It was around twenty-five days after our departure from Cintra when we arrived in Marnadal. Rather good time. It was well into autumn now, but if the construction stayed on track, the fort would be built up enough for us to winter here. Not that the cold was particularly harsh this far south.

  I was even looking forward to it. A military fortress in the middle of nowhere wasn’t exactly a holiday destination, but it would allow me time to pursue my work properly. The hounds were likely ready to undergo the transformation, though I was unsure if the spell itself was. Then Monck could follow. If everything went well, perhaps I could scrounge up some volunteers amongst my own soldiers. I doubted any would be eager to turn into literal monsters, but more subtle enhancements? It was hard to say if such a thing would be worth my time, but that was what experimentation was for.

  Of course, my plans were derailed the moment Dreadhold came into view as I immediately spotted the rider rushing from its walls towards our force. Unsettled, I spurred my horse forward, the Royal Guards following me.

  Once we neared, I vaguely recognised the man as one of the scouts. He immediately dismounted, dropping to his knees, “Lady Degurechaff! You must hurry to the camp, or there will be bloodshed!”

  I frowned, “What is happening, soldier?”

  “It’s the elves! One of them died and…”

  I spurred my horse with a shout, not waiting to hear anything more.

  I barely had time to appreciate the noticeable growth of the fortress, as our horses raced through the newly constructed gate, straight towards the shouting.

  We rode to the back of the fort, straight over the foundations of the inner walls, and into the large campgrounds located there. There, surrounding one of the larger tents in the area of the Archer battalion, stood likely the vast majority of my elves with Isengrim in the lead, while opposite them stood Sorin alongside a hundred or so of his own, while Roderic, Ortagor and Cyril stood in the middle.

  Ortagor was completely red in the face, screaming at Sorin, “LIES! I DO NOT-”

  I cleared my throat, augmenting the sound slightly with a speck of Power, instantly attracting everyone’s attention.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I asked, my eyes swerving towards Roderic.

  The Knight took a step towards me, “Lady Degurechaff,” he greeted with a bow, “One of our soldiers,” Sorin scoffed, before falling silent once my eyes found his, while Roderic continued, “Was found dead in Commander Sorin’s tent.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he really meant. One of the elves was dead in a most inconvenient manner.

  I surveyed the gathered soldiers from my horse before speaking, “To kill or maim one of our own is to weaken the might of the Crown, of Cintra. It is to aid the enemy. It is treason.”

  My eyes turned back to Sorin, who had gone remarkably pale, before flicking to Isengrim, who might as well have been made from stone. Then, I noticed a black-haired elven woman standing slightly behind him, her hand on her sword. She was still, but hers was the stillness of a drawn bowstring.

  I eyed her carefully before I dismounted from my horse. Everyone present watched me in silence as I approached Sorin. Though the man was of average height, he was still a bit taller than me.

  “Explain,” I commanded, his eyes flicked away, before he met my gaze and straightened, “One of the elves, approached me inappropriately. I disciplined her as is my duty, but she was alive and well when I had left.”

  “You are not doing yourself any favours with this sophistry, Commander,” I spoke coldly, “How exactly did you discipline her?”

  Sorin winced, “A slap, nothing more!”

  “YOU DARE TO LIE, YOU MONGREL!” Ortagor shouted, making me turn towards him.

  “Why do you think he is lying, Baron?” I asked.

  Ortagor looked like an enraged bull, but my words made him visibly calm down, “The back of the victim’s skull is shattered, Lady Degurechaff. What this up-jumped commoner claims is nothing but a pack of lies.”

  I sighed internally. I had almost hoped that Ortagor was really that incensed at someone killing one of our people - even if they were an elf - but no. He was angry because he thought a commoner was lying to his face.

  I could only be grateful for the general lack of nobility amongst my ranks.

  “The truth will be revealed soon. Baron Ortagor, the Queen has sent reinforcements. Please go make sure they settle in - outside of the outer walls. Their training will start tomorrow,” I nodded towards the large man, whose gaze flicked towards Sorin, before he left with a gruff, “Of course.”

  “Roderic,” I nodded to the knight, “Gather your most trusted men and bar the gates, as well as the battlements. No one goes in or out for now.”

  I didn’t wait for a response, striding towards the tent. Isengrim watched me with his usual apathy, though I saw a flicker of concern when the black-haired elf stepped forward, before he placed his hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

  I passed them without comment.

  The victim was apparent immediately. An elderly elven woman I vaguely recognised, lying on the ground, a pool of blood around her head. After examining her briefly, I had to agree with Ortagor. Her skull was shattered. I could not see how this could have happened accidentally, even if she fell badly after getting slapped.

  My eyes narrowed. The evidence seemed damming, but I had not picked Sorin’s name out of a hat. I had possibly misjudged his prejudice, but something felt fishy about this entire situation.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Voe'rle Gaeth,” I incanted, the tent immediately growing silent. The spell would hold for the few minutes necessary.

  “Grealghane,” I pointed at her corpse, which immediately began squirming. Its hands spastically dug at the ground, breaking some of its nails, while a long and mournful wail erupted from its throat.

  “Who killed you?” I asked, gently.

  Its dead eyes met mine. The wailing stopped, and silence reigned.

  “Enemy,” it rasped, then ceased moving, a simple corpse once more.

  I clicked my tongue, then dismissed the silencing spell. It wasn’t a bad result, but neither was it the answer to my current woes I had hoped for.

  Luckily, I did not need divination to establish Sorin’s guilt, if he was the culprit.

  “Sorin. Isengrim. Come inside,” I barked, the two men entering soon after. Sorin was noticeably pale, but his combative expression was replaced with a giant frown once he spotted the corpse. Isengrim did not react at all.

  “I presume you found the body?” I asked Isengrim.

  He nodded, “Aevinne and I were the first.”

  “Aevinne?”

  “The black-haired one outside,” he explained.

  I nodded, “Why were you looking for the victim, and how did you know to search here?”

  The elf paused for a second, before continuing in a calm, almost bored tone of voice, “Ithilven,” he nodded towards the corpse, “Did not come to dinner, and had told Aevinne about her plans of talking with Commander Sorin.”

  I hummed, satisfied, turning to Sorin, “As you may be aware, it is within the power of magic to read the minds of men.”

  To my surprise, Sorin smiled before spreading his arms, “Please do so, Lady Degurechaff.”

  Despite my feelings, my face remained stony, as I plunged into his mind, before speaking again, “Did you kill Ithilven, accidentally or otherwise?”

  “No.”

  I stared, concentrating. He was speaking the truth.

  “Was she alive and healthy when you left this tent?”

  Sorin tilted his head, considering, “Her cheek likely hurt, but that was the extent of her discomfort. I had left to find Commander Isengrim, to talk about her inappropriate conduct.”

  Truth. Isengrim and Sorin must have missed each other, then.

  “Elaborate on her conduct.”

  “She was asking about you, Lady Degurechaff, talked about unity and other idio-, ehm, drivel.”

  “And you slapped her because of that?” I asked, somewhat incredulous.

  He shook his head, “I slapped her because she had entered my private tent uninvited.”

  I suppressed a sigh. He believed what he was saying. As much as it galled me to admit, I very much could see an Aen Seidhe sneaking into a tent to deliver a lecture.

  “For the record, your conduct was out of line, Commander. Any discipline for her own misconduct would have fallen to Commander Isengrim, and if you were dissatisfied by his decision, whatever it may have been, you should have brought it up to me. Understood?”

  Sorin nodded.

  “Now, do you know why she is dead in your tent?” I asked.

  Sorin hesitated at that, “No.”

  “He is speaking the truth,” I concluded, “It seems we have a murderer on the loose. Any thoughts, Isengrim?”

  The elf’s expression remained stony as he examined me, “An elf and a human walk into a tent. Only one walks out alive,” he said, making me tense, “I believe you daerienn. Yet I hope you understand how this looks.”

  I suppressed another sigh, this time one of relief. Before I clenched my teeth in anger, “This has to be deliberate. Unless this Ithilven had many enemies?”

  Isengrim shook his head in the negative.

  “However,” Sorin spoke up, “No one entered this tent after me.”

  “Nor was Ithilven seen leaving,” Isengrim added.

  I looked around the tent suspiciously. There was a camp bed, a folding table with a chair, a few stools, a weapon rack, and a small chest. Nowhere for anyone to hide.

  After having spent so long training with the portal spell, my mind immediately went there, but the idea of a portal-capable sorcerer being sent to do something like this was ridiculous considering the amount of recon required to pull it off, and the pay off. If they had that much information, they would have been better served by killing my officers instead.

  “Invisibility?” I muttered.

  “Human eyes are not infallible,” Isengrim added.

  “What are you suggesting, elf?” Sorin responded immediately.

  The elven commander looked at him placidly, “This is a tent. Magic isn’t necessary to enter unnoticed.”

  “And the guards?” Sorin retorted, voice brimming with sarcasm.

  I frowned again, “How did Ithilven get past them?”

  “They recognised her and she lied about her purpose, before barging in. I decided to hear her out first,” Sorin explained quickly. It made some sense. As an elderly elf, she was someone who stood out, though the guards should have been more diligent regardless.

  I tapped my pointer finger on the table.

  Tap tap tap.

  “Ithilven was killed by an enemy assassin who was searching for Commander Sorin. She died a hero. Guards on the outer wall will be doubled, while those trustworthy and most familiar with the surrounding land shall search for any suspicious people around,” I glanced meaningfully at Isengrim. The latter group would be mostly composed of elves, which would hopefully prevent any further incidents before this whole thing was solved.

  Isengrim saluted with his usual cold expression. I had little doubt that he understood my intentions. Whether the saboteur was caught was only half the issue, the soldiers, both human and elf, had to understand that this wasn’t a hate crime, but enemy action. Even if I couldn't be one hundred percent certain on that. Whatever the case, whoever it was clearly desired to drive a wedge between my men, so it was only logical that I would strive to do the opposite.

  Sorin looked a bit conflicted, but didn’t argue.

  I left the tent, quickly spotting Cyril and Bastan, and called them over. I quickly repeated the official explanation of what was happening, ordering them to spread it to their men.

  “The construction will be paused for now. Have your men place gravel or similar materials near the gates and the wall stairs, while doubling the guard. Instruct them to keep watch for invisibility,” I continued, before turning to Sorin, “Post archers on the walls and in the camp, they shall shoot any birds that try to enter.”

  Invisibility was a fairly common spell even middling sorcerers could pull off. Shapeshifting, on the other hand, was very rare amongst mages, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to seriously consider that the enemy had a vampire working for them, but I’d cover my bases.