I blinked, and the vast majority of my fury drained away. What replaced it was a mixture of disgust and bafflement.

  Disgust, because I was holding a severed head in my hands.

  And bafflement, because…

  “Why?” I said, flicking my eyes up to meet the helmeted gaze of Olag across from me. “Why did you kill him? We…thought the entire reason for the assault we repelled was…”

  “Because of that dog?” I heard Olag sneer as the Dwarf reached up with gauntleted hands to grasp his blackened steel helmet, with its frowning mask. “You would be correct.” With that, he undid a chin strap, and removed his helmet, freeing his head from its protective embrace.

  The semi-familiar features of Olag of House Florens greeted my eyes. He possessed the same fire-red hair and beard that Azarus did, if not in a slightly darker shade than either of his noble cousins. But he was generally neater than my best friend, without the unkemptness of a rough cut ponytail and wildness in his beard. He bore a close-cut, almost military-style haircut, while his beard was kept similarly close-cut, likely to better wear his helm. Hard-edged golden eyes, the recognizable shade of Dwarven nobility, stared out at me from angular features with a hint of interest in them. But by far the most recognizable feature about Olag was his facial tattoo.

  Spread out across the Dwarf’s entire face were blotches and lines arrayed like war-paint, done in whites, blacks, and reds. His entire face was covered in white ink, while around his eyes were great dark spots that seemed to run down his cheeks in weeping, bladed rivulets. Sharp red lines curled around the edges of his mouth and spiraled up and down both sides of his face, as well as down his neck, almost appearing like the edges of scythes ready to harvest. Together, the effect was far more interesting than I would have expected it to be.

  Rather than a clown, the Dwarf looked like a wild barbarian from the pages of history, ready to leap from them and rip your throat with his teeth.

  Quite at odds with his professional military appearance.

  “This…Bronzle,” Olag sneered once again, spitting off to the side at the name. “Discreetly signaled distress from the window of your…odd vehicle…” He trailed off for a moment, staring over my shoulder at the caravan of the expedition, in the distance behind us, the Ashen Bride prominent in the center. He shook his head and continued. “Using codes unique to the officer corp of the Principality Army. I’ve had scouts stationed out in the woods, watching for anyone who might be coming. They noticed the deliberate flashing of a mirror through a window and reported his message of distress to me. As I was, until very recently, under contract with Principality-”

  I very deliberately did not tense up at those words, even though I wanted to. It was interesting, though, that word he used.

  Was.

  Perhaps we could get out of this without further bloodshed.

  “-I thought it best to attempt a rescue of the fool, if only to receive word about what was happening outside this damnable forest. I sent many of my most skilled scouts out to organize an ambush upon his captors, only…” Olag broke off for a moment to scowl at the head in my hands. That only reminded me that I was still holding it, and I really didn’t want to. I dropped the severed head of Giancarlo Bronzle, along with the length of canvas it had been wrapped in. It thumped into the dirt road beneath us, and for some reason, Olag looked more satisfied to see it there. “Only he neglected to signal that his captors were from some kind of Herztalian expeditionary force. As such, my scout regrettably… assaulted someone I would not have wished to. Still, in the process of carrying out that operation, they had the good judgment capture more than a few members of your own organization, ranging beyond your borders. At this point, they are currently all sitting unmolested within our makeshift prison, within the walls.” He chuckled briefly. “I suspect we would have been having quite a different discussion if they had slain them to the last instead.”

  “That’s correct,” I said slowly, making sure I met his eyes to convey my seriousness. “If you had killed them, I would have done the same to you.”

  Olag merely smiled at my open threat, looking pleased by something.

  Weird fucker.

  Still.

  Sylvia had been right. This entire debacle, it really was all a mistake. I had nearly led us into a battle that we didn’t need. That was…sub-optimal.

  Questions still remained, however.

  “You’re saying you wouldn’t have wanted to attack us if you knew who we were?” I asked to confirm. At Olag’s nod, I frowned. “That’s…surprisingly sloppier than I would have expected. Your mistake not only cost me a dozen men, but you…significantly more than that.”

  Olag outright scowled, then. Still, he nodded. “Yes, I am well aware of that, Sir Hart. It is why I had that fool executed upon interrogating him. He had...many distressing things to tell me, when put to the question. I assure you, he didn’t die well.”

  A bit gruesome, but I wouldn’t shed a tear for Bronzle if Olag was telling the truth. It was…plausible, I suppose, that our captive could have signaled to his forces through a window. We had given Bronzle a room to stay in, which possessed a tiny window, bolted shut to keep him from doing anything rash. I had thought that a view of the outside would have helped keep the Dwarf compliant.

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  Only, it turned out he had been using it to try to guide an assault against us. I really shouldn’t have expected anything more from a prisoner.

  A trapped rat will always try to escape.

  Still, Olag’s words contained something else that interested me. “What else did he tell you?” I asked carefully.

  That seemed to break Olag out of his foul mood, if only temporarily. He looked up to stare at me in a considering way. “Many things that he would have been served better to keep to himself. That this fool had been a Venier Marine Captain, and you had decimated his fleet off the western coast, driven the rest off, and taken him captive, for one.”

  “Mostly true. Only, we didn’t drive anyone off. We destroyed his entire fleet and let him believe there were survivors.”

  I had wanted to impress upon Olag our ability, and maybe I did. But what I also did was cause the Dwarven noble to smile thinly, seeming viciously amused. “Well done,” He said, in an almost admiring tone. “Better treatment than that vermin deserved, I say. But he also informed us that your ultimate destination was my beloved Rhoscara. And when I asked him why you were so eager to return to the Red City, he told me. He told me all about how the Principality had dared, dared,” He hissed. “To declare Rhoscara and House Florens as rebels, and were venturing to my home to raze it to the ground. This, of course…I could not abide. So I killed him.”

  There were…a number of things to parse there, and many questions that his words raised. But they weren’t relevant at the moment.

  The only thing that mattered was whether this was going to come to a fight. I didn’t think it would, but I still needed confirmation before I lowered my guard.

  …a little bit.

  So I asked him.

  “If that’s the case…” I said slowly. “Then what do we do about the situation we find ourselves in? Even if we were manipulated into battle by an enemy, we still engaged in open conflict. There are corpses across the aisle between us, Olag. Both mine and yours.”

  The fury that had grown on the opposing Dwarf’s face faded, and he regarded me with a curious look on his painted face. “I’d think it would be obvious, of course,” He said, a note of confusion in his voice. “Yesterday’s enemies can become tomorrow’s allies with the changing of a banner. You can only truly know the worth of a potential ally by spilling their blood upon the field of battle. And yours has been proven. I do not lay the blame for my men’s death at the feet of any but that fool,” He spat, aiming right for the severed head of Bronzle. I withheld a shiver when it landed right in one of the dead Dwarf’s eternally open eyes. “We have no need for further conflict when there is so much to be gained by cooperation. I see no reason this little spat needs be continued…unless you want it to be?”

  Little spat…

  A battle that had claimed the lives of over fifty people was more than a ‘little spat’.

  I slowly shook my head at the armored Dwarf, mildly disturbed by the strangely eager tone in his voice. “That…won’t be necessary. My goal was to prevent further battle in the first place. Then, we’re in agreement? Both of our forces shall stand down?”

  Olag seemed slightly disappointed but still nodded at my question. “Yes, yes, I’m sure we have a great deal to speak about, hopefully in more…pleasant environs,” He said, glancing around with distaste on his features. “I will signal my Raven’s Beak to stand down, while you do the same to your…Order of the Polaris Reach, I believe? Then, we can retreat within the walls of Valle Spinetta, and we can discuss matters further. Including the release of our mutual prisoners.” At my nod, Olag turned his horse around and waved to his gathered men, just within the gates of this ‘Valle Spinetta’. Even at this distance, I was able to see the masses of heavily armored Dwarves relax a bit.

  I shared the sentiment, and as I turned and copied Olag’s movement, adding on a beckoning gesture both to the delegation and the expedition in the distance, I felt…a few things.

  Relief, that I had managed to right my mistake and avoid needless deaths.

  And frankly, a bit of exhaustion.

  Olag was…much as I remembered him. A person who was like all the worst arrogances and sociopathies of the nobility, sharpened into a strangely genial blade and wielded with impunity.

  The worst part was that he was competent, too.

  I just know he’d give me a splitting headache, before long.

  Still…one question remained. Something I’d been pondering for some time now.

  How had Olag been okay, standing outside of the ward?

  ……………………………………

  As Marcel split from the group I’d formed from negotiations to settle the caravan outside the high walls of Valle Spinetta, the rest of us cautiously walked through the gates. We had left the horses behind, because I wasn’t really sure they’d be able to easily fit through the narrow streets I could see on the other side. So, we were instead within a more defensive formation on foot, as we crept through the gates.

  Trust, but verify.

  Once inside, we were met with one of the military aides of Olag, who informed us that he’d lead us to the headquarters of the ‘Raven’s Beak’ here in town. The fully armed and armored Dwarf was seemingly apathetic to the fact that we had slain more than a few of his fellows, only hours ago.

  Though I noticed that wasn’t always the case, as we were led through the twisting streets of the city. On occasion, we would encounter other members of Olag’s mercenary company, seemingly poised at certain checkpoints within the maze-like city. Some of these mercs were more than willing to give us the evil eye as we passed, with one of them even spitting in our path as we did.

  Strangely, I didn’t see much of the actual residents of this town, as we were guided through it. None of them were out on the actual streets that I could see, though it’s not like we were going through any high-traffic areas. Mostly residential buildings, from what I could see. I thought I saw some shadows flitting across the windows, and more than a few peaking eyes through them as we were marched down the lanes. But none of the actual Dwarven inhabitants of Valle Spinetta.

  It gave this place a bit a ‘ghost-town’ feeling.

  I could see that more than one of my soldiers I had taken along was spooked as well, if not by the merc, then by the sheer atmosphere of the town. But they were all well seasoned by this point. I even considered Gustave to have been broken in.

  The nepo officer only looked mildly unnerved, instead of pants-shittingly terrified.

  Finally, though, the Raven’s Beak officer led us to one of the larger buildings here in town. What looked uncomfortably like the manor of a Dwarven noble. Just the familiar architectural notes I could see in the building were enough to set my hackles on end.

  The last time I had been in one of these, I had burned it to the ground.

  Ah, there we go. Pleasant memories of murdering Magnus were more than enough to calm me down.

  I was almost peaceful as the officer let us through the double doors of the manor, which I could see now was not nearly as gaudily gilded as his had been. It was almost tastefully done, I’d saw. Still plenty of gold, but there were at notes of a different color in the form of maroon.

  It was also packed to the brim with armored Raven’s Beak mercenaries, I could see. They lined the walls of the entryway, extending all the way into and beyond the atrium, framing a very deliberate path up the massive staircase within.

  Well. I could take a hint when it was given. Olag must be on the upper floors of this manse.

  Wordlessly, I gestured my people forward.

  Time to get some answers.