Turaz, Sergeant Haior, Prince Aharôs, Baron Kairôs, and everyone who wasn't operating the cannon simply covered their ears. The cannoneers shuffled about, aiming the weapon just where it needed to point. One produced a long rod with a smoldering hook, and stuck it in the back of the cannon.

Even with his ears tightly covered, Turaz jumped at the tremendous blast, and soon found himself covered in the white smoke of gunpowder explosions. “Can't see a thing-” someone grumbled.

“Well?” Loudly asked the artilleryman who had spoken earlier. “Did we hit it?”

“Gate's got a hole blown right through it!” Exclaimed a soldier below.

“Haha!” The artilleryman crowed in triumph. “It's all yours, my Prince!”

“Not quite yet!” Shouted Aharôs in reply, loud enough for everyone in the courtyard to hear him. “Arquebusiers, give us covering fire.” He ordered, drawing his sword. Turaz hoisted his halberd up, standing close to his liege. Sergeant Haior in turn stood beside the knight. Around them, Baron Kairôs, the Thechai troops, and Athairîm soldiers all gathered, forming loose ranks. “Set your marks...” Metal squeaked and boots shuffled on stone, Turaz and Haior closed their visors. “Fire.” A rattle of shots and a veritable storm of white smoke was unleashed, once again shrouding the keep from view. If only some kind of smokeless powder was possible... Turaz sighed to himself. “Forth!”

Many soldiers shouted their kingdom's battlecry, even some of the men from Thecha, but Turaz and the Prince said nothing as he joined the rush. The bold yells of the charge quickly turned into the anguished and tense shouts of combat, as they learned where the Verâdîm had been hiding all this time.

“Any tricks this time?” Asked Turaz, before they went through the ruined gate.

“No. We'll do this the way it's always been done: with fire and steel.” Prince Aharôs threw off his cloak, and followed his soldiers inside. Here we go.

Turaz of Surana spent the next hour fighting room to room with Haior and the Prince not far away. It was a terrible blur of blood and pain, and he nearly killed one of their own before realizing that some Athairîm had made it to the roof, and were now attacking from above. The keep was theirs not long after. When Turaz emerged back into fresh air, he sat down and laid back against one of the walls. Aharôs was not in as poor a condition, he still had the energy to drag the castle's lord out alive, and summoned Verâdîm prisoners and Loiar-sworn soldiers alike to the scene.

“What is your name?” Demanded the Prince, throwing the man to the ground. He was in the typical Verâd green, his armor was dented and broken in several places. Blood leaked out from someplace hidden. Lined up by the keep, those captured alive looked on uneasily.

“T- Tetarôs Nôlov.” Gasped the lord of the castle. “Count of Seshîlîon.”

“I seem to recall house Nôlov proclaiming loyalty to my kingdom.” Recounted Aharôs, pacing around the wounded Count. Turaz looked off to his right, finding Tempest Blackwind standing there, looking frightened and shaken and splattered by blood. How'd that happen? wondered the knight, before focusing back on the Prince's growing monologue. “But here you are, flying the banner of the rebellion that has plagued us for over twenty years! I wonder how this came to be?” Aharôs waved his sword in the direction of the Count.

“Verâd is for the Verâdîm.” Declared Tetarôs Nôlov. “We will not be ruled by foreign upstarts!”

“Zhevakôs Loiar is your King by law. Verâd law. Athair law. Imperial law.” The Prince stated. “Verâd is, by law, as much a part of Athair as Thecha is.” Baron Kairôs crossed his arms, and nodded slowly, agreeing with the Prince and dispelling any ideas in his own soldiers. “You, Tetarôs Nôlov, by law, are a traitor to the realm, and thus have earned a traitor's reward. Cut off his head.”

“Coward!” Spat the Count of Seshîlîon. “If you're going to kill me, do it yourself!”

“So be it.” Aharôs said coldly. He sheathed his sword, walked away from the lord of the castle, and took an arquebus from the hands of a soldier. “I'm afraid my weapon wasn't forged for beheading, though. This will have to do.” He pointed the arquebus at the Count's head.

“You-” Whatever the Count had to say, it was cut off as Aharôs pressed the firing lever.

“Lord of Heaven.” Quietly said Sergeant Haior, from nearby. The smoke cleared quickly, revealing an Aharôs that looked very collected.

“From now on, I will do my executions with a shot to the head. It is far more merciful than an ax or sword to the neck.” Stated the Prince, looking at the body. “Someone, get this cleaned up. Baron Kairôs, it seems house Nôlov has forsaken this castle, it is now yours. I'll have Îrilôs draw up the writs of attainder for the rest of them.”

“My Prince-” Began Kairôs, looking incredibly shocked and most pleased. “I can't begin to express my gratitude.”

“You can continue fighting for me as you have today.” Dismissed the Prince, handing the arquebus to the soldier he took it from. “To your tasks, soldiers.” Slowly, a murmur of conversation and movement returned to the courtyard. Chains clinked as the few Verâdîm soldiers they had captured were put in chattels. Those who could not fight were left free, to move somewhere else, or continue their work in the battered stronghold that now belonged to a man who had never seen it before the previous night.

“You've won a great victory today, my Prince.” Turaz said, standing wearily.

“Indeed. I did not enjoy it, but I will do it again and again if I must, all the way to Dônara-Kur. The war ends by Saint Zefîr's Day.” Aharôs replied firmly. Saint Zefîr's Day? That's the fall equinox... They had a season and a half to crush the Verâdîm once and for all. Could it be done? But there was another, more pressing question Turaz had:

“Queen Tempest, what happened to you?” The young pegasus jumped at being addressed.

“I- I'd rather not talk about it right now.” She said shakily.

“First time killing?” Questioned the knight again. Tempest looked away.

“I have to go.” The pegasus replied, taking flight and heading back in the direction of camp. Definitely her first time, then. Wouldn't be surprised if she gets sick... Or if she already has. Turaz had, all those years ago. It was far messier than the stories made it out to be... No doubt that had shocked the exiled queen too.

“And I told her to stay put... Looks like I'll have to talk to her later. I remember Heranôs not sleeping well after his first kill, I won't have the same for Tempest.” Observed Prince Aharôs grimly, referencing a distant time from his youth. “Getting a fifteen year-old girl to understand something like this...”

“You'll find a way, my Prince.” Turaz stated, stifling a yawn. “You've brought her this far already, and done a damn fine job of it.”

“Sometimes I've doubt that.” Aharôs mused quietly.

“Good. I had the same thoughts raising my own children, it always drove me to try harder to get things right.” The knight replied. Aharôs's pale grey eyes squinted at him questioningly.

“I'm not Tempest's father.” He said dryly.

“No, but you're as close to one as she'll ever have.” This seemed to silence the Prince, as he stared off into nothing very intensely. “Tempest knows right from wrong, very strongly. It's easy to see where she gets that from.”

“So it is.” Agreed Aharôs. “I must talk to the Imperial Envoy now. You may take supper on your own.” He stated, quickly walking off down the gap to his zôsha.

“Sir, you have quite a habit of making people leave.” Sergeant Haior said, approaching with a helmet full of water, which he then splashed over his head.

“It comes with getting old, I fear.” Sighed Turaz. “You shouldn't put water in your helmet.”

“Princes shouldn't fight without helmets.”

“Fair enough.” Turaz looked at the top of the keep, where the banner of house Loiar now flew. If they kept winning like this, Saint Zefîr's Day would see everyone home in time for harvest.

Whoever survived, that was.

Author's note: Uh oh, looks like trouble found Tempest while Aharôs and friends were inside. Yeah, I glossed over a lot of the fighting, mostly because I don't think an hour of brutal close-quarters melee is something I want to write. The rest of this was troublesome enough as it was, thus me taking 11 days to get it out. Shame, Mr. Hood, shame! By the way, if you're imaging a zôsha to look like a horse-sized this, you are correct.

If you see any errors, please tell me. If you have criticisms, questions, anything, please tell me. I can't improve unless you speak, dear reader!