After spending several days fighting and moving around it was a relief to be able to drop the heavy armor right in front of her tent, knowing that someone would pick it up and get it back to her when it was clean. Its weight fell off of her and she stepped inside with a little, relieved sigh. Her tent was not much bigger than those of her soldiers, but it did have some advantages. The fact that there was a bath, that had already been filled with hot water and flowery soap was one of them. She made sure to properly close of the entrance before shedding the rest of her clothing and gliding into the water, tense muscles relaxing for the first time in a week.

For a few minutes she just laid there, enjoying the feeling of it against her skin. But she had never been one to stay still for long and soon she could not bear it any longer. She grabbed the soap and started methodically scrubbing herself down. Every part of her, from her toes to the tip of her nose was covered in either sweat, blood or dirt, sometimes a combination, either from the actual fighting or from the ways she made herself more intimidating to her enemies. It had been her mother who came up with the idea: Covering yourself in blood, bones and other unpleasant things, and using red paint to die your hair and paint your face, to make the, look as if you had dipped them in blood. A monstrous look, for sure, but an effective one. And Kebé had been taught to never be anything, but effective. She had finished cleaning most of her body, only scratching away at some dried blood under her fingernails when there was a commotion in front of the door, someone trying to step in and only belatedly noticing that she had tied the entrance shut.

The some cursing.

She felt a grin spreading over her face, almost involuntarily. The general had never been a patient woman.

She stepped out of her bath, drying herself down and wrapping herself in a towel, before she untied her tent, and stuck her head out with her hair still dripping wet.

„Is there a problem, General?“

„Yes there is.“, came the growling answer. „I was so sure that one of the noble men up on the hill castle was the ruler of the city somehow.“

„I take it neither of them were?“

„No.“General Isu sneered. „They told me apparently the town has a „mayor“. What sort of stupid nonsense is that?“

„Some sort of elected leader, I believe.“ Kebé replied in mock-seriousness, knowing well that the question had been rhetorical.

„Barbaric! Anyways, I will have to take some of the soldiers and ride back to the city to make them sign the peace treaty.“

„Of course, go ahead. Why don‘t you have Commander Akosua accompany you?“, she suggested. It was foolish to provoke her right hand, yet she could not help doing it.

„I would rather die than go somewhere alone with that little overdressed scoundrel.“, Isu replied, without missing a beat.

„You are being unfair. The commander is not only a talented strategist, but also one of our best archers.“

„I am aware. That is the only reason I have not murdered her yet.“ The general bowed slightly, though not as respectfully as would have been appropriate. „I guess I‘ll leave now, to let some townspeople know just how bad my mood is. Enjoy your bath, while I work.“

She turned on her heel and left, and when Kebé called a joking „I won‘t be able to, now that you‘ve ruined it for me.“ after her, she received only a rude hand gesture in response.

Cackling she returned into her tent.

Maybe she should delegate the peace negotiations to someone else in the future, since they seemed to stress Isu more that the actual battles.