I walked towards the village center. Elanthe had encouraged me to ride Buttercup, but the thought of bouncing on her back with my broken rib was more than I could face. Besides, after a day lying in bed, I needed to stretch my legs. I couldn't be all stiff and atrophied tomorrow, or the next day, whenever Vorghammul decided to show up.

  I happened by Ignatz's house just as he was coming out the front door. He winced, but having already made eye contact with me, couldn't politely retreat indoors. Instead, he nodded to me and waited until I reached his gate. "Good morning, Sir Chuck."

  I was actually surprised by his politeness.

  "Good morning to you, Councilor."

  He waved his hand in the air as if to dissipate my words. "None of that kind of formality with me, young man. I'm a simple farmer who raises cattle. That's all the respect I need."

  "Well then, Ignatz, you'd better drop the 'sir' for me as well. Chuck has suited me as a name since I was seven, and I still like to wear it simply. Like a favorite t-shirt that your girlfriend wants to throw away because it's so ratty."

  His laugh was genuine. "It's been a long time since I've had a girlfriend, but let me assure you, wives are no different. Chuck." His smile faded. "I suppose that you're here to gloat about Vladimir."

  "Gloat about Vladimir? I don't understand."

  "The papers one of your people burgled from his house? Had he not admitted to their being his, I'd have pegged it as a setup."

  "I don't follow. I've got too much paper at my cottage already. Why would I want more?"

  He stopped and looked at me, brow furrowed. "You really don't know, do you?"

  "Know what?"

  He studied my face, head cocked to the side, before continuing. "You don't know, do you?" He started walking again. "Someone broke into Vladimir's house and burgled some papers. It was a correspondence with a demon. He was bargaining for control of the village."

  I whistled a long, low note as I took in what that meant. While I was looking at Vorghammul, somebody else was trying to sneak in while I was distracted. The thought hadn't occurred to me, hadn't occurred to any of my demons, for that matter. The implications were mighty.

  "Are you coming, Chuck?"

  I realized with a start that I had frozen mid-step as I tried to wrap my head around what I'd just been told. With some effort, I managed to resume locomotion. "They were trying to come in both the front and back doors at the same time. It's so obvious. Get us looking in one direction and then hit us from the other. Damn them. They almost had us. We got lucky, Ignatz. We got lucky."

  "I hardly think burglary comes down to luck. I'm more curious to know who even knew that there were papers to bring us."

  "I don't know the people of this village well enough to answer that."

  "No, you don't. And that's part of the reason I didn't support your proposal, even after we booted Vladimir off the council. Oh yes, we met yesterday in an impromptu session to deal with the situation and re-voted. Your proposal stands at two-two, with Father Yaqub shifting from an abstention to a 'nay'. Now, why would you think he would vote against a paladin of the Light?"

  I chewed over the revised situation. Franz and Stefania for, Ignatz and Yaqub against. Still deadlocked. "Father Yaqub has never met a paladin of my ilk before, only ones that come through the traditional process. He doesn't understand where I stand in the nature of the universe. Truth be told, I'm not sure I do either. Right now, I just feel like a guy looking to secure some beef for what might be my crew's last meal together. Might as well make it as good as we can."

  "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier? I grow the best cattle in these parts and happen to have some on hand. I can get you what you need. You want one side or two?"

  I pulled my coin purse out and dumped what was left into my hand. Four coppers and a silver were all that fell out. "Whatever I can get for this that can feed five. Maybe some bones we can use to create a hearty soup."

  Ignatz looked at the coins and looked at me. He folded my hand over the coins and pushed it away. "I'll have something delivered to your cottage tonight. If what you say is true and you do go into battle tomorrow, I don't want you to go in hungry.

  * * *

  "Captain, I've calculated our odds. They're not favorable."

  "How 'not favorable'?"

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "I had to make a lot of estimates on force composition, you understand, but I'm confident that I'm in the right ballpark. Our odds of victory are approximately 0.3%."

  "So you're saying there's a chance!" Bless Calista. If I could stop lusting for her, I could really like her. She was always looking on the bright side.

  We had enjoyed the best meal we'd yet shared in the cottage that evening. Ignatz had sent over a generous roast and a basket full of root vegetables. A few hot peppers from an anonymous donor also mysteriously showed up and were used to add some much-needed spice. Given that the only seasoning we had before that was salt, it was one heck of an upgrade. I was a bit disturbed that someone had made it to our doorstep undetected, but not enough to refuse the gift. It turns out that Calista is an incredible cook—'a girl has to make sure she gets her macros’, she had said as she was pulling everything together.

  "And if we plan on falling back to the cottage if we get pushed back off the bridge?"

  Hey now, this is my house we're talking about.

  "I'm afraid that would not help. At best, the horde would bypass the cottage, so we'd live, but you’d fail and that would be, as they say, that. Were they to attack, Tengen can deny them entry, but they could destroy it with us inside. It is not a viable defensive position."

  "So we fight at the bridge and hope for a miracle."

  "Miracles are your department, not mine, and I distinctly hope that you do not get one because I don't trust the targeting to recognize that we're on your side, but essentially that's what you're going to need. Assuming we survive, I'll fill the after-action report. I've already prepared a preliminary incident report to be discovered with your body, should you fall, detailing the divided loyalties of the villagers.

  "You prepared a report assuming that I'll die?"

  "Proper documentation requires considering all contingencies, including catastrophic mission failure involving 100% casualties. You may go to your final rest easy, knowing that I've reported you as an exemplary commander who fought valiantly against overwhelming odds. It's quite touching, actually, if I do say so myself."

  "So you are assuming that I'm going to die?"

  "I'm assuming that you won't give up before you're killed."

  I didn't know how to take that. It felt like both praise and a death sentence.

  "I can understand Father Yaqub's hesitation to support me thanks to Ol' Smoky's brand on my soul. Ignatz is honest and forthright, and we have him to thank for our dinner tonight, but he doesn't understand what his resistance will cost. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do to get him on our side anymore, and he's the key to making this all go away without a fight. So a fight it is."

  * * *

  Vorghammul the Destroyer stood with arms crossed on the road overlooking the bridge into Thornwell. Dawn was still hours away, but he could already taste victory. The forest behind him rustled as his demons filtered through the trees, taking position.

  His sergeant, a scarred brute named Krazzakk, approached from the rear. "Commander. The first of your horde are starting to arrive. The rest should be here before dawn, as you commanded."

  Vorghammul grunted acknowledgment, eyes fixed on the bridge and the cottage beyond. "Good. When they arrive, spread them along the tree line. I want them out of sight until we move."

  "What about the bridge?"

  "There's only one way to defend this position." Vorghammul gestured at the narrow stone crossing. "They'll hold the bridge itself. Funnel us into a killing ground where our numbers don't matter. Force us to come at them in pairs or threes while they stand behind shields and try to cut us down."

  Krazzakk spat. "So we don't take the bridge?"

  "Of course, we take the bridge. What do you want to do, wade through running water? Idiot. But we send the useless demons first." Vorghammul cracked his knuckles. "Drag the gargoyle down by numbers and throw him into the stream. Once he's out of the way, we bull straight down the middle of the bridge at whoever is left. One paladin and his measly supporters can't hold us back. Once we're on their side of the river, it's all over. Numbers win."

  The lieutenant nodded, but Vorghammul's jaw tightened as another thought crossed his mind. A question that gnawed at him. Which gargoyle stood watch?

  He'd seen the stone sentinel at the toll station during his first visit, perfectly still on the south side of the bridge. A gargoyle meant problems. The damned things were nearly indestructible, strong enough to tear through armor, and worst of all, they could fly. A gargoyle could swoop down from above and decapitate three demons before they knew what hit them, immune to slings and arrows turned against it.

  He was lucky it was already on the ground, without a perch from which to launch, but that didn't necessarily make it as obvious a fight as he said it would be. Vorghammul prayed to whatever dark powers listened that it was some decrepit stone-wing too old to fight—useful only for vomiting water from rooftops. Normally, he would expect a newly minted captain to receive the worst possible underlings, but the contract devil and bureaucrat were fearsome, and he worried the gargoyle would be as well.

  "Pass the word," Vorghammul said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. "All the village men die. Every single one. Boys too. I want to hear the lamentations of their mothers as we cut them down. There is no better music than to hear souls wail."

  Krazzakk's grin split his face. "And the women?"

  "Enslaved. All of them. We'll drag them back in chains as proof of conquest, after we've had our way with them." Vorghammul's hand drifted to his axe. "But that imp and the contract devil—those two are mine personally. Nobody touches a wart on their skin. I want to deliver payback with my own hands." He owed them both for the three days of bureaucratic hell they'd put him through. "I think I'll cut off their fingers and thumbs so that they can't hold a quill any longer. That will teach them to stand against Vorghammul the Destroyer."

  "What about the paladin?"

  Vorghammul spat. "Paladin." The word dripped with contempt. "He's no paladin. He's Hell's pet, marked by the Demon King himself. He'll fold the moment real demons come for him." He turned to face Krazzakk fully. "But he's mine too. I'll split him from crown to crotch and hang one half of his corpse from each side of the bridge as a message."

  Krazzakk bowed and retreated into the forest to spread the orders.

  Vorghammul returned his attention to the bridge, running through the assault one more time. He considered sending a lone demon down to start a fight with the gargoyle to see what would happen, but decided against it. Nighttime was for assassins to operate, not war demons. Vorghammul would wait until dawn.