"How is she?"

"If she was not a Lawbringer, I might have just taken the whole leg off."

"Tell me you didn't."

"No, but if it becomes infected I will."

Joyeuse stopped there, the weight of what had happened still lingering. Her constant headache remained a reminder of that, as did the now-bandaged bruise from the blow she had taken to her head. Noelle's assistant had done what was needed there, as the Warden had insisted the surgeon focus her efforts on the Lawbringer as she had the greater injury. There was no reason for her to be left to die, even if she had been defeated. And so Sara had been brought to the Blackstone lines to be treated.

Though Noelle had good reason to be leery of the orders given to her, as once the adrenaline began to ebb away Joy nearly blacked out. It was the blow to her helmet, not only had it severely damaged the headgear but it had left the Warden with a concussion. Once she recovered, and had the wound checked, she was able to get a handle on herself. Unfortunately, even if she had to avoid over-exerting herself, she still had work to do.

There was no question that the Blackstone Legion was the victor through trial by combat, but the question remained as to whether the terms would be honored. The prisoners had yet to be released in the hour since the duel ended, and in anticipation of the betrayal Alberic had ordered the catapult made ready and moved into position as a show of force while she was tended to.

"Do what you can for her, I need to-"

"Let Sir Alberic handle it."

"He can fight if it comes to that," Joy insisted as the nun held a hand out. "But I am going to hold Lady Ariane to her word."

Noelle matched her gaze, then relented. "Fine, but don't you dare throw yourself into another fight."

Joy considered saying that she could make no promises, but decided otherwise. "I'll try to avoid bloodshed," she answered instead, then made her way back outside.

Noelle had used one of the tavern tables to operate, bloody as that was and likely to result in the innkeeper needing to make a new one, but he could not really object to an effort to save his lord's sister-in-law. The lines were still holding as they had when the duel had ended, and as Joy walked back to them the standoff continued.

"Let them go, Lady Ariane! Your champion lost!"

Alberic was already preparing to fight as Joy saw all three parts of the army - the knights that Belial sent, Stone's Iron Legionnaires, and the smaller group of men that Vortiger had brought were all assembled in battle array against the forty or so longbowmen and men-at-arms on the walls.

"The duel was until one yielded!" Ariane shouted back. "I did not see Dame Sara yield!"

"She could be dying at this very instant!" Joy snapped as she made it closer. "It's over, Lady Ariane. Uphold your word, and let the prisoners go!"

"When you struck in a moment of mercy?"

Joy felt herself tense again. Her recollection of what had happened was spotty, especially from the blow to her head. All she really knew was that her opponent had said something after the blow to her head, but she had been too dazed to hear it. Had it been a demand of surrender, and her response had been to repay the offered mercy with bloodshed?

She did not have time for the thought to linger as Vortiger acted with what appeared to be his usual methodology.

"Fine, defy us!" Vortiger snarled as he strode forward, "When your walls fall, I will nail your children on their own-"

"No," Joy interrupted as she turned. "We are not murdering children."

"You are in no condition to challenge me, Warden."

"I am," Alberic growled as he hefted up his poleaxe and took a half-step behind her.

"And do you want those Cargan rats to get away with killing your-"

"HAH!" Ariane laughed as she saw them bicker. "You argue amongst yourselves! How much more proof do I need that your word was worth nothing!"

Joy turned, feeling her body heating up as she strode forward heedless of her lack of a helmet, her injury, or even the fact that her sword was missing its tip. She strode forward, well into the range of the longbowmen and without cover from them. She saw them all tensing at her approach, but for whatever reason the thought of how stupid this was did not enter her mind. No thoughts trying to warn her away from this suicidal madness.

"A knight almost died for you!" she declared as she was standing ten meters from the gate. "And if God feels it is her time, by tonight she will have died for you! Does that mean anything?!"

"With how you repaid her? She should have sent you to join my beloved-

"Is that it then?" Joy grabbed Dusk's hilt, pointless as it was, and drew the sword. "You want me dead because you lost love, fine! Go ahead, take your shot! Show everyone that Lady Ariane Cargan is an oathbreaker, a coward, a murderer! Do it, then see the Blackstone Legion tear down these walls and burn the keep to the ground! Go on, shoot me, and join the dead before the day is out!"

Silence deafened the environs of House Cargan's estate as both sides held their breath, waiting to see who would blink first. Wondering if more would fight and certainly die for courtly love cut short by war.

And as the silence lingered on, how ridiculous she looked dawned in Joy's mind. What did she think she was doing? Was she even thinking? The only thing to make it look stupider would be to slap an ass's ears and tail on her head. Still, she held her ground. Kept staring at the woman making a pointless scene when it was over and done with.

"Return my champion to me alive, and see to it that my family is spared, and you will have your terms!" Ariane demanded as she rested her hands against the battlements.

"Release the prisoners, Lady Ariane!" Joy warned. "You gave your word!"

"How can I know those terms were in good faith when you struck a merciful-"

"For God's sake enough! Uphold your promise, or I will tear down this keep and put your head on a pike!"

Ariane recoiled at the direct threat, but looked to the prisoners, then back. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" The Warden turned, taking a breath as a part of her was screaming against this escalation, but it was necessary now. "CATAPULT, stand ready!"

"Catapult ready!" came the answer from the engineer in charge as both sides snapped to attention - the Blackstone Legionnaires fell into shield walls, the men on the walls grabbed arrows and nocked their bows even if they did not raise them to draw.

"Stop!" Ariane insisted as the Warden turned back, "Stop! Stop! I will release the prisoners!"

Joy exhaled, smiling despite how close this had come to a bloodbath. "Good! Now lay down your arms!"

"Are the prisoners not enough for you?!"

"Do you want the legion to return and finish you later?"

The two locked gazes again, but Ariane cracked almost immediately. "Men, lay down your arms. I expect that we will be treated well, Warden!"

"They will be. Sir Alberic will handle the details."

With that, Joy turned away, walking towards the Blackstone line far slower than she had strode forward and not even bothering to put her sword away. She did not feel like she was going to collapse, but her mind was focused on one thing now: How utterly stupid that had been.

Sure, it was technically a parley. And sure, she was just reminding Lady Ariane of the terms. But daring her to have the longbowmen shoot, calling out her word, her honor, and so brazenly? Drawing her sword and holding it out like some Warborn looking for a pointless ticket to Valhalla? Ordering the catapult as she did, which could have caused the garrison to panic? And why wasn't she shaking the whole time, when she knew it would have killed her?

"Warden," she heard someone say as she made it back to the lines - Alberic. "That was… I'm not even sure what that was."

"Absurdly brave," offered the nearest other knight. Sybilla, staring even though the bevor on her armor had been raised expecting the fight.

"Was it?" Joy asked as she glanced at her, before looking down - shaking her head did not feel like a good idea. "Doesn't matter. Sir Alberic, see to the terms. I need to sit down."

He bowed his head, and what followed was what was expected. House Cargan's forces surrendered, swore to sit out the rest of the conflict, the prisoners were released, and the Blackstones prepared to move back to the siege at Stonerust Castle.

But even as she knew victory was hers, even as she saw the smiles on the former Iron Legionnaires' faces as their comrades were returned to them no worse for wear, even as Vortiger sulked off with his men to do God knows what, Joy felt empty. It wasn't like the aftermath of Harrowgate at all. Had it been just the duel, maybe it could have been - she was at least able to put on a smile for the released prisoners.

Her mind kept going back to the same thought: that outburst was not courage. It was an absence of fear. A blatant disregard for it in a moment of anger.

So, if courage was not the absence of fear, then what did her fear of facing a Lawbringer mean if she fought anyways?

XXXXXX

When they returned to the siege half a day later, Vortiger was still nowhere to be found. Still, just the sight of them coming back had sent news scurrying about the siege lines, and Apollyon was waiting for them at the bridge checkpoint of her camp. The newly made wooden gate was opened, and the Blackstone Legion's warmaster welcomed them, along with several others.

"Master," Joy said as she bowed her helmetless head, stopping her horse and preparing to dismount.

"Warden. I see you were successful," Apollyon answered, looking towards the contingent. Behind the legion's master stood both Cross and Rottdal, along with several lesser captains, though Stone was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

"I was," she answered as she dismounted, slowly, as one of the army pages hurried up to take the horse's reins, and grabbing the remains of her helmet from the saddle as she did so. "House Cargan, or at least its troops at its estate, are no longer part of this conflict and we rescued all three prisoners."

"Sir Alberic," Cross ordered as he looked over, "take them back to Stone's camp immediately. Don't keep them waiting."

"My lord," the junior Lawbringer said as he bowed his head.

"Captain, take the cavalry back to the ranks," Belial added, looking to the knight who had led the contingent of cavalry for the unit. As they moved on, Sybilla glanced at Joy and smiled, though that was all that could be done as Apollyon had more to say.

"I want to hear the details," Apollyon said as she took a step forward. "And discuss what happened."

Joy bowed her head again, and followed, holding her broken helmet in her right hand as they walked.

"So, was it the younger Dame Blaumann that was summoned to fight?"

"It was, master. That was why we had to camp outside the keep last night."

"I expected as much. A shame. She could have been a useful recruit, but such is life."

"When we left, she had been tended to," Joy answered, frowning as she wondered where this was going. "Sister Noelle's skills are impeccable, and apparently my sword breaking helped stop the bleeding."

"Oh?" Apollyon asked, glancing down at Dusk still in its sheath. "Your helmet was not the only thing damaged, then?"

"The sword finally had enough," Joy admitted, "or maybe it was the angle, but the tip broke off."

"And was stuck… where?"

Joy hesitated, given the proximity. "It was a stab into her inner thigh, about halfway to the knee."

A scoff preceded the answer. "How did you get an opportunity to strike there of all places?"

This time Joy's hesitation was much longer as the uncomfortable thoughts returned. Apollyon noticed, but said nothing until they were safely within the command tent. The two knights outside were different than the usual Black Priors - Apollyon had plenty to drag into guard duty, after all. Still, once they were inside, Joy knew there was no getting around it.

"I was wounded, a hit to the head that knocked me to the ground. The Lawbringer stood above me and said something, but…"

"But you struck instead," Apollyon remarked. "And you think you did something dishonorable."

"Lady Ariane almost backed out claiming such," the Warden admitted.

"And had you not struck, what would have happened?"

Joy frowned. "Master?"

"Answer the question."

"I… she probably would have repeated it, to make sure that I heard. Or maybe knock me to the ground and put a spike towards my throat. Make sure I was down, that I yielded or died."

Apollyon remained silent for a few more moments, leaning a hand against the main table in thought as she looked at the map.

"The terms were that if I lost, I would be a prisoner - and the same threat made about the other prisoners if we attacked…"

"And you do not want to be a hostage," Apollyon finally interrupted. "Not when you know who else is in this legion. Vortiger was not with you when you returned."

Joy felt her gut tightening, even though Vortiger had done that entirely on his own. "He said he came to make sure it was done right."

"And he would spend your life without need, a price you are unwilling to pay."

"No," she admitted.

"But you fought the Lawbringer anyways, knowing what might happen. Did you believe you could lose?"

"Yes, I knew full well what could have happened. Do you want me to admit that I was scared?"

"Were you?"

Two words, and Joyeuse knew that she was being called out. Exhaling, she told the truth. "Yes, I was afraid. But I made a promise."

"And you were willing to die trying," Apollyon pushed her hand from the table and turned. "But you fought fearfully. Struck fearfully."

Joy looked away as she considered it. Did that make her last attack one of fear, especially with what she thought she heard before that instinctive choice? Was it fear that drove her to do such an attack when she may have had mercy being offered to her?

"And you won," the warmaster continued as she dropped a hand around the younger dame's shoulder. "You triumphed, and took what you wanted from the coward hiding in her husband's keep, even with your fear."

But I wasn't at the end, she knew as she took as she looked at the gauntlet resting on her shoulder, but held her peace for now. "Maybe, master. But is that who I am?"

Apollyon shrugged, uncharacteristically at that as Joy felt herself tilting her head seeing Apollyon make such a silent admission.

What is she after? She keeps prodding at me, yet now she's saying nothing? The Warden had a broad understanding of Apollyon's ethos - she looked past things that just were, or tried to. She tried to find deeper reasoning. And she had a way of reading people, yet now her master was silent when she should have had an answer?

Silence grew, and so the younger knight broke it. "It doesn't matter, does it? As long as I serve the Blackstone Legion."

"Not to me, but this is not the time for such a conversation. You are fresh from victory and have yet to celebrate. Go, enjoy the praise you have won. Maybe replace that Daubeny relic you've been using."

Knowing a dismissal when it came, the young knight bowed her head. "Yes, master."

A half-hearted wave, and Joy turned and left the tent behind. As always, Apollyon left her with things to think about. This time, it was only to compound on what she was already thinking of from the duel earlier today.

XXXXX

Though she knew she needed to deal with her wargear at some point, Joy decided to hold off on it a little further. When she had returned to where Cross' contingent was camped, Sir Heinrich informed her that their commander was at Stone's camp, so Joy made her way over there. Her head was still hurting, even after drinking a whole waterskin while on the way, but she had resigned herself to a few miserable nights ahead.

The camp of the former Iron Legion troops was in much better spirits, though. The guard at the gate was smiling when she arrived, and once she made her way into the center she saw Stone, helmet nowhere in sight, opening a cask himself even as his quartermaster behind him looked like he was groaning.

"Come on you lot!" Stone laughed as he filled a mug, "hurry up, we're celebrating this properly!"

The Conqueror-turned-warlord handed the mug off to the next person and started filling a second as a line started forming. Joy waited back, watching as Cross was standing a few feet from Stone and folding his arms with a smile. She saw the rescued prisoners smiling as they caught up with their friends - Ashley hadn't even replaced her helmet. The Warden briefly considered just watching, then the black haired man standing next to his commander saw her.

"Hey, Commander! Might want to stop handing out drinks," Edward said as he grinned, nudging Stone with his elbow.

"Huh? What do you-" he stopped as he looked up and saw her. "Joy!"

Despite the lingering headache, she smiled. "Stone, starting without me?"

"Hah!" he laughed as he walked over, the legionnaires giving their commander space. "Come on, something I should've done after Harrowgate."

The drinks were still being passed around as he put a hand just behind her shoulder and led her through the crowd. As they passed, many of the legionnaires were speaking their mind.

"Thank you, you got Erik back!"

"Are you alright, Warden?"

"Bless you, Warden!"

"Damn straight she's the Sword of Harrowgate!"

"Thank you, just… thank you!"

Sir Lancel had once told her that if all she wanted was praise, then she had no business of being a Warden. The right thing was its own reward, no matter the personal cost. But even then, she had always felt the allure of the crowd's praise - that glow of being recognized. This time was no different as she waved back even though she had no chance of answering any of those speaking up, nor would she ever likely get to.

That did not linger in her mind as they reached the center, Stone stepping up onto a bench next to the cask and holding his arms up.

"Alright, settle down, settle down! Just get your drinks while I yap!"

A few chuckles - including an amused snort from Cross that Joy heard behind her - but Stone had the camp's attention.

"We've been through a lot, Ashfeld's Iron Legion. Forty years we've fought the latest wave of Vikings, kept everyone else's lands safe by taking the brunt of it. For that, how often were we just forgotten and left to ourselves?"

A disquiet rumbled through, but no one spoke up as Joy wondered where it was going.

"I know, pissed us all off. But we kept fighting - we had no choice…" he stopped, "No, we had a choice. We could've lied down, let the Warborn do whatever they wanted. Get it over with, right?"

At that point he reached a hand down, looking at Joy and she realized what it was. Taking his hand, he helped her up to the bench.

"We weren't the only ones with choices," he continued as he let go and looked her in the eye. "You could've gone anywhere else and lived comfortably. You came here. Cross told me you volunteered to head into Harrowgate. And now you've saved three of our own, three we thought we wouldn't see again."

Stone turned back to the gathered legionnaires, and Edward was on the uptake as he passed one of the mugs of ale up to him. "I know the drinks aren't all handed out yet, but you don't need a drink for a toast." He held his mug up high so everyone could see. "Here's to those that stood with us, here's to the Sword of Harrowgate!"

Those who had grabbed their drinks matched the gesture, echoing his toast as they drank. They didn't spend too long with it, just enough for the silence to be notable, but as it ended Stone lowered his mug, still smiling.

"Alright you lot, speech is over." With that he took a step forward and dropped down from the bench. "Unless you want to say anything, Joy?"

"Not with this headache," she joked as she gestured towards the bandage around her head. "I'm just glad everything worked out."

"No need to be humble, Dame!" Ashley called out, several of the legionnaires near her chuckling. Joy just smiled, gently bowed her head, then dropped down herself.

What followed was much like other celebrations of victories she had been in, celebrating something small in scale but a morale booster all the same. Even Cross was loosening up a little as he accepted the ale offered to him - Joy declined herself, though that was only because of Noelle's rather stern warnings. Besides, she didn't have much time as she got caught up with the well-wishers and the camaraderie.

"You did well."

Turning as the camp had started to disperse, she saw that it was Cross who had spoken up. "Thank you. I know you had your concerns, but…"

"You had a plan, you followed it through," the Lawbringer answered. "And you did it almost no bloodshed. We have grown too used to just killing our problems."

"Even so," she frowned as the crowd was starting to disperse to their duties, "one of your sisters in oath-"

"I know," Cross' interruption wiped whatever mirth had been on his face too, "and she was the one that warned us about Lord Easthart's plan." A sharp exhale, shaking his head. "We both know what honor demands, and she was oathbound by her sister's marriage. I pray that she recovers, but you no more attacked my order than my men attacked yours at Westhold."

"True," Joy admitted as she considered. Even with legions, the tangle of loyalties that had defined vassalage remained amongst the realms. Legions were supposed to supercede them, hence being able to absolve oaths of fealty not to another legion, but de jure and de facto were not always aligned.

And how in harmony are they, really? Joy suddenly wondered, frowning as the thought suddenly hit her. She was a Royal, but if even legions had a tangle of loyalties personal or otherwise, what did that mean for the treaty whose promise was her heritage?

"Still," she said to interrupt that thought, "I hope I never have to do that again."

"So do I." Inhaling, Cross looked towards the camp's exit and half smiled. "Now, I need to get back to the contingent. Yarwick and I are expanding our siegeworks to prevent another attack, but Heinrich's men are getting tired."

"Nothing but digging frozen ground the last few days."

"Yeah, it's not fun."

Both the Warden and Lawbringer turned as the Conqueror spoke up, Stone stepping forward. "I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?" he asked.

"It's fine," Joy immediately answered.

"I need to head back anyways. Stay safe, Commander, Warden."

"You too, Lord Cross," Stone answered as he dipped his head. The Lawbringer returned the gesture, then made his way out of the camp. A few moments later, Stone continued as he took a step closer. "So how are you feeling? You took a hard hit, but how bad was it?"

"It ruined my helmet," she admitted as she looked at him, "but other than that, it was nothing I'm not used to."

"Wish you didn't have to take that on our account. You've pulled our asses out of the fire how many times now?"

"And you've covered mine."

"Yeah, but you're the one jumping into insane shit just because it's the right thing to do," the Conqueror continued as he gestured towards where Edward and Alberic were talking about ten meters away. "Not to knock my guys down, they're all brave in their own way, but I'm not sure if any of us would've taken on Orobas."

"What?"

"I… ah…" Stone hesitated at how sharply she had questioned the compliment. "You probably haven't heard, have you?"

"Heard what?" Joy asked, narrowing her eyes as she wondered what he was getting at.

"Well, this is just rumors, but I first heard about what happened from a traveller. It's the way it's being talked about. Orobas needed a dozen knights to bully some peasants. You stood up to him, alone."

"Was it bravery, though?" she asked as she exhaled, the morning's question lingering in her mind.

"Wasn't it? You were the one who did it."

"But was it bravery, or just not understanding the consequences?" Joy looked towards some of the other former Iron Legionnaires. Men she had fought alongside and broke a generation of Nordic adventurers with. Warriors that had fought knowing full well what awaited them. "When did you first really understand your mortality?"

"Fighting this guy," Stone admitted as he pointed towards his head, only a moment later realizing that he wasn't wearing his helmet. "Well, uh, the Raider whose skull I took."

"He almost killed you?"

"Yeah, he killed ten men in as many seconds and almost got Commander Kline too." Exhaling slowly, almost certainly because the memories were bubbling up to the surface, the Conqueror paused, frowning as he looked at her. "Wait, this is about that new perspective you mentioned, isn't it?"

Joy hesitated - did she really want to admit that their first meeting had more to do with her own hubris, especially right after that speech? Fortunately or not, the Conqueror moved past that.

"Eh, you don't have to answer that. Point is, people look up to you. Honor called, and you fought. And alone against a dozen knights!"

Exhaling, she knew the implication. Her upbringing had hammered that into her head along with so much else. Of course, she had always thought of it in terms of having to overcome a great challenge, not being defeated. One more bit of childish nonsense to move past? She wondered briefly before putting the thought aside.

"Maybe," she said instead as she briefly glanced aside, "but I still feel like I didn't earn that praise."

"Okay, let's say that tomorrow, Ashley does the same thing. Would you say she earned the praise?"

"She almost had her head cut in half, she knows exactly what she's getting into!"

"And you've been cut, stabbed, and shot how many times?"

"But not enough to think I would die," she answered, the bugbear hanging over the entire issue. "I never felt that fear, not until Orobas stood over me, not until I couldn't…"

"Joy," Stone interrupted, grabbing a hand gently, "how many knights can go their whole lives without that close of a run-in with death? Especially Royals."

"Many," she admitted as she considered it.

"And if they still fight when their serfs are threatened, does that make them lesser men?"

"That's their duty, Stone," she said as she gently pulled her hand back and the Conqueror let go. "They benefit from the serf's labor because they in turn defend them."

"And it wasn't your duty to stand against Orobas. Or to face a Lawbringer for three legionnaires. Or to go into Harrowgate. Or to…"

"I'm a Warden, Stone. I am oathsworn to…"

"So?" he asked, folding his arms and tilting his head. "What does it matter?"

"What does it-" she stopped as she felt her hands clenched into fists, staring at him. "What does it matter?! You were born on some dirt farm with only the lowest of expectations. What do you know about the burdens of nobility, of having a thousand years of tradition on your shoulders?!"

Stone took a step back at the sudden outburst, holding his hands up. "I was just trying to say-"

"Say what? That I'm taking my station too seriously?"

"Yes?"

He's hesitating, she thought as she could feel how tightly she clenched her fists. Of course he is, he doesn't understand.

"Look, I'm just trying to point out that you're-"

"Just forget it, I need to get my gear fixed anyways," Joy answered, and far more sharply than she intended.

The Conqueror just stood there, frowning as if he was still trying to figure out what he had said wrong. A few onlookers had their eyes on the exchange, and in a few moments he shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, fair enough," he said as he glanced towards the gate. "I shouldn't have stepped on that anyways."

XXXXXX

The two did not say much more after that, and went their separate ways for the day. Stone said he needed to oversee some things, but part of Joy suspected he just wanted to back off. For her part, she made her way back to the camp and talked to Seneca, getting both a new helmet and an armory longsword to use until he could repair her gear properly.

The new longsword was nothing she was not used to - she had gone through a few swords on her way to Westhold just because of the sheer abuse she put them through in combat. If anything, Dusk had lasted far longer than it had any right to under the strain it had been subjected to during the campaign.

"Then again, it's not like Valentia bejeweled the blade itself," Seneca had remarked as he examined the damage that Dusk had taken, holding the sword so he could look down the blade from the hilt. "But this sword is too valuable for my patch job. Once we're back at Redflow my brother can properly fix it."

"Then I'll need a new sword in the meantime."

"Grab one of the spares," he instructed, jerking a thumb towards a rack of them as he had moved on to examining her helmet. "The helmet I can fix, though it'll be a while."

"I can undo the padding tonight, and give it to you in the morning."

"Much appreciated, Warden. In the meantime, let's get you a replacement…"

Her replacement helmet ended up being a smaller great helm, despite her hopes to avoid having to wear that kind of bucket. Unfortunately, of the spares that they had it was either that or open-faced bascinets with, at most, a nose guard and a maille aventail. The latter was serviceable, but she preferred having solid steel over her face rather than loose maille. Along with an armory longsword with a simple crossguard and a padded coif to go with the great helm, she had her temporary replacement gear.

Which left her with nothing else to do for the rest of the day as Cross gave her leave from helping man the perimeter, given her injuries. She spent the rest of the afternoon removing the padding in her helmet, a long and quite frankly dull process of undoing her own sewing, which she did outside the tent, occasionally bantering with Sir Heinrich or the other knights in the contingent as they waited. After dinner and giving the now-paddless helmet to Seneca (though he still would not get to it until tomorrow), she was able to retire into her own tent and brace herself for a very long night.

Unlike her vigil in Anastasis, it was broken with regularity by either Sister Noelle herself or one of her assistants making sure that the Warden did not fall asleep. Even with her own doubts as to whether exhausting herself further would help her heal, she put up with it. It did at least give her time to think, like deciding she owed Stone an apology for how she had snapped at him, but there was also much more as she was working on her embroidering during the long night.

After she had done the minor repairs her standards needed from the duel, she laid into what she had been planning on doing for a while. A table piece that she could lay on the desk back at Redflow and could actually take with her. A constant, if macabre, reminder for herself. So that was what she worked on throughout the night, stopping only for the regular interruptions.

Which, when one was preceded by far more armored footsteps, spoke that this was going to be more than just a quick check-in. Especially when it was Apollyon who opened the tent.

"Master," Joy started as she set down what she was working on, but before she could continue the legion's warlord waved her hand.

"Save the pleasantries," Apollyon dictated as she entered. "I think it is time I asked you again."

"Asked what?"

"Do you truly want this life, or was it another's decision?"

Joy frowned, setting down the embroidering as Apollyon stood by the exit, folding her arms. The tent was not particularly tall - just tall enough to stand in, but Apollyon's armored head ran against the linen cover. The flap was left open behind her, letting in more of the chill air, but Joy was already wearing her cloak from the cold anyways.

"I chose this life, but I needed to come to terms with all it entails."

"And yet you are afraid of what it comes with. Aren't you supposed to be the pinnacle of knighthood, unyielding in the face of certain death?"

Looking down at what she had been working on, Joy knew there was no getting around it. "Yes. But you know the Warborn, don't you? More than just fighting them. What does it say about the Warborn that they are fearless because death in battle guarantees eternal bliss?"

"What does it say about the priests who tell us to trust God's omnibenevolence even as we suffer greatly in life?

Joy scoffed despite herself - Apollyon's constant philosophical ripostes without delivering an answer. "That we trust that whatever our fate is, it was not by malice we find ourselves judged. That no matter how we die, we can trust to be judged fairly to our deeds."

"Then what do you think Valhalla means for the Warborn?" The warmaster walked towards the cot, sitting herself down on it.

"That they don't want to fear dying," the Warden answered as she glanced down at what she was working on. "To think that their heroes lived with honor and died in glory. That their history of senseless violence is to be celebrated for its own sake."

"And yet they will say that it is family and clan that matters more, even when they created a whole order of warrior women just to save their friends who do not die in battle," Apollyon leaned forward, holding her hands above her feet, looking towards the table. "So what are you working on, young knight?"

"Decoration, and a reminder."

"Ah, memento mori. A lesson of many sermons, yet rarely confronted properly. Still, what does a sewn image of a corpse in the grave remind you of?"

"When placed behind the image of a monumental brass?" Joy asked, picking up what she was working on and looking down at it. At the moment it was still only a partial job of the inner layer, but she could envision how it would be at the end. The outer layer would be that image that still stuck in her mind from her nightmare weeks ago, the inside the decayed truth. The contrast between ideal and reality.

"An image several tombs already invoke. Still, this is about moving past what happened…" Apollyon trailed off for a moment, tilting her head. "Or being unable to?"

"Should I forget that lesson?"

"No. The question is how much does it rule you?"

"Not as much as I feared," she admitted as she considered the previous day. "But am I just falling back on old habits?"

"Are you saying you should have held your tongue when Vortiger spoke?"

"No, but…"

"Anything said before 'but' is usually bullshit."

A brief moment as she blinked from the bluntness of the statement, and the young Warden continued. "I was aware of the danger, I went forward anyway."

"And?"

"And I don't want to be brave by ignorance," she finally admitted, looking down at the embroidery. "If I am going to die with a blade stuck in my chest, I want to charge knowing what it means. A choice, not an occupational hazard."

"You chose to become a warrior, Joyeuse. You are not some levy dragged to arms."

"But what if I was, what would it change?" the Warden asked as the question raised another. "What if I was just some farmgirl who was conscripted into the legion? Terrified, but fighting on."

Apollyon snorted. "That is not bravery. That is being more afraid of your master executing you. Chance of death against the certainty of death."

"You could say the same about running away, but they chose to fight instead."

"So what, bravery is being a little lamb bowing your head as you are lead to slaughter? Why is bravery considered a virtue again?"

"If bravery is being terrified but fighting on, then of course it is virtuous. Yes, ignorance can achieve the same effect, but when you learn the difference…" Joy leaned back as words failed her, and not because she felt like she lost. It was that moment that between all the day's events and not being able to get to sleep was able to poke its head up.

That was what I was missing, she realized as she felt herself smiling.

"Then let's go back to your first question, before you started spouting stupid nonsense about what if you were some farmgirl," Apollyon said, snapping the Warden out of her realization as she realized she had trailed off. "Was what you did at Harrowgate brave, was fighting Orobas brave, if you believe it was done by ignorance?"

Joy shrugged, stifling a yawn before it could show as she blinked. "It was still brave, just for the wrong reasons. And no matter my reason, it will be seen as brave by others."

"Until someone with a quill makes you a fool with one stroke."

"Master?"

"Do you really think that society cares about your virtues, about whether your deeds were by bravery or foolishness?" Apollyon shook her head as she rose. "That isn't how the world works. Admissions of your feelings fall on deaf ears. All it will take is the stroke of a quill, and your story will serve whoever writes it. They won't care for why you do what you do."

"I care."

A moment's pause as Apollyon heard the two word rebuttal, then her answer. "Then that is all that matters. Society will claim what it will of your deeds and reasons. Society is full of liars. As long as you truly believe in your own choices," Apollyon put a hand on the younger dame's shoulder, "then it will not matter who tries to claim you, little wolf."

Joy was not sure what to say, nor did she have a chance to ask further as Apollyon in her usual abruptness let go, turned, and walked out of the tent, leaving the young Warden to wonder if she had just managed to impress Apollyon. A wonder that was soon buried in the question of how Apollyon showed up now of all times and a bunch of other details that, in her growing exhaustion, Joy was not in the mood to seriously consider.

XXXXX

Whether she impressed her master or not had to wait, as did the why of it all. As it had happened, Apollyon had visited just before the crack of dawn (which certainly explained why she was awake for such a visit), but the morning came with little exciting happening. In the afternoon, however, Vortiger and his men returned from their 'patrol'. The ongoing rumor was that his men had raided one of the Ascendant Legion's vassal estates. Rumors may have been rumors, but Cross sent Rufus and his rangers to investigate.

Not too long after they had left, Apollyon called a meeting of the commanders and captains. As such, Joy was in attendance with Cross, waiting behind him as she noticed Vortiger was conspicuously absent. Once Stone and Edward arrived, the last two that Apollyon wanted present, she explained her plan to take the castle and end the siege.

As it turned out, the past days she had Mercy probing the defenses of the castle, looking for a way in. She had found one, and even better the opportunity to get a half-dozen or so knights inside the castle. Vortiger and a group of his Black Priors would have that task, and once they opened the gate the Blackstone Legion would storm the castle and secure the gatehouse and engine towers to ensure a foothold.

"That task will go to you, Belial," Apollyon had dictated. "Lead the cavalry in first to make sure it's taken. Holden's men will ensure it stays that way."

"Thank you, master, for this honor," Lord Rottdal bowed his head in turn.

Cross took it well, especially when Apollyon revealed that she wanted him with her for when she joined the attack. The rest of the meeting fell down to minutiae, orders to let the men rest for what remained of the day rather than continuing with soon to be pointless labor, and a dismissal once all was in order for the attack.

The Warden took her chance to deal with a matter that had been left idle for too long. "Stone, do you have a minute?"

"Uh, yeah, though I need to get back to my camp."

"It won't take long," she said, glancing towards Cross briefly only for him to give her a quick nod, especially as Rottdal also wanted to talk to him.

"Is this about yesterday?" Stone asked as they walked, Edward glancing between them as if weighing whether to try and excuse himself or not.

"It is, I wanted to apologize for snapping at you."

"Don't worry about it," Stone waved his hand. "I'm the peasant that got too big for his britches, I don't have all that conduct stuff."

Alright, enough with the fake humility, Joy decided as she reached out. "You're not just some peasant anymore, Stone. You're so much more now."

Despite a part of her wondering if she was just pushing the same issue as before, the Conqueror managed a faint smile. "Thanks, Joy. Anyways, good luck tonight."

"You too."

"Ah, I'm not going to need it," he waved it off with a faint smile before they went their separate ways for the rest of the day.

And he was right, as the former Iron Legion troops were to be left to guard the siege line that night. Someone had to, after all, especially in the event that the attack failed. Then again if it did they would have to retreat, wouldn't they?

Somehow, she suspected that Apollyon was not one to retreat at this stage.

XXXXX

"Master, are you sure the gate will open?"

"So doubtful, Holden," Apollyon chuckled as he rested a hand on the pommel of her sword. "Mercy has dealt with better."

"And used humility to brag about it," the Lawbringer growled before he shook his head.

I suppose I can't say anything here, Joy decided as she glanced between them. Still, she hated the wait, even if that was all they could do. Wait and hope that Mercy accomplished her task of opening the gates. If she couldn't? A shiver ran through Joy's body as the wind briefly picked up. Freezing seemed to be an oddly appropriate punishment if this failed.

The moment of truth came as she heard the sounds of combat in Stonerust Castle. Someone shouting, the distant ringing of steel on steel, and not even a minute later a rumble as the lock on the drawbridge's chains were broken.

"Make ready," Apollyon ordered as she turned to Lord Rottdal. "Once inside, take what you can and relieve our knights. This is your moment for glory, Belial: do not waste it."

"Master," the warlord said as he bowed his head, turning to his troops and signaling for them to move forward. The drawbridge fell, and as it did an alarm went up as bells rang from the environs of Stonerust Castle. Now it was a contest between how fast the majority of the garrison could rouse themselves and the Blackstone Legion being able to storm inside.

Belial and his cavalry were already charging ahead, followed by several groups of knights and legionnaires on foot. They were the vanguard that night, and much of the combat would be theirs. Belial was at the front, accompanied by his own favored knights, and soon disappeared into the dark as they charged into the fort.

"Infantry!" Apollyon shouted, raising an arm to signal them, "Forward!"

The rest of the army assigned to the attack marched forward at pace. It was not a jog, but it was not a slow march either. They would enter the castle fresh and ready to fight, reliving the vanguard as they continued to fight what opposition they encountered and would then be the iron fist shoved exactly where it needed to be.

And for her part, Joy was at her master's side, Cross opposite as the castle approached and its battlements loomed with the sounds of men fighting.

"Not as much resistance as I expected," the Lawbringer briefly remarked. "It sounds like Karl has it in hand."

"We'll see," Apollyon shrugged as they moved forward. "Perhaps Easthart was wise enough to have a fallback prepared."

Cross exhaled. "Then I hope we do not need mantlets for the ram crew."

The legion's leader looked back to the men who were carrying the simple wheeled ram they had prepared for the inside. "Perhaps. Or perhaps we will be dealing with a wolf instead."

What is Apollyon looking for in a rebel? The Warden briefly wondered, and the Lawbringer seemed likewise uncertain, but she put that aside despite the lingering headache. An indication that she probably should have been left to support Stone, but her master wanted her to witness this.

Passing through the drawbridge, the courtyard of the castle was lit by a fire in the smithy that the owner and his apprentices were desperately trying to put out as a few mounted Blackstones watched on, others taking custody of wounded Ascendant Legionnaires or House Easthart's vassal men-at-arms, and a number of fresh corpses, though no more than maybe fifty and almost all of them were enemy. A relatively typical storming, all things considered: and by the looks of it, not much resistance had been put up.

Good, she thought with a smile despite the sight. That will make it easier to minimize bloodshed.

Then she saw a sight that caused her to lose that hope: Vortiger, not wearing his usual colors even as he still had his blackened armor, but wearing a green and red surcoat of a different heraldry. From one of House Easthart's lesser vassals. And while Joy did not see any of the other Black Priors, she guessed they were in similar colors. They had entered by deception to open the gates.

Mercy was there as well, though it took the Warden a moment to recognize her as she had been wearing a cloak of similar colors even as she still had her normal helmet. Both were talking to Lord Rottdal as the advance group was now setting up a perimeter against the main building of the castle, penning the defenders who had fallen back to it as a rally point.

And it was a prepared rally point as the courtyard between them and the double doors to final victory had been lit by several smaller haybales set up strategically to provide light, recently lit as the fires were still growing. Anyone who approached would be seen. A few crossbowmen were shooting towards them from balcony vantage points that in peace might have been used by the ruling family to look over the castle's courtyard. The bolts were scattered, likely shooting at will, and most hit the shields of the legionnaires forming the perimeter.

"Belial, how did it go?" Apollyon demanded as she approached.

"We caught them asleep, master," the envious warlord said as he bowed his head from his steed. "Most of the garrison were still waking up, and many fell back to the main hall. We are still securing much of the castle, but we will be able to hold them inside."

"Good." Apollyon turned her head as a legionnaire screamed out from a bolt hitting her foot. "Holden, send your men to find something suitable for barricades."

The Lawbringer bowed his head, and turned about to it. Joy was about to follow, but Apollyon as she often did had other ideas.

"Not you, Warden. I want you to see this."

"Yes, master," she answered without much resignation other than a brief look to her direct commander, who shrugged and carried out his orders. A few Blackstone crossbowmen had taken up their own positions, firing bolts back towards the balconies. It was a skirmish phase, and one that Apollyon let play out for a minute or so as they stood together and watched.

"So, what do you think?"

"Master?" Joy asked, frowning.

"I was talking to Mercy."

Joy simply held her peace as the Peacekeeper took a step closer before answering.

"They are waiting for the final push," Mercy answered, leaving Joy feeling another kind of chill at how soft-spoken the assassin remained. "They expected to be chased in, yet now they hesitate."

"Good." Apollyon raised her voice slightly. "Crossbowmen, stand down. Withdraw the perimeter five paces."

"Master?" Vortiger asked from a few feet away, turning and staring at her through his helmet.

"Withdraw the perimeter five paces. This has played out enough." Apollyon did not wait for the order to be obeyed, but stepped forward. Joy followed, even as she wanted to keep her distance given the crossbowmen. Dying was bad enough, but if she was going to she would rather it be fighting than a stray crossbow bolt to the head.

"Easthart! Come out, come out and talk!" Apollyon's demand rang out as she finally raised her voice. "Come out, Easthart! Come out and parley like a highborn!"

Joy frowned as she watched the scene unfold before her. Unlike with Cross' attack on Westhold, the battle did not immediately stop, though the defenders soon caught on. Not that it stopped a bolt from flying past Apollyon, but the warlord ignored it as if she knew it would miss. Or was just that confident in her armor. Or doesn't care? The Warden wondered as the pre-dawn argument rose up in her mind.

The castle fell to a disquiet, but soon enough the fighting ended. Cross and some men returned with tables to overturn into barricades, and Easthart made his way towards one of the balconies.

"It seems you have me at a disadvantage, Apollyon!" Easthart shot back as he put his hands on the balcony he was at. He was kitted for battle in full armor, though for all she knew he had just armed himself. "So why do you wait? You have a ram. Speed would be to your advantage."

"Because my offer stands, Easthart. All you have to do is pick your champion."

So, it wasn't just Lord Cross wanting to stop the bloodshed? Joy blinked, looking at Apollyon. Ever since they had met in person, a part of her had wondered if the Lawbringer she served directly was atypical of the legion's leadership. That had only grown meeting the other warlords given their quirks. Yet here Apollyon was, offering Trial by Combat when she had no reason to.

Easthart's silence was telling, though in the dark the Warden could not see him clearly.

"You seem intent on resolving it this way, even when you do not need to," Easthart finally began. "What game are you playing, Apollyon? I can recognize when I have been outplayed, no matter how deceitful it was."

"If you want to surrender, then do so. Otherwise, decide how we will fight."

Another pause, and Joy was just able to make out that he was looking around… or at her, maybe? Wait, Apollyon said he could pick his champion...

"You brought the Sword of Harrowgate?" Easthart asked, tilting his head. "She was wounded fighting the younger Dame Blaumann."

"You want to fight her?"

"Master, is this wise?" Joy asked before she could stop herself. Fortunately, she had said it quietly enough that no one past the two would hear. That made it a little better as Apollyon turned her head, so the Warden quickly cleared her throat. "If I must, I will, but…"

"Don't bother," her master interrupted and looked back towards Easthart, raising her voice again. "So will you fight her, or another?"

"I know of her injuries," Easthart answered. "But she is still a Warden, no doubt able to fight even more grievously wounded. But if I am picking a foe for someone I could beat, what about one of your legionnaires? Maybe even one of those that my vassal captured, on my orders, before their rescue?"

No, no that bastard- Joy was about to speak up, but held her tongue. Surely her master would not accept such terms?

"Is that so?" Apollyon asked as she folded her arms. "You would fight a common footman?"

"You said I could pick my opponent, did you not?"

Apollyon took a half step back, "Yes. I did." Then her gaze fell on Joy.

This is a test, Joy suddenly realized as she inhaled, though she kept her voice low. "Master, let me fight him. I have a chance…"

"I know, be silent." The legion's master did not even turn her head. "I want to see this man's nature."

Joy wanted to say that it was already shown, but just bowed her head again. Maybe she could switch armor with whichever legionnaire was forced to fight? Deceitful, but while most legionnaires of common stock were able to stand a chance against a knight they were still peasants who did not have the noble upbringing that would prepare them for war-

"Very well then," Easthart decided at last as he undid his gauntlet and held it aloft. "Consider the gauntlet thrown down, Apollyon. I accept this Trial by Combat, and will fight you personally."

"Wait, what?" Joyeuse blinked, staring as Apollyon just laughed.

XXXXXX

Word of what was about to happen spread quickly, everyone muttering to themselves wondering what was going on. The perimeter ended up moving a bit closer, past the hay bales, though only so that the Blackstone Legion could more easily watch the iminent duel and see their leader fight this rebel lord.

"I should have seen this coming," Cross admitted as he and his second watched as Apollyon watched her opponent step out.

"That makes two of us," Joyeuse answered as she was still trying to figure out exactly what was at play here. Why did Apollyon take it so far rather than dismissing him as a sheep wanting to pick an easy way out? Why did Easthart decide to instead pick what very well may have been the most challenging foe? Or worse, pick a fight where victory might instead cause the legion to disintegrate into an angry rabble depending on how unified he believed they were.

Still, none of it would matter very soon as Easthart, head now protected by a barbute helmet, drew his longsword and removed his belt to toss the scabbard aside, including his dagger to boot.

Apollyon had drawn her own sword, and left her cloak on in the chill winter air as she faced her opponent. "Before we begin, I have one question for you. Why?"

Easthart shrugged his shoulders. "There is no honor in picking a fight with a common peasant."

A scoff came from the legion's warmaster, and Joy noticed Cross shake his head briefly. Was there something more here?

"So you chose the strongest foe you could have to fight," Apollyon continued as she saluted with her longsword. "Very well then, Lord Easthart. Fight for your holdings!"

The duel began, Apollyon steadily moving towards Easthart before he struck forward. Side-stepping the swing, Apollyon struck back with the flat of her crossguard, knocking him to the side. He recovered quickly, running it out further so they would be back to neutral footing before he came again. This time he was more cautious, bringing himself closer with footwork rather than a quick strike forward, and engaged Apollyon directly.

A short series of feints and parries ensued as both combatants tested each other's reflexes. Had one failed it would have been a hit, though with their armor none of the strikes would have been instantly fatal. Yet something seemed off about how Apollyon was fighting. It took Joy until the end of the exchange to realize it, but as the two combatants pushed off to recover it was clear: Apollyon was holding back!

"You have some skill with the blade," the Blackstone Legion's master started. "You would have easily defeated an Iron Legionnaire."

The Ascendant Legion's master scoffed back. "This would be a poor trial if I chose a weak opponent."

"Is that why you are fighting me, Easthart? Because your pride cannot accept taking the easy out?"

"Enough words!" he shot back, "We have a battle to wage!"

"As you wish." This time Apollyon attacked, and it was immediately apparent just how outmatched Easthart was.

Apollyon's attack opened with a powerful strike forward, a thrust that easily could have penetrated straight through his armor with how strong the warmaster was. He managed to get away from it in time, but it was so narrow that he did not have the chance to try and punish her during the recovery. And as Apollyon turned, she struck quick with near-lightning speed, left and right in the same swing. He managed to stop one side, but the second stroke managed to hit him. Weakened, sure, and his armor caught it, but it left him vulnerable to a third attack.

It would have been a powerful downward strike, but Apollyon instead struck him with the pommel of her longsword, knocking him backwards before she followed it with a side strike. He narrowly got the blade in the way in time, but he was pushed back by the strength of the blow. Apollyon followed up with a cut across his back, one stopped by armor but nonetheless an injury.

At this point, Easthart ran with the injury to try and get some space, turning around and getting back into his guard as Apollyon stopped her advance.

"So, do you still believe victory is possible?" the warmaster asked.

Easthart simply came again, and while Apollyon seemed to fall for a feint, she recovered quickly enough that it wouldn't matter if she had or not. Easthart was not parried, but the blow was still deflected well enough for her to shove him aside again. Yet rather than try to capitalize on it, Apollyon let him regain his footing again.

After a third such instance, Joy decided that for whatever reason Apollyon was toying with him, rather than just holding back to probe his defense before putting everything into victory. Easthart himself seemed to realize it as he was caught, thrown aside, and allowed to push himself back to his feet yet again. He still held his guard, if less steady than when he had started, but he said what many were thinking.

"Are you toying with me, woman?" he demanded. "Am I a mouse for you to play with, or do you have some other game?"

"Tired already?" Apollyon asked, tilting her head as she held her position.

His answer came almost as a snarl. "Don't insult me, how many opportunities have you passed up?"

The warmaster scoffed. "Eager to die, then?"

A few moments pause, and then Joyeuse felt her jaw dropping as Easthart tossed his sword to the side and held his hands out. Little emotion other than a steely gaze towards the woman who had bested him.

"Go on, then, if this is what you want."

Apollyon tilted her head, then launched forward suddenly enough that she almost didn't see the flash of the torches reflecting off of her sword. A blade being brought about two-handed to shove into his stomach.

Gasps shot through the crowd, a woman standing among the Ascendant Legion shouting "Tom!", and several men had their weapons drawn again ready to act. Waiting for the body to hit the cobbled ground and for blood to mix with the layers of winter frost.

But no red stains painted the cobbles. No mass of flesh, padding, and metal hit the ground in a lifeless lump. Not even as more moments passed in tense silence.

Though it was hard to see, Joy suspected that Apollyon had deliberately missed again, but had been accurate enough to make it look real until her opponent was not stabbed. She only watched as the two spoke, quietly, whispered words that she did not hear.

Then the Blackstone Legion's master took a step back, raising her voice enough to be heard. "Do we have terms, Lord Easthart?"

"We do."

He knelt, waiting as Apollyon picked up his sword as more murmurs ran through the crowd. Joy could only hear those nearest to her as she was unsure herself as to what was going on. Was he kneeling in fealty?

"But, we assaulted the castle!" a legionnaire muttered as she held her crossbow.

A low growl from Vortiger, disdain obvious.

"Another one?"

"Well, he kept fighting even though he was outmatched…"

"Another passes the rules of selection," Cross muttered.

"My lord?" Joy asked, looking towards him.

"This is rather familiar, isn't it?" he remarked, nodding towards the scene before them as Apollyon placed Easthart's sword on one of his shoulders.

Yes, it is, she realized as she tightened her hand around the armory longsword she was using for now, listening as Apollyon spoke familiar yet different words.

"For valor in battle, for defiance in the face of the enemy, I, Apollyon, raise you. Stand, Thomas Easthart, Knight of the Blackstone Legion."

She then offered his sword back to him, and Easthart accepted his weapon back from his new liege-lady.

"The hospitality of Stonerust Castle is yours, master."

"Good." Apollyon then turned away from him, towards her men as some were still whispering confusion, but others seemed to have processed what had happened and accepted it. She walked back towards her commanders, looking at them in turn. It would be Vortiger that spoke up first.

"A longer lesson was needed."

"Perhaps," she answered as she turned and looked towards the Warden in the entourage. "But the lesson was not just for him."

"What do you mean, master?" she asked, frowning.

"Was he brave or foolish, challenging me rather than another?"

"Brave, but would you really have let him fight a common legionnaire instead?"

"Do you think my word means nothing?

That was a trap she had walked right into, and there really was no good answer without trying to qualify it too much to do on the spot.

Fortunately, Cross cut in before her lack of an answer was obvious. "Master, this is a winter night, and most of us have been standing for hours."

"Of course, Holden. You and Belial will quarter the men we have here. Vortiger, go tell Stone that in the morning we will move the rest of our men inside to rest before returning home. The castle is to be left untouched. Anyone who defies me in this will suffer."

The Blackstones dispersed that cold winter night, the warmth of adrenaline quickly leaving as they were eager to get out of the cold. The potential of a proper bed was quite tempting too, though even in her shock Joy knew that it was unlikely to be anymore than just sleeping inside a real structure rather than a dug-out in the field or thick tents. This castle did not have room for another thousand guests, after all, even if the Ascendant forces dispersed home themselves the next morning.

But rather than continue the conversation, Apollyon told the young Warden to attend to her commander and assist him. More would come in time, Joyeuse was certain of that.

What she was not certain of was what Apollyon's plan had been - if there even was a plan.

XXXXXX

End Chapter

Author's Notes:

- In some ways, the Ascendant Legion was more of a backdrop for other items, but I did want to give Apollyon's often odd-seeming philosophy a chance to shine through. And this arc was starting to drag on a bit too much, even if it was good material.

- Speaking of that, originally I had planned on Joy being part of the team to break in and open the gate, with an idea of maybe Vortiger abandoning her when the alarm got raised to finish the mission. Or Mercy doing it on Apollyon's orders as a test to see how she'd act without hope. However, I ultimately dropped that since what I wanted out of that was done with the duel and aftermath, so I glossed over the break-in. Some things are scarier without detail.

- Also, something I meant to get in an author's note previously: if you leave a guest review, I can't reply to it, or if you disabled the ability to receive PMs. If you intend to ask questions in a PM, please keep this in mind - it happened with Holmgang and I kept forgetting to make a note of that.

- And to that, thank you to those who have kept with the story and left feedback - MightyMilkDuds, luvmesumguns (the above is a nudge to you), Jack54311, Golden Sheath, and SCIPION. Vt - it's always appreciated.