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General Tavers was ready and waiting when the messenger came to his room to summon him to King Bastion. His battle experience had left him a light sleeper and this impending mission to Grey City had him on edge. It just didn't sit right with him that the queen, a woman with no affinity for combat, would be so excited to be on a battlefield. He had seen soldiers with such zeal before. They were dangerous, hot-headed, heavy-handed, and tended to commit actions unbecoming of a soldier with a scrap of honor. Her role in this was unknown for now; only the king knew what she was planning.
He hid his relief well when he entered the throne room and it was just the king waiting for him and the queen was nowhere in sight. "Yes, my liege?"
"Is our army ready to deploy?" King Bastion was already setting out his armor and his sword rested against the table in a cavalier way that made Tavers grind his teeth in frustration. Would it be so hard to give such a weapon proper care?
"At your order, we can be ready to march within the hour."
"Excellent." He smiled. "Get them ready to march at dusk. We will travel by night and arrive around sunset the next day."
"Understood, my king. It will be done at once." He stood to leave.
"And general?"
He froze on the spot and kneeled. "Pardon, me. I did not mean to presume-"
"Enough, we are beyond such brown-nosing." King Bastion rolled up a copy of the map and held it out. "We will be at the head of the army. You will back up the queen and I while she casts her spell. There are detailed instructions on the map I gave you."
"Yes, sire. I will inform the soldiers." This time he lingered a moment before the king waved him away and then he left. He waited to be clear of the throne room before looking at the map and the further instructions he was given. With each word color drained from his face. General Tavers understood the sacrifices of war, and the compromises that needed to be made when it was your mission to end the lives of others. You lived with the blood on your hands. But the orders before him were a disgusting bastardization of the difficult choices made on the battlefield. Hold back. Let the queen kill. Massacre all survivors down to the last child.
But he had to obey. The edict of the king could not be denied.
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PASHA WAS NEARLY SOUND asleep before Mica landed hard on his abdomen. "By the gods, boy. What could possibly-"
"They're moving. We need to get a message out." The boy shoved a scrap of paper and smudged charcoal into his hands. "As soon as it can go, it's gotta go."
"Baby boy, what is going on?" Ragio was unapologetic in her annoyance after a very long days work.
In hushed whispers, so they wouldn’t wake the baby, Mica relayed what he had heard and Pasha recorded it in a way that would fit on the scrap of paper provided. A hastily made signal brought a hawk to them to send the message to Grey City. What did it matter if they were caught now? If things went poorly, a swift execution for aiding escapees would be a mercy compared to what was to come.