Morana was sitting in her chair in the council room, eyes on the commander. He had called them all here and was now standing at the back of the room, to the left of the maps. His brows were furrowed and his eyes swept over all of them, as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was he was looking for, the sharp look of displeasure on his face indicated that he did not find it.

They had been sitting there for at least five minutes before Rolan said, "Sir, is there a particular reason why you called us?"

The commander's eyes settled on him, and Morana was impressed by the fact that Rolan didn't do so much as blink. "Yes," he said finally, and the way he said it made her heart seize up. Was it another death? Kazimir and Raisa were away right now; both were experienced soldiers, but was it possible...?

"Bjerstad," he said. "Lord Alvssen departs suddenly, with no explanation. Utdal. A small town that was far too prepared for an attack of that scale. Lenmoen. A group of soldiers just waiting there for our troops, despite no reports from scouts.

"And then there's the matter of Aleksander. He has never taken the field against us before, and the one time he does, he happens to encounter one of us? There were closer cities, more endangered cities, but he chose Brevfjord." The commander crossed his arms. "Forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical."

Andel frowned, leaning back against the wall. "What exactly are you saying?"

"We have a traitor."

The word hit Morana like a blow from the butt of a rifle, a sharp crack to her chest. Traitor. All of them were looking around, no doubt asking themselves if the person next to them was the one. If the person they'd known for years was lying, ready to stab them in the back. Morana couldn't help but glance over at Zlatka, wondering...

"...doesn't change the fact that Aleksander is a threat that must be dealt with," the commander was saying. "It only makes my method of dealing with him more... complicated."

He stepped over to the maps and placed his finger on a blue pin. It was rare to see a blue pin on the map; in fact, they were only consistently seen on Avmakt. An important target was in the city that the commander was pointing to, and it wasn't hard to guess who. Morana leaned forward eagerly.

"Feirvangen," he said. "Reportedly, Aleksander is there. Killing one man will not win this war, but regardless, I want him dead."

Zlatka stepped forward. "I can lead a group of us against him—"

"No."

Morana was glad that he'd dismissed her, but what he said next was not something she wanted to hear.

"I will only send out one of you," the commander, turning back to the maps. "If one of you is a traitor as I expect... I will not take the risk of losing more of you than I have to. No, one will go and the rest of you will stay here under watch as a precaution."

Morana stood up. "Send me," she said. "I'll bring you his head if you want."

A second later, Ivo said, "No, I'll go."

She stared at him. He was smaller than her, slower... Aleksander would tear him to pieces. Was he trying to spare her? She was about to protest, but the commander beat her to it.

"You aren't strong enough for this, Zeman," he said. Then he looked around the room, flat gaze moving from person to person before settling on her. She wondered what he was thinking, but finally he nodded. "Laniková."

She couldn't stop the grin from appearing on her face. She was going to go. She'd be the one. First she'd kill Aleksander, then this traitor, and then the queen and her entire damned country. She would wipe the stain of these heretics away.

"All due respect, sir," said Ivo, "if you're going to send someone, why her? She's one of our strongest. It's too risky."

"What's risky," said the commander, the first note of irritation in his voice, "is wasting a life by allowing you to go. To put it bluntly, you do not stand a chance against Aleksander."

Something dark flashed in Ivo's eyes, but he held his tongue, which Morana was grateful for. It meant a lot to her that he cared enough to sacrifice himself for her, but couldn't he see what an idiot he was being? Even as children, she had always been stronger, but at least as children, he couldn't volunteer for missions that would get him killed.

"The rest of you will stay in your quarters. There will be no movement without supervision." All of the low murmurs in the room were silenced by one harsh glare from the commander. "Dismissed."

Everyone stood and filed toward the door, headed by Ivo, who stalked out of the room with his hands tightened into fists by his sides. Morana moved to go after him, but was stopped by the commander.

"Laniková," he said. "A moment."

He waited until the room was empty, watching as Andel ushered along young Ignac— who had, in fact, been sitting right outside. Once the door was closed, he turned and simply looked at her, appraising. Taking her measure, as if he could tell just by one glimpse how she would fare on this mission. The silence stretched until the air was thick with it, and she was about to say something when he spoke.

"Do you think you can kill him?"

"I know I can, sir," she said.

Even if he was faster and more powerful than she was, she had the rage of all of Pevnost Dukovníka at her back, and he of all people would know what a terrible idea it was to stand in the face of that.

"You're one of our strongest, maybe strong enough to defeat him," said the commander, "but he's been fighting since before you were conceived. And make no mistake, he will kill you if he gets the chance, so if he overpowers you..."

"You're not suggesting that I run, sir."

The commander lifted his chin. "We do not run. No, I want to give you this." He drew a knife from his belt and flipped it, offering it to her hilt-first.

It was a thin blade, just narrow enough to slip between the ribs, and it shone bright silver under the warm glow of the gas lights. The handle was polished wood, smooth in her hand, and the butt was carved in the shape of a wolf's head, which was baring its teeth in a snarl. Morana looked up at the commander, who was watching her carefully.

"Do you know how to kill a wild animal, Laniková?"

She shook her head. For all of her years on the battlefield, she'd never hunted an animal.

"A rifle shot is the most painless way, although slicing the throat works as well. Quick and easy, and neither cause suffering." A ghost of a smile passed over his face. "Aleksander may be a wild animal, but he doesn't deserve a swift end. So if you can, if you have him at your mercy... I want him to suffer, and I want him to see that knife before he dies."

She tucked the knife into her belt. "Then I'll gut him, sir."

"Good."

She looked down at the knife for a moment, sleek handle matching almost perfectly with her belt– a hunting knife, perfect for tracking down and ending a monster like Aleksander. Glancing up, she said, "Sir, I have to—"

But he was gone. He'd left while she was admiring the blade, and not for the first time, she wished the man would say something to indicate that he was leaving. Tucking the knife into her belt, she peered down the hallway, but didn't see him.

Exactly how fast can he walk? She needed to tell him about Zlatka, but now she'd have to chase after him. Left or right...? Well, the commander usually went out to the kennels at this time of day, but after a meeting like that? It's the best chance, she thought, so she went right. She rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and sure enough, there he was, walking with his usual brisk pace.

"Wait, sir!" she called, jogging to catch up.

He stopped and turned. "What is it?"

She told him of her conversation with Zlatka, watching as his eyes narrowed further and further, and the corners of his mouth turned down in a sharp frown, forcing deep lines into an already harsh face.

"I see," he said after a minute. "You think that she's our traitor, based on that?"

"She could be."

"For not sending a message to a family that's no longer living?"

"I think she lied, sir. It doesn't make any sense—"

"It makes perfect sense. A family gives up their child and then regrets it, refuses to have anything further to do with the military, even going so far as to dodge conscription. Now if you'll excuse me, I have my own journey to prepare for."

But then they would have had a child before both were eighteen... not impossible, but what about other family members...? Something didn't feel right. "But sir—"

"Paranoia, Laniková. Don't let it get to you."

Before she could say anything else, the commander walked away.

Was she being paranoid? Maybe Zlatka was mistaken; maybe she'd gotten faulty information... but the look in her eyes, what else could explain that? And how did Davor have no living relatives, not one? But then... did the commander know about it, or was he simply taking Zlatka's word for it? Surely he didn't have time to investigate every family, so he must have gotten his information from her.

And he'd left, and she couldn't tell him. He probably wouldn't believe her, if this conversation was any indicator. So she'd have to find someone who would. Rushing back down the hallway, she knocked on the first door to her left.

It swung open to reveal Ivo, who frowned slightly. "Morana?"

"Can I come in?"

He nodded and moved aside. "What is it?" he asked as she passed through. "Is this about the meeting? Because if so, I was just trying to—"

"Listen," she said, and proceeded to tell him everything. "It's just... so strange, and I don't know what to do about it."

His eyes were narrowed by the time she was done, and his head was tilted. "It is strange, you're right. He just dismissed it?"

"I don't understand. Clearly she's lying about something, and he doesn't know."

"Well, actually, he probably does know about it," said Ivo, settling down in his desk chair. "He's looking for a traitor. Why would he ignore anything, any hint at all, unless he already knew about it?"

"But..." If Zlatka was lying, and the commander knew, then did that make him a liar by extension? He wouldn't, not to us. It didn't make any sense. And he wouldn't dare— to lie not only to his soldiers, but to them in particular. It'd be like lying to the church, and to do so would be the most dishonorable, despicable—

"Morana? Are you listening?"

"What?"

Ivo sighed. "I said, I'll talk to the commander myself. You have a mission, so go. Go and prepare. Don't worry about this."

"Thank you."

Before she left, Ivo said, "Sestřička... be careful, okay?"

"Aren't I always?"

He smiled. "Are you ever?"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Morana sat in the council room alone with a book in her hand. She shifted slightly, trying to get used to the Rikensk commoners' clothing. It was a dress with a stiff, white linen blouse and apron, covered almost entirely by a rich blue fabric embroidered with flowers and swirls along the hem and on the back and chest. Underneath it was her uniform, but the dress was still uncomfortable in its impracticality. How was anyone supposed to fight in one of these? She couldn't even carry a rifle.

Turning the page of her book, she looked at the illustration. Colorful riverside houses, trees with snow settled on the branches, mountains rising high in the background... she had to admit that Feirvangen looked like a nice place. But she wasn't going there to enjoy the sights. She was going to kill a man, so she needed to know where he would be. Luckily, Feirvangen was a small town, even smaller than Nymlice, and she had a decent idea of where soldiers would go: if not a barracks, then to a tavern. Even if they weren't there, a group of soldiers wouldn't be hard to find in a town like that.

Find him, stab him, and leave. Seemed simple enough. She stood and put the book back on its proper shelf before stepping outside the council room. Very soon, she would take a train from here to a border town, then cross over into Riken. Morana grinned.

She ran through the halls, as fast as she could in the horrible dress, and ran her fingers along the stone walls as she made her way from the council room to the antechamber. Kneeling in front of the portrait of Jozef the Warrior Saint, she closed her eyes and murmured a prayer for success. Jozef's portrait depicted a dark-haired young man wielding a sword on a field of red-stained grass, a confident smile on his face. He had single-handedly turned the course of a battle, slaughtering over two hundred heretics; if any saint could grant her success, it would be him.

With that, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the snow. There were only three things in Dukovník: the fort, the church, and the train station, and so it was not difficult at all to go from one to the other. The train station was a simple building— actually not really a building at all; just a platform made of paved stone next to the wood-and-steel tracks, where a train was waiting.

Her soldiers were already on the train, all two dozen sitting until she boarded as well. They stood and saluted, and she bowed back. They would be accompanying her, fulfilling the other part of her mission—destroying the heretic town for good.

"Ready, ctihodnyá?" one of them asked.

She let her lips curve up into a small smile.

Yeah, it's been awhile... between some serious writer's block and my teachers deciding that it's an excellent time for tests and essays galore, this ended up getting delayed. But hey- it's here now. Maybe not my best, but...

Sestřička— this one means 'little sister', but I have a hard time giving you a pronunciation for this... Czech ř is such a hard sound to make; it's almost like rolling an r at the same time as making a 'zh' sound. Me, I can't even roll an r properly (which is... unfortunate... when it comes to learning Spanish) so best I can offer you for the pronunciation is this: ses-TREECH-ka.

But one thing that I think is kind of cool about Czech is that instead of saying "I am" and "I am not", they just have two different words. "Já" is "I", but like Spanish, it doesn't have to be used. Which leaves the verb: "jsem", I am, and "nejsem", I am not. (Although "ne" is just the word for "no"... but it's still cool).

So... you could say "jsem mladý" (I am young, for males) or "jsem mladá" (I am young, for females). Or on the other hand, "nejsem mladý (I'm not young, for males) or "nejsem mladá" (I'm not young, for females).

I'm a bit of a nerd for this stuff, but I mean... it's interesting. And maybe you can say that you learned something today, right?