Michael Stackpole - At the Queen_s command

The Ungarakii melted into the wilderness and the Seven Nations announced their neutrality in all wars of the white men.

The Fourth Foot garrisoned the Fortress of Death, which they renamed Fort Hammer-the name based on the fort's location at Anvil Lake. The Mystrians, the cavalry, and Lord Rivendell all headed back to Hattersburg, making the return trip in half the time.

They could have made better time, but despite wanting to be home again in time for harvest, the men remained reluctant to break apart their company. Vlad understood and agreed. Combat had brought together men from all over Mystria. They had faced crack troops from Tharyngia and beaten them.

The grumbling from the cavalry limping at the end of the column only made them feel better.

In their absence, Hattersburg had been transformed. They returned on August twelfth to a town largely unlike the one they'd left a month earlier. Horses filled brand new corrals. Warehouses nearly burst with supplies. Men wearing Kessian blue sashes-locals with Seth Plant at their head-stood guard. They herded the redcoat cavalry away from the horses at gunpoint, and the Prince was directed to Gates' Tavern.

He'd barely dismounted Mugwump when the door flew open and Gisella, her golden hair flashing, threw herself into his arms. He caught her as best he could, but she still knocked him back into the wurm's flank. His betrothed wrapped him up in a hug so tight that he gasped for breath, then she kissed him and clean took his breath away.

She pulled back quickly. "I love you, my darling. The days without you have been agony."

Vlad laughed. "It is the same for me, but what are you doing here?"

Gisella smiled, then looked down. "I knew your timetable, yes, and I saw there were delays. When messages came from Hattersburg saying you were going on and supplies had not arrived, I had to do something. Mrs. Frost and the others, we made men work. We shamed them and set things to right. And the people here said they gave you their supplies and wanted these, but I would not let them take them until you gave me leave."

The Prince drew her into his arms and kissed her heartily. A great cheer arose from among the Mystrians, though the few who dared shout, "To the top!" were buffeted into silence by more sensible companions. Colonel Daunt directed men to the warehouses to relieve the Hattersburgians.

Shortly after they broke that second kiss, Gisella noticed Vlad's discolored right hand. She took hold of it and he winced.

She rolled his sleeve up. "What have you done?"

"It was nothing."

Her head whipped around. "And where are you going, Count von Metternin?"

The Kessian smiled, his hands hidden behind his back. "I thought, Highness, I should see to a table within where the Prince and I, with your permission, could recuperate from our long and arduous journey."

Gisella's eyes narrowed. "Your hands."

Von Metternin held them out.

"Remove your gloves and roll up your sleeves."

He complied. "You will not accept we were arm wrestling and hurt ourselves?"

"I thought I told you to keep him safe."

"Is he not safe?"

She stamped her foot. "Do not mock me, my lord."

Vlad reached out, gently taking hold of her chin, and turned her face to him. "You will come to understand why we did what we did. It may seem reckless and foolish, but had we not acted, many women in Mystria would be widows, and children without their fathers." He patted Mugwump with his free hand. "Mugwump kept us alive. Save your ire, and be pleased he brought us home."

Gisella looked hard into his eyes for a handful of heartbeats, then turned and walked to the wurm's muzzle. She kissed him beneath an eye and stroked his skin. "Thank you."

The wurm raised his head, his lower jaw dropping open ever so slightly, as if smiling.

She came around again. "As for the two of you, there is a place in the tavern by the fire. We have even taught them to brew a good beer."

Gisella took his left hand and led him inside. The Count, Owen Strake, and others joined them. The Prince ordered the distribution of food to the people of Hattersburg. The entire town erupted into a spontaneous celebration, lessened not at all by Rivendell and his cavalry claiming their horses and setting off on the ride back to Temperance.

Gisella had not been wrong. Gates' beer had lost the sour edge. The tavern-keeper roasted two steers, slicing off thick slabs of meat which the men devoured happily-all the while jesting about how they missed road rations. Stories began to be told about what had happened at Fort Hammer, and many a mug was raised in the Prince's honor.

Through it all, Gisella held his hand, and when men cheered for him, she squeezed. She listened intently as the recollections flowed. "And then alls I knew," claimed one man, "the guns had stopped and Mugwump done smashed the wall. To the top it was!"

Vlad had looked at her. "They exaggerate."

"Not enough by half." She took his hand in both of hers and raised it to her mouth for a kiss. "But I understand. What you did was for them, not for yourself. That is the man I love."

August 12, 1764

Hattersburg, Lindenvale, Mystria

"A in't you gonna come celebrate?" Nathaniel, standing in front of Gates' Tavern as dusk crept over the town, gave Kamiskwa a puzzled look. "Ain't no reason you shouldn't."

"Prince Vladimir has already made his thanks to the Shedashee known." Kamiskwa smiled. "Each warrior has two horses, even those who fell, and all the grain those horses can carry. It is not far from here to Saint Luke and the Lanatashee villages. Our people will be very grateful. He also allowed us each two jackets from the fallen Ryngians, and shot and brimstone to replace what we used."

Nathaniel frowned. "That ain't telling me why you won't be celebrating. I know you gots something on your mind."

"My brother is very perceptive." Kamiskwa glanced down. "You know our ways. We celebrate great victories. We mourn our losses. We recount great courage in songs and stories."

"As do we."

"And for you, this is a great victory." The Altashee smiled. "And I shall sing of Prince Vlad's courage, and Mugwump's effort. There shall be much joy at hearing these things. My father will again ask the Prince to take my sister Ishikis as his wife."

"I reckon Princess Gisella ain't going to be having none of that."

"No. My brother, I honor the effort of this army, and yet I fear it." Kamiskwa pointed toward men wandering through the town, musket in one hand, bottle in the other. "You have taught farmers and shopkeepers that they can travel into the wilderness and kill other men. They will come to see the Shedashee as enemies, for we deny them land as the Tharyngians did. Old alliances will be forgotten, old prejudices will rise, and more blood will flow."

Nathaniel frowned. "I reckon you're more right than I care to admit." It wasn't so much what Nathaniel had heard in stories about the battle, but how the stories got told. Among the men there wasn't room for great amounts of exaggeration. That would come later, the further distant they were from the fight and others who could keep them honest. Three thousand men had taken part on the Mystrian side of the battle, but there'd be three or four times that many claiming to have been there in a year or two.

He caught himself. It hadn't been the Mystrian side of the battle; it had been the Norillian side, but men were already casting it as a Mystrian victory. And that wasn't that far from the truth, given that Mystrians had taken Fort Cuivre, had sailed the sloop down the river, and had taken the upper fort. Men were beginning to see themselves as Mystrians, not Norillians, and they weren't ever going to see the Shedashee as Mystrians.