"Regido? Nessos shouted that too. Right after, his weapon changed, danger spiking like a storm front. What is that thing?" Medith's doubt sank like a stone in a well.
The women all shook their heads like reeds in wind. "We don't know the details. Her Majesty the Queen and the Elders Council are still studying it, like scholars sifting dust. This substance appears in no book or archive; even the seers are blind as night. We've been cut off for nearly forty-three years, like an island in fog. The changes out there may far exceed what we imagine, like mountains hiding beyond mist."
"An anti-magic substance... did this only show up recently?" Disbelief flared in Medith like a spark in dry straw. How could it be new? When she first met Melia, Melia already knew the Wind-Cleaving Arrow, a name like a gust through pine.
"No. What's recent is Regido. It's different from older anti-magic, like iron tempered into steel. It's an upgraded form of the original," Iling said, steady as a drawn bow. "Her Majesty is trying to contact allied nations for key intel, like falcons crossing borders. The incident is grave as thunderheads. Troops are already moving to sweep the Mountain Bandits across the eastern range, like brooms through dry leaves." Iling summed most of it up in a heartbeat, like a knife slicing clean.
"Regido, Nessos, the strategist... right, what about that little silver ball?" The memory flashed in Medith's mind like lightning. The blast pierced our barrier in an instant like an arrow through silk, yet it felt time-limited, not a full destroyer.
"We don't know yet. The Mountain Bandits called it a Silence Bomb, a specialty of Thanatos in the Western Kingdom." Phiby hopped onto Medith's pink bed like a sparrow on blossom, then nuzzled Medith's slender waist like a cat at dusk.
"Phiby..." Warmth spread in Medith's chest like sunlight on frost. She looked at the girl, small yet steadfast, like a sapling in wind. That body—barely one-fifty tall—had propped up the whole tide of battle like a bamboo pole holding a sail. If the strategist hadn't died, if he'd used that Silence Bomb to free Nessos, he would have bolted with two thousand Mountain Bandits like wolves down a slope. With Nessos's skill, he would have escaped like a shadow at noon. Then we'd have lost, utterly, left to wait for his next siege like thunder on the horizon, or abandon the city like a shell cast aside.
Both paths were dead ends, like a river splitting into sand. "I'm sorry, for making you shoulder this weight..." Medith stroked the girl's small head, guilt pooling like rain in a basin. Phiby lifted her face—porcelain like a doll—and looked at Medith. "No. Without your orders and your fire, I couldn't have carried out the plan. And this result was won by everyone fighting to the death, like torches burning to stubs."
All the women smiled like petals opening at dawn.
"Phiby, listen." Medith's tone tightened like a bowstring at dusk. "Your gift makes a ring of wind pressure, a storm-circle with massive area kill. But the flaw is stark as a crack in ice. If your arrow is intercepted midair, the magic bound to its shaft will detonate on its own, like a firework cut free. Against those nimble Mountain Bandits, interception comes easy like a hawk taking a sparrow. So you must wait for the right moment, like a fisherman watching a still lake.
"Their strategist is sly beyond measure, like a fox in snow. He's disguised as one of the bandits—maybe dog-head, maybe wolf-head—faces like masks at a carnival. He likely won't rush the front line, like a turtle in its shell. If he does, the plan passes to us, like a baton in a race. If not, you wait at the forest's edge, in shadowed brush like a panther crouched.
"Whatever happens, don't let anything sway you, like a rock under tide. Your only goal is to find the bandits’ strategist, then wait for a perfect moment to loose the key arrow, like a crescent cutting cloud. I can't tell you what perfect looks like; chances flare and vanish like fireflies. You must grasp it yourself.
"If you succeed, their ranks will fall into chaos of the heart, like ants scattered from their hill. I'll watch their side constantly, like an eagle on a thermal. Once I spot his death, I'll signal the whole field, like a bell across a valley. With enemy morale broken, we'll strike the breach like a hammer on clay. Don't worry, I can hold this pack of petty thieves like a dam holds rain.
"But remember. Whatever happens, finish the objective. Even if the city falls, even if blood runs like rivers and corpses lie like a forest, don't blink. Lock on to the target like iron to lodestone, until the task is done. Understand?"
"Y-yes!"
"I didn't expect you'd really pull it off." Lina's relief was soft as spring rain as she patted Phiby's head. Phiby, shy as a fawn, toppled into Lina's arms like a falling blossom.
"Thanks to the captain's command, we endured the roughest span of the siege like sailors in a black gale. Then the Royal Guard arrived in full, like iron flooding a gate. Nessos wavered, retreat stirring like smoke. Their support wobbled, the strategist had to step out and steady morale like wedges shoring a cracked wall. In that loosest heartbeat among the Mountain Bandits, you loosed a deadly arrow and perfected the kill, like a falcon stooping clean.
"You're a clever little fox." Rita kicked off her boots and dove onto the bed like a swallow, then gently pinched Phiby's cheek, soft as peach skin. The others saw and kicked off their boots too, piling around Phiby with seven hands and eight feet, "serving" her in a tangle like kittens in a basket.
"Ah—ah—nya—nya—" Phiby squealed, her little face pulled by a thousand hands, pain sparkling into tears like dew on leaves.
"Heh, heh..." Medith's laughter rose from the heart, warm as a brazier in winter, as she watched the cozy scene. She’d turned herself into a devil, she thought, and all she meant to protect was simply this—lamplight warmth like paper glowing.
"Ah! Look at the captain!" Milia pointed with a slender hand like a willow twig. They paused and turned to Medith. She was sitting in a duck pose on the bed, lower half nearly bare, only white lace panties like snow on silk. Her long, smooth, rosy legs gleamed in sunlight like polished jade. Her top was just a short white shirt, buttons undone, a wide stretch of beauty open like a spring field. Medith glanced down and yelped—"Ya!"—clutching her chest, tugging the sheet up like a curtain falling. "No wonder it's chilly—was this you again, Melia?!"
"It wasn't me. I didn't. Don't slander me." Melia shook her head wildly, denial firing in triple bursts like drumbeats.
"Wow... the captain's so cute..." Phiby blurted, words popping like bubbles. Medith's face flushed in a hot sweep like sunset. "You... you all teamed up to tease me?!"
Seeing the glint in their eyes like foxfire, Medith understood. "Strike first! Milia, pin Iling!" She lunged, grabbed Melia in one swoop, and pressed her to the bed like a hawk pinning prey. Milia flipped Iling with a neat hold, hand like a net. "Ah—Milia, what are you doing—" Iling yelped, panic fluttering like a sparrow. Rita suddenly pinned Lina as well, motion crashing like a wave.
"Lita! You..." Lina’s voice shook like a string. "Sorry, sis. I've been holding this in for a long time," Rita said, words grinning like moonlight.
"Fortune turns round, Melia. You had plenty of fun last time." Medith’s smile turned wicked like a fox baring teeth. "Relax. With more hands, the sheets get washed fast, like laundry in sun."
"Don’t... don’t... Captain, I was wrong, I’m sorry, I... beg... ah—" Melia’s voice broke like silk tearing.
...
Night fell like ink. Medith watched the women in their sleepwear curled together on the bed, a small heap of warmth like pups in a nest, and she smiled bright as a lantern. She stood and looked at the full moon, round as a polished mirror. Moonlight washed her face, making it glow pale and clear like water over porcelain. Staring at that moon, she recalled the scattered words she’d heard from Nessos in the wind, and a complex look rose in her eyes like clouds crossing a lake.
