Dux had never seen the Tribunes more defeated in his entire life. He sat at the table, hand drumming across the wood as he looked them over with a curious frown. Civis had his arms crossed, scowling at the ground, lips pressed in tight. Regis looked like he'd been rolling in shit. Dark smears, of what Dux hoped was mud, were caked into his beard and hair, earthy aromas wafting off his body.

Libro on the other hand had wholly withdrawn from everyone. He stared down at the table, purple eyes hard and deep with thought. By now, Dux would have expected the boy to start jotting in his Archive, but not once had he unchained it from his side. Even Culter looked thoroughly whipped with bruises dotting his face and arms. All four looked as if they'd gone through quite a thrashing,

Magus sat in a daze close by, his bleary eyes staring off into space, red-rimmed and with dark bags beneath that rivaled Dux's own. A long day perhaps? No doubt after a very long night beforehand. He hadn't seen the magician since their last encounter in the Captain's tent, gallivanting off to do whatever it was magicians did in their spare time.

Only Nox appeared as his old self, eyes bright and curious, flicking his gaze this way and that as he observed the the cobbled mess that was Dux's Tribunes. If no one was going to talk first, he surmised, then perhaps he should be the one to do it. "What happened?"

Libro cringed and withdrew deeper into himself. Regis mumbled something unintelligible. Civis sniffed, but said nothing. Culter remained silent, which wasn't the least bit surprising.

"Someone give me a damn report," Dux demanded.

"The rebels repelled our assault against the fort," Civis said matter of factly.

"Of that, I can gather. You wouldn't look like shit if you'd won the damn thing. Give me the details."

"What is there to say? We tried Libro's plan, and it failed. Simple as that."

Dux gave an exhausted sigh and ran a hand over his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Would anyone else like to add their perspective?"

"They used our siege stones against us," Libro said. Magus tutted before slipping both his hands into his sleeves. 

Dux raised a curious brow. "Did they now?"

"I noticed their absence when we were ascending the hill. My guess is they were salvaging them at night while we were rotated patrols."

Regis slapped an irritated hand on the table. "Those rotten bastards!"

"Unlucky," Nox concluded.

"Yes, quite right, all of you," Dux said. "These rebels have proven themselves to be tenacious. I dare say the Vangen have finally met their match." He stared down at the charts and maps on the table, hoping perhaps that he had missed something that would give them the upper hand, but of course, there was nothing. The fort still stood. The caves leading under the hill were collapsed. Their ammunition for the trebuchets were running low. And only one day remained.

"Feck." The pain in his head grew worse. His temples throbbed. His heartbeat felt like a terrible pounding noise in his ears. He rose from the table, felt his knees pop, felt the decade-old knots in his back tighten up. "It seems we've run out of options."

Libro's face drained of color. "Captain, you can't mean..." that last of his words fell away as he started to tremble. The others must have seen it too. The desperation in Dux's eyes. The slow realization of what he was suggesting.

"We cannot risk such a venture," Civis hissed. "We still have the Black Ministry to deal with when we get back home!"

"What other options do we have then?" Dux asked. He looked over at each of this officers before settling on Regis. The man was glaring at him, wide-eyed and furious, but even he should have had the stones to agree. "Their defenses are in shambles now. One push. One good charge and we could topple the whole thing over."

"It was a mistake to suggest such a thing in the first place," Regis proclaimed. "I know that now. I cannot in good faith go through with it."

The lights dimmed all of a sudden. Lanterns flickered, casting shadows in the corners of the tent. They danced and twisted into shapes, becoming masks. The same one that still haunted Dux's dreams for two decades now. They watched in a hungry silence, their gaze almost piercing into his soul. Numbness crept through his body, daring to swallow him whole.

"One day." Dux fought to keep his resolve, but even that was starting to crumble. "We have only one day left. Our resources are exhausted. Our options are limited. Just one good charge, and we could break them."

"We have to keep our strength for Byzantia." Libro reminded him. "For the Black Ministers. Captain, this is a bad idea."

"Then what else is there?" Dux slammed his fists against the table. He squeezed his hands tightly until the knuckles began to pop. "What else is there?"

There was a solid thump as something heavy was placed on the table. Everyone turned to Magus. The old magician held a large, brass sphere in his hands,  its dull surface etched in oddly shaped runes.

"What is that thing?" Dux asked. He glared down at the object. Made his head itch just looking at it.

"An answer to our prayers, maybe," Magus said.

"What is it?" Dux repeated. The longer he stared at the object, the more a sense of dread crept into his guts. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up as a shiver ran through him, turning his skin into gooseflesh.

"It is," Magus paused to lick his withered lips. "A weapon of sorts."

Dux tore his eyes away from the sphere, the feeling in his gut slowly dissipating. "What does it do?"

"It collects magick."

"I don't see how that—,"

"And once it's broken," Magus interrupted. "It releases said magick. Rather violently, might I add. I found it while rooting through my trunk this morning."

"How long have you had that thing?" Libro asked. The boy couldn't help but stare at the sphere as well, watching it as a hare would watch the skies for a looming hawk. Indeed, there was something very strange about the weapon. Strange and terrible.

"Years, I suspect." Magus waved a flippant hand. "Decades even."

"all that magick in one small thing?" Civis wrinkled his nose and leaned back as if the strange object had an offensive odor to it.

"So, how do we use it?" Regis asked. Nox and Culter stared at the sphere in varying degrees of interest. The albino sat back in his chair, bored now that the prospect of bloody violence had passed. Nox, however, had eyes the size of full moons. He mouthed something in his Zulan tongue that Dux did not understand, but the sidelong glance Civis gave was more than enough to go on. Whatever this thing was, it was foul. Something that had no place on the battlefield, and here it was sitting in his lap.

"I suppose you could lob it at the Rebel fort. A good enough crack, and the whole thing should split right open," Magus said.

"Just lob it?" 

The magician nodded. "That's right. Have one of your men use the trebuchets if you want. I'm certain they've had decent practice given the shelling you gave the rebels yesterday."

"And what if it doesn't work?" Civis demanded. "What if your weapon proves to be a dud?"

"Well then." Magus smiled, one that held a particular sense of malice too it. "We'll just have to charge up that hill then. Now, won't we?"

Morning came to the sound of birdsong and an apricot sky. The spring wind felt warm this time ,aided by a clear sunrise that bathed the green hills in a dazzling display of colors, and yet a heavy dread permeated over the Vangen camp.

Dux rode ahead of the party with Regis and Libro beside him. They had the Vangen standard out, its magnificent four-armed cross billowing amidst a checkered field. Libro held the pole in one hand, his other clamped tightly to the reigns. For Regis, he held a simple white standard that bore no markings at all. A flag of peace. A chance to negotiate.

They stopped at the edge of the hillside, and the rebel leader rode down to meet them. He came with several others, chain mask pulled tight across his face, hiding his features beneath. It was not until he'd reached the bottom of the hill that he stopped and, with careful intention, peeled back the chain mail, securing it over the rim of his helmet.

Libro audibly gasped. Not surprising, Dux considered, given that one of the former heroes of the Empire sat on horseback before him. Captain Fortis, the former leader of the Vangen. The one Dux had replaced.

"What is the meaning of this Captain Dux? What trickery is this?" Fortis spoke in an even, methodical manner, every word chosen carefully. Dux could see the dark bags under his eyes, the many sleepless nights in his gaze. Fortis looked tired, just like him. 

"No trickery. Merely, a proposition," Dux responded back.

"Speak your piece then," Fortis said with a wave of his hand. "Although I can already guess what it could be. If it is for surrender, then unfortunately I must disappoint you."

Dux gave a weary sigh. "Sadly, it is exactly that. It is the same proposition I gave you in Macedonibus and in Austerland."

"And as I told you before, the answer is still no. I will not surrender to the likes of you, nor will I surrender to that festering Empress of yours."

"Traitor!" Libro yelled, his voice cracking. "You sully the Vangen name!"

"Quiet!" Dux snarled, snapping his gaze at the boy. The color drained from Libro's face and he snapped his mouth shut.

Fortis narrowed his eyes. "There is more going on then you will ever come to understand, boy." He turned his attention back to Dux. "And as for you old friend, you can toss that flag away. I will never surrender. Not until I see that bitch hanged for her crimes."

"Is that your answer?" Dux asked. His grip on the reins tightened. his growing dread from last night crept up into his spine. More than ever, he wished for Fortis to see reason, but the man had an iron in him that would not break. It was the same iron that kept the rebellion going for twenty years now. One that Dux had fruitlessly tried to silence.

Fortis steered his horse around. "It is. I will see you on the battlefield." He pulled his chain mask down and with a snap of the reins charged back up the hill.

Dux watched him go. "We shall see." He turned his horse around as well, heading back to camp with Libro and Regis in tow.

"Stubborn bastard," Regis muttered. They clattered down a narrow trail through the forest, passing rocky ledges and dipping crags, splashing through a burbling stream.

"Did you expect anything less?" Dux asked.

Regis shook his head. "No, but I still feel bad. Today's going to end bloody. I just know it."

Dux shrugged.  "Doesn't really matter anymore. He turned his back on the Empire, and now it's up to us to see him put down for good this time. Whether by iron or sorcery, Fortis and his rebellion ends today."

They rode past the treeline into camp. One of the larger trebuchets stood outside the perimeter, surrounded by a crowd of oggling guardsmen. Dux pulled in close and stepped off the saddle, boots squelching in the muck.

The trebuchet was still being primed and ready to fire. Several crew mates cranked the loading arm down until the sling was near enough to reach. In the distance, the hill loomed up over the horizon, the battered fort glaring down at them like some stubborn, broken beast. Dux knew Fortis was watching him, wondering what the Vangen had up there sleeve this time. Would he decide to run as he had before? Most likely not. He'd given Dux his word to expect him on the battlefield. Even if Fortis was a traitor, the man still had some semblance of honor.

"How goes it, magician?" Dux asked as he approached the trebuchet. Regis saddled up beside him while Libro stood close by, watching in wide-eyed wonder.

"Just about ready," Magus said, cradling a lump of purple cloth in his hands. No doubt the sphere lay within. Dux felt his dread creeping in again. With a final crank, the wheel locked into place. One of the guardsmen jabbed a thumb up.

"All right then," Dux clapped a hand on Regis's back. "It's your show now. Make it count."

"Thanks," Regis grumbled as he approached the magician. Magus peeled away the purple cloth, revealing the rune carved lump of brass. He placed the sphere delicately into Regis's hands.

"Don't drop it."

"Not fucking likely," Regis growled, holding the sphere as one would cradle a newborn child. He marched over to the trebuchet and, with a practiced hand, slipped the brass lump into the sling.

Everyone backed away slowly as if on instinct. Even Dux felt the need, watching on with bated breath. Regis turned to him for confirmation, and the Captain gave a single, curt nod.

"Ready the knock," he yelled. One of the guardsman raised a large, wooden hammer directly above the firing pin.

"Aim." A few final adjustments were made to the loading arm before the last of the crew scrambled back.

"Release!" The hammer dropped, knocking the firing pin out of the primer wheel. The counterweight tipped down, swept under the frame, launched the loading arm. At the highest point the sling detached and the sphere sailed into the air.

Dux watched as the orb disappeared into the distance. For a long, dreadful moment, nothing happened. Was it a dud? Had they missed? If they'd missed, if the Vangen had to charge the hill, then he would meet Fortis on the battlefield to finish the job, once and for all.

A great and terrible light burst over the hill, roaring with heat and sound and fury. In a flash, the rebel fort was swallowed whole. Dux covered his ears as a terrible howling wind tore down the Vangen encampment, pitching men off their feet, whipping horses into a violent frenzy. Darkness fled from the light's luster, stealing the sun's attention, washing the land pale. Men became shadows before the its brilliance. A corona of burning brightness screamed into the morning sky, searing Dux's eyes shut and scorching the hair on his beard.

And then it was over. The light faded. Silence returned.

Dux rubbed at his eyes, afraid his sight was gone for good. Through the dancing stars in his vision, he witnessed the consequences of his actions. The rebel fort was gone. The hill was gone. A good chunk of the land beneath the hill was gone, not destroyed, gone. As if Nido herself had struck the hill with her burning blade, leaving not but a crater of scorched, black earth.

For a long moment, no one said anything, too afraid to break the silence made by the explosion. Finally, painfully, Dux spoke through dry, cracked lips. "Everyone! Pack up your things. We're going home."