Cane was already mid-swing when the guard sensed something. His eyes went wide just before his head rolled away. Cane caught the body, lowering it silently to the ground.
Cane:Can you take out the roving and entry guards quietly?
Fergis: Like church mice. Stealth up—we're moving.
Fergis: Clara, a bit of assistance. Get in position to put that sentry to sleep.
Clara: Got it.
Fergis moved along the roving guard's path, Azar already drawn.
Clara: Say the word, and he's out.
The roving guard held a bow, his expression bored as he made brief eye contact with the stationary guard.
Fergis: Now.
Azar struck cleanly—thrust through the back, the flaming blade exiting the chest and cooking the man from the inside out before being withdrawn.
A meaty thunk echoed as the butt of Clara's blunderbuss cracked against the stationary guard's neck.
Fergis dropped stealth, approaching where Clara and Dhalia stood near the unconscious man.
Clara:Should I tie him up?
Fergis knelt, touching the man's chest and sending a pulse of flame through his organs.
Fergis: Nope. Let's move.
Dhalia exchanged a glance with Clara but said nothing.
Cane:Dhalia, second tent from the left. Small one, perpendicular to the others—see it?
Dhalia:Yes.
Cane:Injured men inside. They're not part of this group. Heal them.
Dhalia: On it.
Cane:Clara, cover both large tents. Blast anyone who tries to exit. Fergis, we're clearing the remaining sentries.
Fergis:Rover or stationary?
Cane:You take the rover.
Cane moved ahead, sprinting toward the stationary guard before the rover could turn and notice anything amiss.
Fergis:In position. How long?
Cane: Count to five.
Cane reached his mark and dropped the sentry with a clean strike from Starstrike.
Cane:All clear on my side. You good?
Fergis: Course.
Inside the tent, Dhalia had already triaged the prisoners.
One had broken ribs and a punctured lung. Another had both feet shattered—likely from the bloodied hammer nearby. The third, bruised but alert, stirred as she worked.
A green glow filled the tent as Dhalia began. Bone reknit. Tendons reconnected. Flesh reformed.
The injured man woke suddenly, panic in his eyes.
"Calm yourself," Dhalia said gently, pressing her hand to his chest. "You're safe. We're here to help."
The man nodded faintly, glancing toward his companion. "Where's Holland?"
"If Holland's the archer, he's with our team leader," Dhalia replied, pressing a finger to his lips. "You're still in danger. No talking."
When the man with broken feet groaned, he quickly covered his mouth to muffle the sound as Dhalia continued her healing.
It was brutal, soul-heavy work. Mending someone who'd been tortured. Dhalia's stomach churned. Elohan had been right—killing a beast was far easier than this.
Cane:How's healing?
Dhalia: Almost done.
Cane:Stay put. Everyone, regroup at the prisoner tent.
A few minutes later, Rita, Holland, and the two rescued men were reunited. Their relief—and joy—was obvious. They'd been through hell together.
Dhalia frowned. "We know her."
Clara tilted her head. "Do we?"
Fergis squinted. "There's something familiar…"
"It's Rita," Cane said softly. "Keep your voices low."
Clara winced. "The teamster from our first mission?"
Cane nodded. "That's her. But we don't have time."
He turned to Rita and the others. "You can run if you want."
Rita shook her head. "These people killed a lot of our friends. If it's all the same to you—we'd like some payback."
"Alright. First tent holds six men. I already removed their weapons."
He pulled gear from his ring, handing out armor and weapons. "Second tent still has weapons. We'll hit both at once."
Clara grinned. "So you didn't take everything, huh?"
"Didn't have time. Fergis—we enter from opposite sides. Clara, hit the nearest one. We'll take the rest."
The soft snores of six men shattered.
BOOM.
The man in the nearest bunk lost the top of his head in a spray of blood.
Clara flinched, grimacing as she jumped aside—then clubbed a second soldier to the ground as he sprang up, dazed.
BALEFIRE.
BALEFIRE.
Twin bursts of white fire streaked across the tent, cauterizing as they burned. The blasts punched clean through two targets, leaving smoking, see-through wounds.
Cane hurled Starstrike into the chest of a man lunging for his weapon. The blade sank into his skull with a dull thunk.
Drawing Starbolt, Cane blocked a wild strike, then cut through his attacker's throat in a single motion.
BOOM.
Clara had reloaded and finished off the one she'd knocked down.
The echo of fighting spilled from the second tent.
Cane ducked his head in—and paused.
It was over.
Hacked limbs. Still-burning corpses. Fergis, Rita, and Holland stood among the dead. The violence had been… thorough.
"All clear," Rita called.
"We're clear, too," Cane replied.
Clara staggered to the side, pale and shaking, and vomited quietly.
Fergis moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Rita stepped out of the tent, eyes scanning the aftermath. She saw Clara, then looked down at one of the corpses.
"These men were murderers. Rapists." Her voice didn't waver. "We had two other women with us… The things they did—" She swallowed. "They weren't people. Monsters."
Cane:Let's start searching for intel. Check every tent, crate, chest, or satchel. Grab rings and bracelets, too. Could be spatial storage—Zuni Empire is known for it.
Cane turned to Rita and her group.
"You'll need to clear out while we finish the mission."
Rita nodded. "Mind if we take some horses?"
"Gear up, mount up, and ride," Cane said, his tone final. Their brief alliance was ending. And he wasn't going to risk complications.
"Understood." Rita hesitated. "Thank you, Cane. We'll remember this."
He gave a short wave. "Be safe."
She lingered just a moment longer, watching him. "Your eyes… they didn't glow like that before."
Cane:Did you use Balefire twice in a row?
Fergis:Sure did. Thanks to Azar, I can go three times if I have to. But that would wipe me. Two is manageable.
One of the fallen officers wore two storage rings. One brimmed with weapons, armor, and gear. The other? Completely empty.
Cane claimed the latter.
"Intel ring," he muttered, tossing in maps, reports, briefings—anything that looked remotely official.
He frowned, spotting a gleam at the bottom of a clothes chest.
Cane: How's the tent search?
Clara: Found some food. Snacking… stomach feels better.
Cane chuckled softly.
Cane: Let's go find that warehouse. Something feels off.
He exited the command tent and spotted Fergis and Clara nearby.
"Where's Dhalia?" Cane asked.
"She went to get the horses," Fergis said, catching the small object Cane tossed his way.
"Recognize it?" Cane asked.
Fergis turned it over. "Military insignia. Executive Officer rank. Nameplate says 'Brea.' You know her?"
"I do," Cane said darkly. "And if I'm right, we might be in over our heads."
Clara stopped mid-bite and took the insignia, flipping it over a few times just as Dhalia rode up with the horses in tow.
Cane:Mount up. I'll brief you on the way.
He tapped his falconer rune. Amber light filled his eyes. "Scout north."
Pudding soared skyward.
A few minutes later, through the hawk's vision, Cane spotted it—tucked into the rocks five miles out: a wooden building. Quiet. Still. Waiting.
His vision dimmed back to soft starlight.
"We're heading north."
Dhalia rode beside him, visibly relieved. "Where exactly?"
"Rita mentioned a warehouse," Cane explained. "Struck me as odd. But in the bigger picture—it makes sense."
"It does," Fergis agreed. "Store supplies here, sell to both sides. In wartime? Price gouging turns to profit."
Clara's voice perked up, the color returning to her freckled cheeks. "War always has its leeches."
"It's not just the warehouse," Cane said, voice low. "That badge—the shape."
"Shape?" Clara asked.
Fergis squinted. "Right… Some units stylize their insignia. That one looked like… a bird?"
"A raptor," Cane corrected.
Fergis whistled. "Wait. Raptor Battalion?"
"Exactly."
Dhalia gasped. "XO Brea—she was the one! Raptor Battalion was heading to Stonehold. She coordinated with two other units, sharing classified route info. Invited them to join up."
"And that's… bad?" Clara asked.
Fergis nodded grimly. "Legacy officer. She screwed up big. Got three battalions wiped out."
"She probably deserted rather than face trial," Dhalia added.
Cane's eyes narrowed. "Or worse—what if she was a plant?"
"No…" Fergis's voice turned hard. "You think she led them into that ambush on purpose?"
"It's a theory," Cane said. "But we take her alive."
He dismounted near a stand of trees. "We go in on foot. Rita said she was alone, but let's not trust that."
"Hold up," Clara said, tying off her reins. "Didn't that ambush lead to Cane's Folly being fired? That destroyed the Black Legion."
"Yeah," Dhalia nodded. "Which wouldn't have been her fault, but… maybe why she didn't get a promotion."
"Armor at the camp was blackened," Fergis added. "They were hiding old rank plates."
Cane: We go in clean. I'll take her. We gag her, strip her of any enchantments, bag her head—done.
They approached the warehouse in single file. Dhalia and Clara flanked around the back while Cane and Fergis took the main entrance.
Dhalia:There's a loading dock with a big door—locked with a padlock.
Clara:No other ways in.
Cane: On my signal.
Inside, a woman with short dark hair stood reading a ledger. Her eyes gleamed with greed—then widened as Cane struck her in the gut. She doubled over. He lifted her by the collar and slammed her to the floor.
Fergis and Clara pinned her arms, stripping away rings and bracers.
Dhalia yanked back her hair, revealing earrings, a necklace, a decorative pin. She tossed it all aside, shoved a rag into the woman's mouth, and tied it in place. A bag went over her head.
Cane flipped her over, and Clara finished the search.
"Boot dagger," she said, holding it up.
"Perfect." Cane's starlight bloomed. He immersed into the blade, melting and twisting it into a lockless shackle, which he snapped onto her wrists.
Fergis gave an approving nod. "How're they supposed to get that off?"
"Not my problem."
Clara had already begun digging through the crates stacked to the ceiling.
"Heavens… This is a lot of stuff."
"We need to get back." Cane hefted the bound woman over his shoulder, then broke into a jog toward the horses.