The wine was Horasian, Furio recognized immediately after the first swallow. A good vintage.

“Not bad, is it, my lord mage?” Ingvalion raised his cup to him.

Furio nodded and did the same. He knew next to nothing about the Lord of Salza. Plainly dressed and calm tempered he judged him a soft spoken man, but his eyes somehow made him look dangerous. Still waters went deep, the saying was. If truth be told, Furio liked Lord Esindion of Trontsand best. The portly, old man with the ridiculous moustache possessed not even enough falseness to hide his cowardly fear of Janna and Laura. For Ingvalion Salzarell, as well as King Andarion, most of times Furio could not have said if they were afraid at all or greedily smelling opportunities. The ugly business with the peasant had been foreboding perhaps. He ought to be on his heels.

“It has many perks, this alliance of ours.” The lord went on with a thin smile.

Furio took another sip of wine. He had felt so immensely wise in his dream. He wished he was wise now.

'Only Nostrians' He told himself, repeating it in his mind. 'At the end of the day they have no real power, what ever it is they may think they are hatching.'

The Nostrians could neither stop Janna, Laura nor Horas if either went wroth with them, he was sure.

“Do you mean your alliance with us, or our alliance with the titans?” He asked in reply.

Ingvalion only smiled some more, ignoring the question.

“You are a mighty man, master Furio, having befriended these creatures. Pray tell me, how did you accomplish this?”

'Oh, the obvious.' Furio thought. 'And already.'

They saw and they lusted, or at least this sly lord did. Ingvalion had better be content with his new improved station. After the bridge was rebuilt no doubt he would receive a large portion of the lands north of the Ingval. Seated before the lord's pavilion they were overlooking parts of those very lands now, visibly fertile and rich if one was willing to invest the necessary labour. He'd be richer than ever before, controlling the only bridge over the Ingval there was in Nostria.

“Only by the best of intentions.” Furio said.

Ingvalion laughed pleasantly: “Oh look! Laura the Beauty is on the prowl again.”

It must have been the fifth time Laura came crossing in between the camp and the river. She was looking down, feet moving timidly towards this working person or that. It was obvious that she was searching for someone to step on. In the camp, servants were heating water in kettles over fires, water that had to be brought from the river first. Esindion of Trontsand wanted a bath. Maybe he had wet himself.

“She dares not do it openly,” Ingvalion observed, “so stepping into camp or city is out of the question. The young servants crossing her path for water are her best bet I think. Shall we wager if she gets one?”

A young serving girl shrieked and started sprinting the last dozen meters towards the smaller tents of the soldiers that surrounded the larger ones of the lords, water splashing from the heavy bucket she was carrying. Laura's foot came too late and her face turned grumpy ere she moved on.

“I do not carry money.” Furio blocked him off. “I'll shall usher them on as soon as food arrives so you and your small folk may rest easier. Has anyone come to harm while cleaning their shoes?”

“Well, what's harm?” Ingvalion slushed some wine around his mouth and swallowed. “No one has perished of the stink but I'm told it is quite gruesome. Janna the Giantess is making sure they are doing a thorough job of it.”

That meant that Laura had not been successful in crushing anyone and Janna was relatively staying her hand as well.

The lord changed the subject: “Where will you be going?”

“Receiving further orders.” Furio allowed.

“The border then.” Ingvalion smiled. “I'm am sure the king will tell you to rid him of any Thorwalsh or ogres you find on the way.”

Furio shrugged and sipped on his wine. On that count the king could rest easy and Ingvalion was a fool if he thought otherwise. Three little servants crouched by the tents, waiting for Laura to be far enough away so that they may run and fill their buckets again.

“Faster, or must I beat you?!” An older female servant with a stern face and white cloth wrapped around her head commanded them.

The youths did not heed her, nor even look at her. They only had eyes for Laura but if the giantess was looking back Furio could not see. Then they ran as fast as their young legs could carry them. Nearby, three squires sat, sharpening their lords' swords and discussing differently rough whetstones. Most idling soldiers were looking at the giantesses. A few drank ale and lost to each other at dice. Now and then, a soldier came and bid a comrade to take over his guard or sentry's duty. Grooms groomed horses, servants washed clothes or prepared food for the nobles, suspiciously glancing around for thieves. Most commoners were going hungry after Janna and Laura had eaten their supplies and even the draft animals.

“Did your titans enjoy our local cooking?” Ingvalion asked next.

Furio thought back at what it had been. He had not inquired as to the taste of any of it but not heard any complaints either.

“One would hardly call that cooking, my lord.” He objected.

“Aye, yes.” Ingvalion sniggered. “Bread and oatcakes perhaps but they ate all the rest raw as you please, sows, sheep, goats, chickens, geese, grains, even the milk cows. His grace will ask great monetary compensation, I think you understand, something about missed cheese, milk, eggs and such. He is quite fond of counting coppers.”

'And you would make a better king and ally?' Furio thought, remembering his dream. 'Or is it that you want to win the giantesses to your side with food.'

That was Furio's ploy, by enlarge, if there was anything left of it. He didn't have magic any more. If one of the giant girls decided to end him, then that was that.

“Were they the king's supplies?” He asked. “I thought his grace had lent them to you.”

“Aye.” Ingvalion's snigger died. “But now as they have not ended up at their intended purpose he seems to have forgotten that. Any compensation you make will go to him.”

Now Furio smiled. If only Ingvalion was content to wait until his city was rebuilt. Once the bridge was paid back to Andarion he'd be very rich, very quickly, and powerful too.

“We will see your workers fed, have no fear on that count, my lord.”

“When we are done rebuilding it would be my great pleasure to host you and your creatures.” The lord offered hopefully.

Furio had no idea how long it would take to rebuild Salza and it's surrounding economy. If they could get it done by spring it would be perfect for agriculture, but if truth be told he did not plan on lingering in Nostria any longer than he had to.

“Perhaps.” He said briskly and Ingvalion took his meaning, staring into his cup and emptying it to hide his face.

“Best not though, lest you may have to rebuild all over again. You do not meddle easily with them, my lord. I would rejoice to see the back of them if I were you.”

The same serving girl was coming back from the river and Laura was approaching again with better timing this time. She shrieked, dropped her bucket and ran. Her legs were young and carried her swiftly but were no match for Laura's amazing speed. Furio considered calling out but decided against it. A serving girl was nothing against Laura's spite.

Then, just before her bare sole was about to settle on top of her victim, Furio saw Laura's huge, brown, speckled eyes shoot towards him. They narrowed hatefully for a blink before the impossibly huge girl put on a mask of sticky, sugary sweetness.

“Oh!” She made, twisting her foot aside.

The servant cowered on the ground, sobbing, drenched in the water from fer bucket that had turned and spilled when she fell.

Laura crouched with all her immensity: “You should be careful where you walk, you little thing. I almost crushed you.”

She shot a side glance to Furio, spiteful again. He had not said anything, but Laura knew he would have liked to, somehow. A huge finger came, dug under the serving girl and lifted her to her feet like some bug lying on the back of it's shell.

“Go on, get your water.” The giantess smiled. “I'll wait. Sorry to frighten you.”

Furio noticed that Ingvalion had his eyes on him with admiration.

“Are you married, my lord mage?”

Furio flared his nostrils and said nothing. A pointless question. Ingvalion had a wife and daughter, both in Nostria after having fled with him from Salza before the onslaught of Hjalmar Boyfucker. The girl was fourteen or fifteen. If she had bled she was marriage material but not for a mage, and more not for one as old as Furio or at least for how old as he felt inside.

'And yet I did not object to Rondria.' He thought in grief.

He hadn't grieved properly for his beloved acolyte. How could he have, he thought, with all the butchery and murder and crushing of bodies the two living war machines produced most every day, with the mission hanging over his head and all the uncertainties. He had Graham draw a picture of her according to his description but found that it did not do her justice. He had burned it over a tallow candle in Alrik Oilboiler's house.

Laura waited patiently as the little serving girl wiped her eyes and staggered a diagonal line away from her and towards the river.

Suddenly Janna said something in that tongue Furio did not understand a word of. Her footfalls resonated in the ground beneath Furio's feet and she came into view, terribly fast, making for the river. The tiny girl shrieked again, right before Janna's foot crushed her into the riverbank, the wet ground giving way to the titanic weight in huge chunks.

The hands Janna washed in the river afterwards were perfectly clean.

Laura objected in her tongue and the other giantess turned to her, grinning.

“Oops.” She said, still standing on the body of the girl.

The silence in the camp was deafening before Janna looked over and suddenly everyone was very busy, even those who had done naught but staring before. The corpse stuck to her bare sole when she went away and only came loose after her third step. It was crushed eerily dry and as flat as a sheet of paper.

“Marvellous.” Lord Ingvalion remarked dryly, a mock imitation of his king.

Furio looked at him: “What does Andarion want?”

The other smiled again: “Why, what do kings want? What does anyone always want? More.”

He refilled first his and then Furio's wine cup.

“Man could be at peace with one another if only we accepted borders and possessions as they stood today. And yet, the ones most content with the least are those who are least. I wonder for what reason.”

He did not wonder for what reason. The answer was in the question itself.

“You should have your hands full, my lord, all of you.” Furio tried to sound Horasian but found that he had somehow unlearned how.

“Oh yes.” Ingvalion inclined his head. “So many dead and so much more land to be settled on. I am of a mind to pay my small folk just for breeding. A copper for each newborn babe. Such a shame what is happening in Andergast. I hear they flee by the thousands, but all the wrong way.”

Furio regarded his wine, the deep, dark red. It almost looked like blood.

The Nostrian Lord went on: “If by some happenstance someone of a certain format were to let it be know that there was lots of arable land to be had here, I am sure that we could play it to the benefit of everyone.”

“Everyone but Andergast.” Furio observed. “But it is a little request you make of me. If our way leads us west of the Ornib I shall see what I can do.”

Ingvalion looked pleased: “The hardest part will be to keep your giant monsters from killing everyone, I suppose. Other than that, you would be doing almost godly work. These poor people. And a stronger Nostria means a stronger Horas, now more than ever.”

That was true. If the Thorwalsh' land was settled Nostria would be more powerful, could sustain more people, produce more wealth to be used for what ever purpose. But it could also mean a more confident and less obliging ally and protectorate. Perhaps that was what Andarion was after, taking the scent of power and self-reliance.

“I will be blunt, master Furio.” Suddenly Ingvalion's eyes shun more dangerous than ever. “I can see twelve thousand ways Gareth may seek to go to war over your creatures if your betters agree to keep them. After Thorwal there can be no doubt as to the dangers they pose. And his grace is not a man to loose his wealth and power by losing for a vastly outnumbered ally. Today's demonstration was more than you knew. He wanted to see how powerful they truly were.”

It always came back to the dream, Furio thought. Perhaps that had been more foreboding than anything else. If only Ingvalion knew that Janna had devoured all three of them without a care, him, Esindion and king Andarion all. He felt the urge to light to his pipe again, only it was with Graham who was drawing somewhere.

“And would their might not convince his grace to keep faith?” He asked softly.

“Against a small foe, oh, certainly.” Ingvalion whispered. “But against tens of thousands of men such as Gareth can field? Hundreds of thousands? And what of the churches and small folk everywhere when the City of Light throws in behind them, lending justice to their cause. What king will wage war on the gods and the very people who empty his chamberpot?”

“What king could indeed?” Furio forced a smile. He did not like hearing any of this. He disliked this entire conversation.

But the lord smiled right back at him.

“A shrewd one.” He said. “A generous one. A good and capable one.”

“A treacherous one.” Furio finished darkly. “Besides, to them, we all look like small foes.”

He could not abide it, he had to have a pipe now, the sweet relief of Stoerrebrandt.

“Make not the mistake of judging their mightiness by looking up at them, my lord.” He added warningly. “Look at their feet if you care to see their real destructive power. If they saw fit, no man, woman or child were left in Nostria, and Gareth is far away.”

“Precisely!” Ingvalion countered but just as he wanted to continue a horn blared from the city walls.

Wagons. Furio stood at once, glad to disentangle himself from the conversation, and hurried around the pavilion to see. Over the crest of a very flat hill they emerged, riders in front. Ingvalion sighed when he arrived next to Furio and soon the lord of Trontsand and king Andarion were with him as well, watching. Twenty five wagons, Furio counted.

“Peace banner!” An outlook shouted from the battlements.

“Peace banner?” Ingvalion echoed perplexed. “Why do they carry a peace banner?”

It took a while before Furio spotted it, even though it was right next to General Lee, a white, ragged flag on a stick. It was carried by a rider atop a brown, spotted horse, clad in ring mail and clearly none of Lee's men. It was clearly not a Nostrian man either, for this was no man at all. Neither was she a soldier, but a priestess of Rondra, judging by the red lion on her chest.

“Your grace, uh...” A sergeant came up, the rings of his own armour singing merrily like the bells of a fool. “Shall I have the lads assemble for a parley, or...”

He stopped, gazing stupidly into the distance.

“Er, is that the Mad Lioness, I see?”

“That will not be necessary.” King Andarion gave no hint of understanding on his facial expression.

“Aye.” The stout man nodded and scurried away.

“What is she doing here?” Andarion asked displeased when the soldier was gone.

Confident and self-satisfied the priestess brandished her white banner, defying the fact that bearing it made no sense at all. Furio sensed a complication.

“Who is the priestess?” He asked, not understanding the confusion. “Is she a cavalieri?”

Cavalieri, or Knights of Rondra, were full priests of the warrior goddess, higher than the Squires of Rondra, but just as common.

“Worse.” Ingvalion replied softly. “The mad wench is Sword-Sister of the temple.”

Furio knew there was a Rondra temple in Nostria City, and Sword-Sister was the title of a Rondra temple's provost. Still he had no idea what her presence and white banner were about.

“Did you never hear of her?” Ingvalion seemed astounded. “Her deeds are famous, all the way down to Albernia and even Nordmarken I hear. Ah, she's a heroine with the small-folk, that one.”

After a little more time the woman peeled off the column and rode out onto a field were she waited, watching.

“Women shouldn't wear chain mail and swords!” Andarion roared suddenly, turning. “Squire, my arms and armour, know!”

Esindion gestured and mumbled for the same, going with him. Furio only stood.

“Remember what I told you about gods, my lord mage?” Ingvalion gave him a deep, sorrowful look in passing. “Ahh, prepare yourself for a lesson. Oh look, she brought a small army with her.”

Then he went too, shouting for his squire. Furio whirled from looking after him and what he saw gave him a headache as quickly as too much wine.

More people peeled away from the column, some on horseback, assembling by the Mad Lioness and her banner. All of them were priests, by the looks of them, each from every temple Nostria had to offer. There were Boron priests in simple black robes, Efferd priests in blue and fishnets, carrying tridents. Peraine priests wore green and sometimes gold, Travia priests red and orange. Rahya and Tsa priestesses were kin to freaks, the latter wearing normal garb but queer, rainbow coloured cloaks around their necks and the former easy to mistake for whores in blood-red dresses.

“Master?” Graham appeared out of nowhere, handing Furio the pipe he craved so much.

The lad looked curious, though it only showed on the side of his face that was unaffected by the paralysis. He crouched, lit a bit of tinder with flint and steel and handed it over as well.

Furio felt better when the smoke finally filled his lungs.

“What is that all about, master?” Graham mumbled, gesturing to the field.

He sighed: “If only I knew. Bring me a horse.”

When Graham made off, Janna came and asked the same thing: “Why are those colourfully dressed people over there surrendering, Furio?”

She always called him Furio, he recognized, wondering if he had ever taught her the correct way to address a wizard of his station. If he went out to talk to the priests there were a lot of titles he had to remember himself, and high ones, judging by some of the garb.

“They're not surrendering.” He explained. “They want a parley. Why, I could not say. Best you and Laura eat and stay here. We shall be on our way when you are done.”

Lee still made his way down the road and towards the city. Maybe he knew what this was all about. Graham handed over the reins of some soldier's horse, small, grey and haggard but Furio took them and swung into the saddle all the same.

For a moment he feared he had forgotten how to ride, noticing that he didn't even carry spurs on his boots. Instead he kicked his heels into the horse's flanks and the old, rickety mare did the rest. After two hundred steps he could hear the king and the lords shouting for their own mounts.

“Master Furio!” Lee greeted him with a grin, waving the column past him while he slowed.

Furio pulled the reins hard: “Who are those priests you bring with you?”

Lee chuckled and shrugged.

“I don't command the servants of your gods.” He said. “They brought themselves. Slowed down the wagons ever since my son caught up with them, but you'll agree that Feishan couldn't deny them protection.”

“What do they want?” Furio asked feverishly, Ingvalion's words ringing in his ears.

“The king came to look upon the giant wonders.” Lee pursed his lips and widened his eyes. “Let them have a look too! I think they see a spiritual conflict though, the fearsome maid especially. That one is quite something!” He laughed. “Challenged me to single combat because I don't share her faith!”

Giant wagons rumbled by, forcing him to speak louder.

“I told her I'm not one to turn away from a challenge but I'm a general and all and I have duties. Besides, it gives me no pleasure, killing maidens, and certainly not any as handsome as that. Do you know what she said?! She called me a craven and straight to my face!”

Then he laughed again, drunk, as Furio only realized now. The pipe was a relief but it could not quench the stinging pain emerging behind his temple. Wordless, he reeled his horse past the general and galloped off to meet the priests in waiting.

They were less than twenty, but what they lacked in numbers they made up in importance easily. Priests could proclaim to speak for gods after all, if they were shrewd.

The one they called the Mad Lioness rode out a few meters from the others to greet him. She was young, Furio found full of astonishment, only in her twenties and not hard to look at, in her own way. She was a tad boyish, reminding him of Rondria, though her smile was not warm but mocking, careless, her hair a mop of sand and her eyes huge, green emeralds that glittered with madness.

“Ho!” She called and his horse heeded her words without his say-so.

She drank, screamed and shouted a lot, Furio could tell from the unwomanly scratchiness of her voice.

“And who might you be?” She asked, grinning even wider than Lee and fingering the bastard sword at her hip. “If you are a challenger then where is your sword, or is that pipe in your mouth meant to keep me from lopping your head off?”

'Who is this woman?' He thought. 'And who does she think she is?'

She sounded more like a boy of fifteen with his voice breaking.

Furio puffed, looking back at her. A kind of tired hatred filled his chest that he had rarely ever known before. He was at a loss but in no mood to play the games of up-jumped, overzealous, little girls to find out whatever their purpose was.

“I am Furio Montane.” He said, coldly and adultly. “Magicus of combat by the grace of his royal...”

“You're no mage, old man?!” She fell in. “You've got no robes, no sword and not even a stick!”

She gave him a dismissive mustering: “If we weren't standing beneath a peace banner, I'd cut your heart out.”

'This one is wholly and truly mad.' He decided, guessing that this was precisely how this twenty something got to become a Sword-Sister of Rondra in the first place.

He sighed, grinding his teeth together: “You'd slay an unarmed man and ally who means you know harm? Those aren't Rondrian virtues as I recall them.”

She snorted before giving him an even closer inspection, changing her demeanour like autumn winds.

“I've changed my mind.” She said with a cock of her head but hatefully sparkling eyes. “You are a wizard and so responsible for that demons work I see sitting back there by they city.”

She pointed a callused finger into the direction behind him where Janna and Laura were.

'So this is the source of all this.'

“These aren't demons, Sword-Sister.” He warned. “You should trust the word of a white mage on this.”

“We are not so sure!” A tall male priest stepped forth, the golden twig of Peraine embroidered on the chest of his moss-green robe.

Furio got angry.

“Rooting out demons, evil-worship and heresy are the primary responsibility of the church of Praios.” He called sharply. “Not yours, mh...”

He hesitated, looking for the right title before remembering that there was no title even for the provost of a temple in the church of Peraine. The head of the church was called Servant of Life, but that was it for titles.

The Mad Lioness scoffed cruelly at his laps. A peasant or most other village people would have well known, but for a man of Furio's station servants of Peraine, goddess of tillage and healing, were not exactly regular acquaintances.

“What is the meaning of this!?” King Andarion shouted, reining up next to Furio with the two lords in tow.

“Oh, your grace!” The Mad Lioness smiled. “Are you my challenger or one of these other two? I want to settle this issue by single combat!”

The way she said those last two words betrayed the fact that they were her favourites too easily.

“Shut up, wench!” He spat. “There is no issue here! Master of Waves, why have you come?”

'Smart.' Furio recognized. By turning to the priest of Efferd, a remarkably important god in these parts and a remarkably high ranking man, second only to the Keeper of the Circle in that church, the king was able to bypass the mad girl efficiently, or so he had hoped.

Unfortunately, the Master of the Waves was stone old, almost a dodderer, small, bent and unable to walk unless he used his gold-toothed trident as a cane.

“We have come to see,” he said, so slowly and softly that it was almost painful to listen. An awkward silence fell on the scene and many gave looks of pity, “the giant creatures of which the folk are speaking, far and wide.”

He raised a quivering hand to point, but it was hopelessly in the wrong direction if one truly followed it. His eyes were as bad as his legs and knees.

“Are these demons, your grace? Tell...tell me true?”

At last he turned to a novice by his side, lending a supporting arm to him. There was no doubt that he had forgotten what he was saying just amid sentence. The Mad Lioness looked at him as though he was an old dog she meant to put out of it's misery.

“They are large, Master.” Furio took the word ere anyone else could. “But only flesh and bone as are we.”

“Unnatural.” The Rondra priestess replied. “The gods will not stand for this! Godly folk should fight them, yet our king sits and shares meat and mead with these monsters!”

“Careful now, woman!” Andarion snapped at her and she glared at him in response.

Furio felt that hate again, rising. He was so tired of stupidity that he could not bear being close to it and in his mind he already wondered why he was still trying to de-escalate the situation. If the Mad Lioness was anywhere as fearsome with her sword as she was with her mouth then he might be in trouble. But surely, the king and lords would hold her back now.

What was supposed to stay her hand were her virtues though, and that made him angriest of all. Rondra was the warrior goddess, fearsome and wild, aye, but she was also the keeper of fairness, honesty, proportionality, protecting the weak and the innocent, not butchering unarmed foes, nor threatening to do so, much less those who had no idea how to use a sword or barely any weapon for that matter.

If the church of Praios encountered too much resistance in their vigour to root out what it perceived as evil, then the Knights of Rondra might come to help them, perhaps. But by enlarge Furio had believed those aspiring to be virtuous in the name Rondra to be of far more decency than the zealous and pious servants of the sun and their relentless holy inquisition.

It seemed to him that this woman was proving him wrong and it hurt him, for it was one less thing in which he could believe. He feared that soon there would be nothing left to believe in.

“Tell me, your grace.” The priestess' eyes glittered with hatred. “Are you on the side of evil or on the side of the twelve true gods?”

'Ingvalion wanted to warn me.' Furio realized. 'Though he had wholly other things in mind. They're all false, half of them, and the other half are blind.'

“I am not going to entertain y-” Andarion began but Furio cut him off sharply.

“Go home!” He snapped at the group of priests, the peaceful and inconsequential ones in particular. “This is bigger than you! Stick to your gods and your purpose. The people need you, now more than ever before! Go home, or else waste your lives in following this maddened bitch into the grave!”

Everyone was silent, looking at him, but he did not care.

“What is it you think you can achieve here?!” He went on. “You may feel pious and smug inside your chests, but if you pursue this, the whole lot of you are going to get crushed, and your gods are not going lift a finger to stop it!”

“And what honour is in that, I ask you, crushing priests?” The Mad Lioness challenged him. It was exactly what she had waited for it seemed, according to her smile. “Is that what your evil monsters did up north? Did your evil work undo the Thorwalsh as you mean for us, witcher?”

“That you dare to speak of honour!” He was fully roaring now, so hard that it vibrated in his chest. “Was it not you who meant to cut me down a moment ago, despite my lack of means to defend myself?”

He pointed again: “These monsters as you name them are just like you, at heart!”

He calmed, drew on his pipe and exhaled before giving her a last, hateful look: “You're only smaller.”

To his surprise, the small priests heeded his words, making back to road wordless, two young ones helping the old Master of Waves along as they went. The Mad Lioness did not budge and neither did the two others of her church, another woman in chain mail, though lesser than her, and a boy in boiled leather.

“We will fight them.” The mad woman proclaimed. “And with Rondra's blessing we shall win!”

“Good.” Furio nodded coldly, reeling his horse around. “I will tell the big one to crush you under her foot in single combat. The other one can have your striplings though I can not vow as to the swiftness of their deaths.”

He had not ridden for five seconds before the king and lords were all over him.

“Master Furio!” The king urged queasily. “This is a most delicate matter, the small folk...”

The priests had stopped, watching anxiously. This would not do, Ingvalion was right on that. Furio pulled the reins to stop before swinging off his horse so suddenly that the three others rode right past him. He had an idea.

“What is it you meant to achieve by slaying me in duel, I wonder?” He asked the Mad Lioness again whilst strutting back towards her on foot, spreading his arms to show that he did not even carry so much as a dagger. “Do you think the giantesses will go away?”

Her mouth opened, then closed, unknowing how to reply.

'Oh, she roars fearsome, this lioness.' He thought. 'But does she bite?'

“Well, have at me then!” He went on. “Lop off my head, cut my heart out, ride me down like grass, I accept your challenge!”

Hate filled her eyes again and she swung off her own horse as well, showing that she did believe in fairness after all, an inkling at least.

“Are you tired of living, old man? You are not even armed.”

Nonetheless she brandished her blade, this glaring hypocrite. If she thought him a black sorcerer and evil-doer she might still strike him down with real convictions he realized, perhaps too late. Only a display of real Rondrian virtues might help on that count.

“Perhaps I think a world with you is not worth living in.” He stopped and spat onto the ground. “Here is what I think of your honour.”

She roared and came forward, stomping feet in brown leather boots, reinforced with steel. Furio did not move an inch, still holding his arms out, utterly defenceless. Perhaps he was really as tired of living as he said, he thought to himself. He fully recognized the gravity of the situation he put himself in too. He had to defy death, show that his own convictions were true. At that, he had become a real master as of late, having brushed with Boron's fingers too many times to count.

“Keeper of the Raven!” He called to the provost of the Boron temple. “Do not bury me here but send my corpse to Horas! At least there I still feel there are people with sense in between their ears!”

The priestess' face hardened even more but she stopped, then lowered her sword.

“Why are you willing to die for them?!” She rasped furiously, helpless at his lack of defence.

She couldn't slay him truly, now that he forced her to finalize the decision. Not only would Janna most likely kill her in turn, she'd also lose her reputation as a servant of Rondra. His faith restored somewhat at that. A good and fanatical Priaos priest would be a harder test, he realized, for he had the say in what was demonic and evil and what wasn't, without possessing the arcane means of determining it. Ingvalion had the truth of that too, though in this situation he had been of little practical help.

“You have a fearsome roar.” He finally replied. “How far does it reach, I wonder?”

The Mad Lioness looked irritated.

'So young.' He thought. 'And so small.'

She was not only slender but almost a head shorter than him at that. A person such as this might possess a high reputation and a lot of gravitas in certain circles. Ingvalion had said so too. The church of Rondra reigned powerfully in Gareth, with knights and fighters in particular. If he could manage to convince her that Janna and Laura were not demons and not half as evil as she assumed, then that might help his cause in the future.

And if the two she-titans made a botch of his plan, well, Furio did not believe that the Lioness' opinion of them could get any worse, the words she might spread any more spiteful than those she would utter if she returned to Nostria now. Thus he deemed that there was little to lose and much to gain in this ploy, even though he dreaded having to spend any more time with her. Informing the giantesses of his plan might have been better, as well as teaching them how to act as though they heeded Rondrian virtues for a time but there was no room for that now.

“Come.” He told the flustered woman. “Send home your cubs and let me convince you of the goodness of our large friends.”

-

Horasian supplies tasted so much the same every time that Laura almost resented them. It wasn't bad food, exactly, but neither particularly good. Surely, the Horasians were able to come up with very tasty cooking but these were army rations, meant to fill, not please. Once again, sweet fruit was her favourite.

“I got peach!” Janna exclaimed, squeezing the contents of a tiny cask onto her tongue and crunching the vessel to splinters in the process to get even the last drop out of it. “What do you have?”

“Apple, I think.” Laura replied, slightly disappointed.

Peach would have been really awesome to taste again. She had had something that tasted like pineapple a moment before and almost drooled it back out of her mouth at the sweet, magnificent taste of it. Most of the other stuff was bread today, and that was dismaying. It had been baked twice, she guessed, so as to prevent mould, then simply squeezed into a barrel and sealed. Then there was lots of sour vegetables, but also ale and wine today. Both of these were fruity in their own right, but not very strong. Laura found that mixing the dry bread or oatcakes with drink in her mouth made it tastier, still it was far from any fare she felt she deserved, and even farther from the pleasant taste of tiny people.

The people were eating too, though be it at a save distance. Of twenty five wagons, tiny General Lee had given up four to the Nostrians in exchange for the earlier supplies Janna and Laura had consumed. He had also said that it would be best if they could abstain from eating the draft animals this time, swearing that they were very costly.

Laura wondered how many gold coins worth of food she had stuffed into her belly since coming here, and how many people she had sent down into her digestive track as well.

“You're not angry I smushed your little toy girl, are you?” Janna shot over a glance.

She must have been frowning or looked grumpy, Laura realized.

“No.” She shrugged quickly. “Furio saw me anyway. All I could have done was to tell the little water bringers well played or something like that. They were really good at avoiding me, the little girl in particular before you got her.”

“Sorry.” Janna chuckled. “What did they do with body?”

Laura grinned back: “Peeled her out of your footprint and tossed her in the river, like she never existed.”

They both had a laugh at that but Laura would be glad to turn her back to this place. It would be soon, once the food was consumed. Furio projected that they would walk for the rest of the day and some of the next but Graham disagreed. When Laura had asked him the tiny slack-faced boy had mumbled that judging by how much ground they had covered up in Thorwal, this march would be over in less than half a day. Laura wasn't so sure, for she had only his beautifully crafted earth map to go by, but actually when it came to maps and geography she sensed that Furio could still learn something from his assistant.

She flinched and grimaced when she found that the contents of the cask she was eating was raw onion conserved in vinegar. She spat it out against the walls of Salza.

“Here we are, Sword-Sister!” Furio's voice said overly loudly on Janna's opposite side. “I present to you, Janna and Laura, huge, living bastions against the forces of evil!”

Laura leaned around Janna's back to see.

“They are much larger from up close.” A small woman said.

She wore armour and sword, pants, boots and a white surcoat with a red lion on it. She looked like a she-knight of sorts, and that made her immediately special in this company. She was the only woman around who wore pants, besides Janna and Laura, let alone arms and armour.

Andarion, Ingvalion and Esindion stood behind on their horses, somehow seeming intent on not getting too close.

“Furio!” Janna made happily. “And who is this?”

“This, my dear Janna, is the Mad Lioness, Sword-Sister of the Rondra temple in the capital. She has come to make sure that the two of you are neither demons nor evil.”

They had to play nice now, Laura understood, but somehow she didn't feel like it. She was still kinda wroth with Furio after he had circumvented her chance to crush the tiny serving girl, enabling Janna to take it away from her.

“Lioness...” Janna pondered, beating her index finger against her lip while regarding the little she-knight and her coat of arms. “Lioness...uh, a huge, yellow cat that eats black- and white-striped horses?”

“Why, of course.” Furio said as though it was obvious. “And just as fearsome, and well revered, may I add.”

Laura chuckled, coming around on her knees. Big green eyes shun through the strawy blond hair of the tiny newcomer and widened as Laura loomed over her, grinning.

“She looks afraid.” She quipped. “Do we frighten you, girl?”

The reaction was knee-jerk, proud and immediate: “Nothing frightens me, monster!”

Predictably, Furio showed signs of alarm and rushed to calm the situation.

“You must forgive Laura.” He explained with a reproachful look. “She has a sharp tongue, that is all.”

That was insulting, considering how high Laura's body count must have stood by now.

Janna went fully along with Furio's acting: “You are really brave, I can see that. Please take care not to step too close to me, I would not wish to hurt you unintended.”

Another rebuke was on the little one's lips but she seemed to swallow it after brief consideration. Furio looked very pleased while Laura felt utterly excluded.

She thought about what she might say to spoil Furio's plans much as he had spoiled hers earlier, but Janna was quicker and shot her a reminder: “Be nice, Laura. I guess she's important.”

“Was that what the business with the many coloured people was about?” Janna turned to Furio next. “To see if we were evil?”

She laughed amiably, innocently and so falsely that it almost turned Laura's stomach.

“Aye.” Nodded the tiny mage. “They were priests, shepherds of men, making sure the two of you pose no danger to their flocks. They went, well satisfied.”

“But this one doesn't believe you, does she.” Laura blurted forward, hanging her menacing face over the little thing they tried to scam. “Why do they call you Mad Lioness? You look more like a frightened little kitten.”

The tiny thing drew her sword: “Withdraw your face and your insult or we shall settle this matter by single combat, monster!”

Janna's hand shot out and tugged at the back of Laura's shirt, mumbling warnings through her teeth. Laura followed, rising again but looking down at the tiny speck of a girl as though she was dirt.

“Uh, sharp tongue.” Furio settled awkwardly. “More bark than bite, really. Much like you.”

“You!” The tiny lioness spun on her heel to face the mage, blade in hand and furious. “Say that again!”

Laura's mischievous seed was sprouting roots right before her eyes and much to her amusement.

“Hey!” Janna called out in alarm, seeing her precious little protégé threatened and quickly grabbed the tiny priestess by the back of her mail and surcoat to lift her up into the air.

The horses beneath the three noble arses in the back moved backwards, Furio shouted and the tiny girl flailed her arms around as if she was looking for an invisible piñata. The way Janna held her shirt constricted her arms but not enough to completely disallow her from finally putting her blade to use once she had figured out how to do it.

“Ow!” Janna screamed when the tip of the sword entered her thumb, dangerously close to that very sensible area beneath the nail. “Ow, stop it! If I drop you, you'll fall and you'll hurt yourself! Ow!”

With her last shriek the steel had finally entered beneath the nail and it was clearly too much pain to bear it. She set the tiny fighter down quickly, drawing back her hand to suck on her thumb. She was understandably upset and angry but that was nothing against the Mad Lioness who now really showed why she had been given the name in the first place.

Her first action after being freed was to step forward and lunge a dangerous side cut at the tiny mage who barely escaped without his belly opened. When Janna saw that, her hand came back again, picking her up and closing her in her fingers only to cry out and let her go again when the priestess continued to pierce the skin of her hand with the tiny sword. Like cracks on glass the tiny papercuts looked and Janna opened her hand to suck on them.

The next instant Laura saw her friend ball her fist again, ready to crush the little offender into a pulp. But this time she would steal a little play-thing from Janna. The little Lioness' stood, looking around like a mad, cornered dog, sword in hand, before Laura's hand came down on her and pressed her flat against the ground. She was still trying to hack and hurt, but Laura was well skilled enough to know how much pressure she must apply to put an end to that without killing.

Furio was shocked, looking at the tattered garments over his belly where the sword had almost gutted him. Janna was pale with worries for him.

“Are you unharmed?”

“You should consider wearing chain mail too.” Laura advised and tossed him the sword when she had pried it loose from under her hand. “What were you thinking, bringing her around?”

His shocked expression turned to anger, directed back at her, but the tiny worm was too scared to reprimand her.

“Don't look at me like that.” She went on. “It wasn't my words that made your little kitten go all berserk.”

“You should have been nice to her.” Janna scolded in English. “Furio must have had some plan or something. Did you crush her?”

“Nope.” Laura grinned. “She's stuck under my hand.”

“She's alive.” Janna translated. “Shall we, uh...”

“Free her.” Furio said instantly. “Her word carries far. If we can still convince her of your goodness that may spare us a lot of trouble down the line.”

He bent, picked up the sword and walked to Laura's hand. That wasn't how Laura had planned it, but in light of things she had no other choice but to comply, though be it grudgingly. Once free, the priestess jumped to her feet and drew a dirk from her belt, eyes wide, crazy and afraid.

“This is the second time you almost slew an unarmed man.” Furio told her, strangely unafraid. “Somehow I am starting to believe that the two giantesses have more honour than you.”

It vexed her visibly, but the resonance of his words weighed stronger. Astonished, Laura saw the tiny mage flip the blade clumsily in his hands and offering it up, hilt first.

The Mad Lioness took it, glaring but unsure what to do next.

“Sheathe it.” Furio advised calmly. “Your dagger as well, and pray to Rondra that Janna will forgive you for attacking her.”

He turned expectantly and Janna understood.

“It is fine.” She sighed, all bloated and swollen trying to sound high-born. “The little, brave Lioness has nothing to fear from me.”

“Calm down, I was just playing.” Laura leaned in and put on a reluctant grin. “I couldn't know you had such a quick temper. I apologize.”

Now sword and dagger in hand, the priestess looked from each of their faces to the other before finally putting her arms away.

“Well done.” Janna whispered in English and gave Laura a friendly nudge.

It was a tad sour, but if the plan could spare them future trouble then she wouldn't spoil it, Laura decided at last.

“She could have killed you easily.” Furio remarked satisfied, turning back. “Yet she didn't, for it would not have been a fair fight and she saw no evil in you, despite your rage. I trust that this is sufficient to convince you of truth of my words?”

“No.” The Mad Lioness stepped forward and past him, giving both giant girls suspicious looks. “I shall come with you for a while and observe them for longer, make sure this is not some ruse I fall prey to.”

Furio sighed and looked up at Laura from behind the priestess' back, deep into her eyes. There was no ill-will in them, for once, not even concern or objection. Laura found it strange.

“As you wish.” He said after a moment, his eyes dark. “It was past time we were going. Laura, I entrust the safety of the Sword-Sister to your hands. See that no harm befalls her.”

That was even stranger, especially his barely detectable undertone. Laura wondered if she was supposed to kill the priestess or perhaps crush her spirit by playing with her, as opposed to the uninterpreted meaning of Furio's words. The feisty little lioness would make for an exquisite toy. On the other hand, maybe Furio meant to teach her restraint and obedience in the strange way Janna would show restraint and obedience to him sometimes.

“But...” Janna began, her eyes shooting in between all three others, flabbergasted.

Furio immediately raised a hand to silence her before her objection to Laura handling the priestess could raise any suspicions. She was helpless, only able to give Laura a hard look when the tiny priestess looked away.

“Is Master Furio too frightened to share a giant hand with me?” The Mad Lioness asked mockingly. She had sheathed her weapons along with her fear it seemed. Laura wasn't sure if she was completely sane.

It was all strange and bewildering but that was precisely what captured her attention about this.

The tiny mage spread the gash in his clothes with his fingers, giving a tired look: “Being next to a wild beast such as you goes against my own safety, I am afraid. I'd like to keep my entrails for now, thank you.”

That dimmed Laura's expectations because it was another and far more rational explanation for him to choose her over Janna to carry the priestess. Still, why the look, she thought, and that undertone. Perhaps she had imagined it, or else he was just playing a ruse now. It could be a tad less confusing, all of this, if it were to her taste.

Graham came, carrying two leather bags and bed rolls, just when Janna lowered her hand. Once him and Furio were on they exchanged farewells with the Nostrian Nobles and General Lee who informed that he would not be joining them and instead continue running supplies to the front line with his Maraskans.

“If per chance you cross paths with any Thorwalsh or giants...” King Andarion began.

“I'll crush them to jelly.” Janna finished grimly.

Laura paid it all little heed, fixing her attention to the tiny priestess that had almost murdered Furio with a single, angry slash of her sword. The young, blond woman looked right back into her eyes. She reminded Laura of Christina somehow, perhaps because of the somewhat masculine haircut.

She put down her hand, insecure: “Climb on if you are not afraid.”

“Nothing scares me.”

The priestess gave Laura's hand some probing with her minuscule hands, resting her weight as if she was unsure of Laura's ability to carry her. To Laura, her weight was next to nothing.

And then they went, carrying their things as they had for some many days up north in Thorwal. The way would lead them up the Ingval for a time and then west, through forests and foothills. Somewhere there, supposedly, there was the Horasian main camp where they would meet the ominous General Scalia whom Laura had heard so much and yet so little about by now.

“Don't mess this up.” Janna warned in English after the first few hundred steps, grimly starring ahead.

It looked almost cartoonish in the sunny weather. Laura watched Furio but the mage was engaged in a talk with Graham over landmarks and the accuracy of the map the tiny slack-faced man had drawn.

“I think Furio wants me to kill her, or torture her or something.” She replied hesitantly, careful not to look down and give the tiny priestess in her hand a hint as to what they were speaking about.

The tiny mage didn't so much as look up any more when his name was mentioned while they were speaking in their own language. Neither did he give a hint to help her out, and how could he have. Janna's head snapped around.

“Why would he want that?” She asked angrily. “We have to woo her, Laura, make her believe we're like angels and shit. I guess she's like a star or something. Remember when that one actress wore that outfit with the red and gold and you really wanted to have it but when you showed up to class on Monday five other girls wore the exact same thing and ended up looking like some stupid hostesses? This is like that. If she says we're peaceful, a lot of people will believe her and that is important if we want to have allies.”

Laura had understood or at least suspected as much already and found the lecture condescending. But before she could utter a rebuke, the tiny priestess' voice sliced through their conversation like a knife.

“She speaks many words in that queer tongue of hers. What does she have to hide?”

Janna blushed.

“Uh, nothing.” She managed quickly. “It's...more convenient to speak my own tongue, that's all. I was just saying how...important Rondrian virtues are.”

“Oh really?” The Mad Lioness grinned, shouting up from Laura's hand to Janna's ear over the crunch of road, earth, buried roots and stones under their shoes. “How so?”

Janna licked her lips: “Mhh, without them, the world, uh, fighting...would be...really messy.”

“They lend dignity to what would otherwise be little more than butchery.” Laura threw in to help her struggling friend.

“They prevent butchery.” The priestess corrected loudly. “An even combat between two equal opponents. All that is fair and right. Who could object to that? Now tell me, how do the two of you manage on that count? Thorwallers are tall and strong, aye, but I do not recall them as being quite equal to you.”

Janna swallowed, helpless, glancing at Laura for more help.

Laura gave a shrug: “They make up in numbers what they lack in size and weight, I suppose. Besides, that really interests me. Say two opposing forces meet on a field of battle. One is twice as large as the other and the smaller is cornered against, uh, a mountain. Is it fair for the larger force to crush the smaller? As a servant of Rondra, what would you do if you were to command the larger or the smaller force?”

“Single combat!” The answer came at once. “There is no better way. Let Rondra sit in judgement over who wields his sword with more conviction!”

Laura frowned: “Yes, but why would anyone need armies then? Couldn't it all be heroes and knights walking the land, hacking at each other to settle disputes that way? And what if a knight says to a peasant that he wants his turnips. Does the peasant have to fight the knight to keep possession of his own property? That's hardly fair, is it.”

The tiny priestess was unabashed, the conversation entirely derailed from the topic of Thorwal and Janna's and Laura's atrocities for now. The trick was to keep her drivelling her pious nonsense, using what Laura knew about Rondrian virtues. It was little enough, but then again, it was all very straight forward and not very voluminous or well thought out. If put to paper for study, service to Rondra would without a doubt read like some faerie tale story that featured gallant knights and princes and the like.

“Rondra might be the most noble, but she is but one of twelve.” The Mad Lioness explained. “If your knight has a valid claim to the property, then he may put the issue before a judge and if there is merit to be found in the dispute then the judge must make a ruling. As for your proposal to abandon armies, nothing would please the goddess more, yet they are necessary for men are false. To shield against the armies of falseness and evil, good men and women must take up arms as well.”

Laura nodded, giving another shrug. It was sensible enough she supposed, though entirely boring.

“And such a judge would be...”

“A noble, commonly,” The priestess went on. “or a priest of Praios, if a high-ranking enough one is within reach. Elsewise any servant of the Twelve might do, or a village elder, a mage, guild master, craftsman or council of any such according to the case at hand.”

“This is Lyckmoor!” Furio shouted suddenly, peering over the edge of Janna's hand towards the burned-out village they were approaching.

It had been a big one, but the Thorwalsh had overrun and destroyed it nonetheless. Blackened timbers and ash remained, fallen to grey sand after a rain. Someone had been here and buried corpses though. The graves were still relatively fresh in the soft ground by the river.

“Long legs travel fast indeed.” The lioness noted before moving carefully towards the edge of Laura's hand to get a good look herself.

“We will find those who did this,” she added bitterly, “and see that they are brought to justice. This I vow!”

Laura considered echoing the sentiment but decided against it. Janna had said that Scalia would most likely send them to Andergast to kill tiny giants, so there would be little time to go through the Nostrian woods and hunt down stray groups of Thorwalsh raiders.

“Don't step on anything. Leave everything as it is.” Janna warned in English as if Laura was child that needed constant reminders for the most obvious things.

“Did you fight the Thorwalsh yet?” Laura asked the priestess instead.

She seemed to have struck a nerve without even trying.

“I have not!” The Mad Lioness snapped. “Going up against the forces of evil alone is too dangerous and the Nostrians who can fight will not do so next to a woman!”

“Well, you fought Janna bravely enough.” Laura replied, taken aback by the outburst and trying to fix the unintended offence. “And didn't you say nothing scares you?”

It had been well intended and yet a very stupid thing to say to this young woman, she realized a moment later. A tirade of such ferocity followed, that Laura could barely understand a word. Monster seemed a frequent theme though, as well as demon, next to wench, whore, craven and dimwit. Now the lioness reminded her more of Valerie than Christina, Valerie who had been such a hassle, Valerie, whom she had tormented, abused and finally eaten alive.

Steel was drawn once more, still streaked with the blood of Janna from earlier.

“Stick that in my hand and I'll...”

“Laura.” Janna growled through her teeth.

The priestess looked at Laura with her big, green eyes sparkling. Laura wondered what was wrong with this girl.

“I yield.” She said then, instead, sourly. She had heard the sentence before. It made sense to yield, she thought. What could a gallant fool do but accept it.

Over on Janna's hand, Furio turned to the scene, sighing, tired and angry.

“She barks like a bitch in heat,” He remarked coldly, pointedly aggressive somehow, “she is as prickly as a hedgehog and strikes like a cornered cat. Yet in your hands, Laura, she is but a little, angry dung beetle.”

Janna looked at him in confusion but Laura thought she understood. He was fed up with her, convinced that her good graces could not be won. The little woman spun on Laura's hand but found that she couldn't reach the mage on Janna's, not unless she'd suddenly sprouted wings and learned to fly.

“Dung beetle.” Laura whispered softly and grinned.

The sword flashed up and came down, hacking into her palm, but she had expected as much.

“Hep.” She laughed in the next instant and tossed the tiny priestess up into the air before catching her again.

The hope of disarming the lioness was vain, clinging too tightly to her sword as she was. Another sword cut stung in her skin. It was a formidable blade, sharp, good steel, well forged. To pry the weapon away from her, Laura needed a free hand so she dropped her sleeping bag and used thumb and index finger to catch the arm. She knew the dagger would come next, so she lifted the priestess by the caught limb and used the had that had held the little bugger to catch the other arm.

With both arms stretched out and hanging in the air between Laura's fingers, the priestess looked somewhat like Jesus on the cross.

“Let me go you gargantuan, ogrish monster!”

Laura smiled: “If I pull, the weakest part of you will yield first and tear. Since you are right-handed, I guess it'll be the shoulder of your left arm. Do you want to lose your left arm, or will you let go of your weapons?”

She put her elbows against her breasts so as to have a more gingerly control over the pull she performed now, only meant to inflict pain and threaten.

“Leave her to it.” Furio commanded when Janna wanted to move in. “She doomed herself.”

From the priestess' mouth came another tirade, but that only amused Laura.

“The mage is right.” She whispered, still louder. “This is one against one, and I yielded but still you hurt me. I have every right to do with you as I want now. Let go of your weapons.”

“Told you he wanted me to kill her.” She added to Janna so that the others would not understand. “Doesn't she remind you of Valerie too?”

“Maybe.” Janna shrugged, confused. She made the very same tired face that Furio made.

“Isn't it funny how there always seems to be only so many types of people in the world?” Laura went on, regarding her struggling and spitting captive. “Unique ones are always kinda rare. Well, Furio is, I guess.”

“Huh.” Janna made astonished. “I actually think everyone is unique, but like, your brain categorizes people to make it easier for you and then you only find out how unique they are once you know them better.”

“Yah, okay.” Laura had to concur. “But I'm not sure if I want to know this one any better right now.”

Janna sighed and looked at Furio who seemed to be expecting that Laura kill the Mad Lioness. The only one missing a part in this absurd theatre was Graham, as usual, but even he stirred now, creeping to the edge of Janna's hand and shouting: “Men!”

Laura always found it hard to understand his speech so it took Furio to turn his head towards the nearby patch of woods to know what was going on.

“Urgh, this is just stupid.” She moaned when she saw the fifty or sixty emerging Nostrians.

Most of them were peasant and female, carrying branches or similarly improvised arms. Then there was a handful of soldiers, eight or so, and two armoured guys who must have been lords or knights. All were afoot.

“What's this now?” Janna asked Furio.

“Flatfish on blue.” He replied. “No Thorwalsh or allies of them, if they don't play a ruse. And what if they do. Crush them, Janna. We have no time for this and I've had a belly full of it already.”

“But...” Janna started. “But we're allies and what of the bodies, they'll identify them as Nostrians by their clothes even if I flatten them, won't they?”

“I've seen you turn people into minced meat before.” The mage shrugged. “If you're concerned, catch them and undress them, or eat them if you please. That way not even the gods will recognize them.”

When Janna hesitated, Laura sighed again: “Janna, you're being stupid. You made people clean out smushed corpses from our shoes and you stepped on a serving girl right were the fucking king could have seen you. Come on, have some fun. Wanna use them for sex?”

Laura was in the mood for some crushing and eating people, fucking them and being taken by Janna with the dildo.

“Fucking...no!” Janna shook her head in bewilderment, completely at odds with what Laura thought she had become.

Still she stomped forward, fuming, but instead of crushing the approachers under her feet she stopped to ask them questions.

“What do you want?!”

Laura turned to the priestess in search for something she could make sense of.

“I'm growing tired of holding you.” She started pressing her fingers together, eliciting screams of pain. “Drop the weapons or I'll squish both your arms to jelly. You'll never wield a sword ever again.”

She didn't really want to obliterate the tiny limbs she was holding. If the priestess passed out Laura could not play any of the games that crossed her mind when looking at her. Under the pressure of her fingertips the roaring lioness turned to a crying little kitten again and finally dropped her blades. They plummeted to the ground, forgotten by Laura before they even hit.

“We'll have fun later.”

“We demand the release of the Mad Lioness from you monsters!” One of the armoured men swore on the ground.

They stopped, foolishly crowding before Janna who crouched over them in turn.

“We should be glad they came out.” Furio told her as though the people weren't even there. “If they had seen Laura kill the mad wench it might have been bad for us.”

“Come on.” Laura sneaked up around Janna. “Let's play with them.”

The tiny Nostrians had been great fools indeed to crawl out of woodwork. This world seemed to hold an ample supply of fools.

“Look at these fucking idiots.” Janna swore in frustration. “Fucking peasant girls with sticks. Didn't the little bitch just say the knights didn't fight beside women? Does everything has to be contradicted all the time? Is there nothing fucking steady we can rely on for once, fucking...urgh!”

In one move she closed her fist around Furio and Graham, tossed her sleeping bag behind her and fell on her back with a monstrous thud that shook the tiny men and and women before her. Then she dragged up her shirt to expose her belly, dumped the tinies in her hands next to her belly button and just looked up into the beautifully blue sky.

“I can't even right now!” She swore, sighing.

Laura couldn't help it, she started laughing so hard that she had to plop on her arse beside her and wipe tears from her eyes with the hand that still held the priestess inside it.

“What is there to laugh about, evil demon!?” The armoured worm roared.

“Fuck off!” Laura managed through a fit of giggles, unable to see anything. “Here.”

She opened her hand to show her captive.

“Hey,” she tried to calm herself, “look, they're fighting right beside women, you little, stupid thing. You could have gone with them and be happy, but no, you had to stick your stupid sword in my skin, hahaha!”

“Ah, beautiful.” She finally managed at last, wiping the last happy tears away. “Here, I haven't harmed her I think. She's yours.”

It didn't make sense. It didn't have to. This was all too irrational to begin with. She dumped the Mad Lioness before the tiny force and shrugged.

The two little armoured men looked at each other, and looked so much alike that they had to be brothers.

“We, uh, thank you!” One of them said bewilderedly and that almost threw Laura back into laughter. She had to fight it because her sides were hurting bad.

They were all helpless, even Furio, and most of all the little lioness. She looked around in complete and utter terror, disarmed, and not only for her missing weapons. Laura felt like restoring some sense.

“Who are you, my lords?” She asked courteously, struggling hard to be serious.

“Uh...” The knight grumbled. “I am Sir Piet of Lyckmoor. This is my elder brother, Sir Rickard.”

The younger was a little fatter than the elder, Laura saw, sporting a slight double chin and puffy cheeks, coarse with stubble. The elder had a dark brown moustache and chin beard, like a combination of Lord Esindion and King Andarion between them. Both their noses were broad beaks, their foreheads bulgy in exactly the same places and their bushy eyebrows might as well have been copied and pasted the way they looked.

“Rondra with you, Sirs.” Laura bowed in her earthy seat, barely able to keep it straight. “I am Laura the Peaceloving and this here is Janna the giant...Jellyfish.”

She chuckled and gave Janna's knee a friendly ruffle but was only able to produce another frustrated moan.

“I would have you know that what ever you thought to see was only the result of the little lioness actions.” She added. “She attacked me while I was unarmed and yielding. I only meant to teach her a lesson, that is all. It is beyond me to smite tiny, helpless things such as you.”

“Liar!” The Mad Lioness spat but the knights only gave her weary looks.

“Err, that's not what we heard of Thorwal.” Sir Piet screwed up his puffy face.

Laura brought her hand to her forehead: “Aye, Sir, but can you explain that to me please? The Thorwalsh cross the Ingval, bringing murder, rape and mayhem and yet somehow me, so peaceful in nature as I am, am being blamed for bringing them to justice, in spite of myself.”

That was the wrong way around. Hjalmar Boyfucker had only crossed because Janna and Laura had been downright holocausting his people but Laura was over ninety meters tall and not bound to care about such trivialities.

Piet and Rickard exchanged another look.

“Uh, you speak truly.” Piet said. “The Thorwalsh burned our village and slew many of our folk. They tried to burn our holdfast as well, but we are used to attacks here on the river and it was made of stone that would not burn. Nonetheless, they beleaguered us and meant to starve us out, only fleeing when they heard and saw you.”

That could only mean that the holdfast was over there in the patch of forest. Laura found it an odd place to choose.

“They ran as though they had seen Rondra herself, coming to right them.” The knight went on. “Imagine our surprise when we saw you holding her. We thought it a sign. My apologies for the misunderstanding, Laura the Peaceloving.”

He nodded to the Mad Lioness, clutching at her surcoat with empty fists. This guy wasn't half bad, Laura reflected. She liked him. He seemed understandably unnerved by the presence of the two titanic behemoths whose behaviour he had no chance of comprehending, but that was nothing against the frightened quivering of the peasant women in his company. Looking at them made Laura a little hungry again, in more than one regard.

“I was wroth with her,” she said, “though rousing my anger is difficult. She forsook her own virtues by attacking me and that vexed me more then it should have, I suppose.”

The Mad Lioness shot her a most angry glance but said nothing, only flaring her nostrils again.

Sir Piet held out a thick, hairy hand: “She is well known for that. It might even be why most love her so. His grace, our king, can me smug, right up cunt and she always drives him sheer mad. Foiled many a foolish plan the mad had that way, or so I'm told.”

Laura sensed that he was growing bolder and she didn't like it. On the other hand, she shared his opinion.

“King Andarion is at Salza.” She offered. “You and your folk should go there.”

Piet inclined his head: “We would, but our lord father took an arrow and is too unstable to move. We must remain at our holdfast, guard him and pray to Peraine that he gets better.”

“I cannot promise you anything, Sir. But if we encounter the Thorwalsh on our way we may inflict some revenge on your behalf.”

“For that we would be most grateful.” He replied and silent Rickard nodded.

That was it, all he said and would say. Laura glanced back at Furio and Graham, the younger sitting with his chin resting in his palm and the older smoking grumpily at his pipe. Janna had her eyes closed, waiting for it all to be over. Mental games were not Janna's strong-suit, never had been.

“I wasn't finished.” Laura lied, turning back. “I need something of you as well. Sir, it is very easy to mistake us for evil creatures. Our peacefulness is not written upon our heads and even if it were most folk cannot read now, can they.”

“Uh, that is so.” Piet grumbled insecurely, giving a dry, nervous laugh.

“Having this influential priestess spreading lies about us, telling the good people wide and far that we are demon monsters or such like, such as you yourself seemed to believe when first laying eyes on us as well, simply will not do.”

Piet chewed on the inside of his thick, round cheek.

“I see.” He finally said. “So, you want us to take her into custody, is that it?”

“You will not take me into custody!” The priestess snapped, finally having found her words again and what she had held back was all spilling out now. “Fat oaf! You had the right of it when you called them demons! They are evil creatures, nothing good about them! Draw your sword and join me in fighting them if you have any shred of honour! It is your duty, yours as well, Sir Rickard!”

Sir Rickard only looked at his brother who laughed, a real one this time: “Haha, hey! There she is and I can almost feel the pain inside my head already. Laura the Peaceloving, we cannot do this thing. It is neither appropriate for my station nor within my ability to contain this beast.”

'You bold fucker.' Laura thought angrily. So close she had come to turning the thing around. The realization she felt might be precisely the one Furio had come to, she realized, which was why he had decided that the Mad Lioness was not worth the trouble.

Janna sat up beside her, catching Furio and Graham in her hand.

“Nice try.” She acknowledged. “I think I get it now.”

Was it lost though, Laura thought bitterly. If only she could call a timeout and talk this over privily with Furio and Janna. But as it stood, she could only converse with Janna in English and apparently even that was suspicious.

“We should teach Furio some English.” She proclaimed nonetheless.

“Huh?” Janna made tiredly.

“So that we can conspire and adjust our lies whenever we have to, like now. This is folly.”

“This is folly?” Janna echoed, estranged. “You're speaking English and yet you sound like all medieval-local shit.”

“Gazing into the abyss, fuck me.” Laura sighed. Some smart guy with a really epic moustache had said something like that once she remembered from one of her classes.

Janna scratched her head: “Yeah. Besides, are you sure? He's gonna be able to understand all we say once he's learned, and that's, like, going to take forever.”

“Steve and Christina are going to have their hands full then.” Laura said. “In the mean time we're gonna take Graham and a bunch of maps, smash some places, whatever. Furio needs a break anyway. Look at him.”

“And right now I guess we'll have smash these first, huh?” Janna cut in, nodding at the tiny people, flustered at their sudden incomprehensible exchange. Laura couldn't tell if she even gave a care to her plans. Plans, plans, plans. Plans were stupid anyway.

“What evil are you hatching now?!” The priestess roared. “What is it you do not want us to know?!”

“We are discussing whether or not we should murder you all.” Laura explained calmly.

She turned to Janna: “I claim dibs on the lioness. I need something in between my legs and if it isn't you then I'd rather have the little feisty one.”

“Sure.” Janna shrugged. “If you want we can fuck her to death together.”

Now that was a splendid idea. Even without understanding the last exchange the tiny faces turned pale all at once. Steel was drawn and puny, little hands tightened on the useless weapons they were holding, even while minuscule feet were shuffling backwards.

“Wanna do it now?” Laura asked.

Janna gave the scene an enchanted look and licked her lips.

“Priestess for later.” She said. “I can't wait to feed you some of those peasant girls.”

The Mad Lioness was screaming bloody murder. She was also shouting for a sword. Before she could get one Janna grasped her, freed her other hand and bent the priestess' right foot until something snapped in there, judging by the screams. Then she put her beside Furio and Graham on the ground to further thwart an escape before she could try one.

“L...Laura the Peaceloving!” Sir Piet urged in terror. “I do not understand!”

Laura came towards him and the others on all fours like a tiger stalking mice.

“Oh, I'm so loving of peace, Sir.” She husked, plucking Rickard right from his side and squishing him in between her fingers. “I just crushed your brother.”

“Noo!” He screamed, stopped moving backwards and fell to his knees instead.

The sword was on his armoured knee, hanging loosely. Piet was not so stupid as to believe that he could fight his ascending doom.

“Oh!” Janna started to rise. “Their father, where's that holdfast?”

Laura pointed and Janna ran giddily.

“No, not my lord father, please!” The knight begged, watching Janna first clean the trees away and then grinningly standing over the tiny, box-shaped stone building with crenels at the top.

“We can simply crush you, all of you.” Laura pondered aloud. “There's nothing to it and it's a lot of fun. Thinking about it, the priestess is not so stupid, really.”

“No!”

Janna's heavy ass came down as her knees buckled. It looked grotesquely like a wrestling move, only Laura did not know enough about the sport to be the judge of that. The result was not staged though, the building crumbled and flattened all at once along with anyone unfortunate enough to be inside.

“Does that make you a lord now?” Laura asked innocently.

The body of his elder brother was on the ground, crushed and received another obliteration under Laura's carefully placed knee.

Sir Piet was crying, his people already ten meters away. Laura just crawled over him, making sure he died, run over by one of her dragging feet so that he couldn't harm Furio or Graham at her rear.

Then it was playtime.