Chapter Thirty
The barrack members present rose as she entered. There was silence for a moment before Genji asked, “How are Fidelity and Nel?”
“They will both recover. Fidelity is sleeping while Sabir keeps her company. I imagine significant amounts of food and rest will see her back on her feet shortly. Nel is under care.”
She took a deep breath. “I want to acknowledge all of you for your actions today. Facing an opponent in those numbers is not an easy thing to rush into. If you take my advice you will all have a very strong drink and go to bed.“
Dahlia located an herb-infused liquor and passed it to her barrack along with cups. She entertained discussion while they drank.
“What was the title they called you by, Captain?”
“Puppet Master. It’s from an old, obscure creature of legend that could summon and control shadows as well as the minds of other people. It’s an annoying coincidence that my abilities are somewhat parallel to his in the eyes of people who don’t know any better.” She dismissed the accusations that had haunted her for her adult life as if they were nothing but children’s stories. It was true though. It was annoying and used by people who didn’t know better. The few people who really knew her had never used the title.
“So they think you’re some kind of fairy tale monster? That’s the most absurd reason for staging a battle I’ve ever heard!” one of her soldiers called out.
“It is ridiculous,” she agreed, “and why the council is certain that it is simply a misdirection meant to mislead their citizens and obscure their true purpose. I’m sure you noticed that many of those men were not trained soldiers.”
“That’s disgraceful! Who would put the people they are sworn to protect in harm’s way like that? It’s like pushing them out for slaughter,” Rent spat out.
“It’s a disgraceful but sadly effective tactic,” Arreal said regretfully. “As you experienced, sheer numbers can overwhelm skill and training. If the men are nothing but cattle to you then you can throw them at your enemy until they are overwhelmed.”
Dahlia nodded, “But against our walls numbers are meaningless so they must have a strategy. Today they just took advantage of an unexpected opportunity. This was not their original plan. They expected to sow fear and mistrust among us today through that display. Captain Mazaran’s counter of a trial by combat prevented that but at the cost of some of our men.”
Jo-jo looked down at his hands, “That is not a position I envy Captain Mazaran. I would never want to be faced with a decision like that.”
Dahlia looked at him, “You are right, it is not easy, and we are lucky to have a commander who feels the weight of those decisions. As opposed to our opponent, whose commander seems comfortable sacrificing his people like pawns in pursuit of power. Those men we fought and killed today were not evil. Things are rarely that black and white. I spoke to the man who challenged me and he was a friend of my old master. He thought he was protecting his people. He knew nothing of the webs of lies and cruelty that have entangled the men he fought to protect.” She paused as regret crept into her voice, “And I was powerless to show him.”
There was silence for a moment. Then Dahlia drained her cup and stood up. “But remember next time you face them that they do not see you that way. If you hesitate to kill them, they will not hesitate to kill you. We cannot always afford to keep the bigger picture in mind.”
Her barrack members followed her example, finishing their drink and leaving to return to their rooms for what was left of the night. Dahlia walked back herself, alone in the night air. She felt the comfortable darkness around her, the familiar surroundings a balm against the upheaval of the day. As she neared her door she felt the weight of events growing heavy, threatening to crack the strong face she’d been wearing. She was finally removed from the rush of battle and the worries for her soldiers that had consumed her mind earlier. Now she was left with nothing but dread of the consequences that might follow the public revelation of her hated title and the blame laid at her feet. She reached a weary had towards her door, barely registering it until a flash of moonlight just above eye level caught her attention.
She looked further up the door. The blade of a dagger embedded in it reflected a sliver of moonlight. She eyed it for a moment and recognition came to her, it was the same one Zarek had thrown at her. Her breath caught and she reached up to pull it out. As her hand touched the handle she caught a sense of a familiar presence.
“Kenny,” she said softly and felt a chill despite the warm night.
She couldn’t mistake the meaning, he’d left it there for her. A promise that anyone posing a threat would meet the same fate as the dagger’s former owner. Dahlia wasn’t naive enough to think it was a sign of chivalry on his part. No, he recognized she was strong enough to protect herself. It was a mark of possession, he had begun to think of her as his and wouldn’t accept anyone interfering. Dahlia couldn’t hide from the part of her that was fascinated by the idea.