She laughed softly and genuinely at me. It wasn't cruel or mocking. It was just a genuine burst of laughter, appropriate to the preposterousness of what I had just said.

I said, "Why not?"

She said, "Those levels really are going to your head."

I said, "You said you believed I could do anything."

She nodded. "And I do. But… where would you start? It's so big. It's crazy."

I raised my arms expansively. "What have you been hoping to achieve with the Blood? Whatever they see as their end goal seems pretty ridiculously huge. I'll tell you where we start. With Buffalo. I know Balthazar already intends to take the city as a vassal of Boston. He's got ambition, but he's stretched himself thin. He needs me. I can use him right back."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are we already at the stage of our relationship where we share classified military secrets?"

I shrugged and screwed my lips into an embarrassed smile, glancing away. "I guess there are reasons why this kind of thing is so prohibited… it doesn't matter. Right now, I don't care. I'm already sick of spinning my wheels and facing down centuries of killing and watching friends die until I'm so numb I can't feel, or until my mind dissolves with the madness."

She leaned back against the tree and stared up at the canopy above. I withdrew into my own thoughts. I was suddenly embarrassed at voicing such ambitions. Maybe my ego had swollen beyond my ability to control it. I felt like the centre of the universe—Balthazar's praise, my historic ascension through the levels, Enki's favourite, Fael's target. Too long I had been driven along on the winds of the events and characters around me. I felt a surging compulsion to take the reins of my life squarely in my own hands.

After a while she said, "Do you have a plan? Something more substantial than 'your city wants to conquer another city and it might as well be for the better'?"

I nodded. "There are three powers in Boston that can make this happen. Balthazar controls the city more completely than any Lord Supreme before him, especially with wartime powers. I have political sway, especially with the people, and I've got as much money as some cities. And Dirk—he can connect us with the Blood. If the Blood can motivate the people, spread the word, then we'll have an army."

She said, "The other cities won't like it. You could face a coalition."

I snorted. "They've stood by while Buffalo fell into madness. That's posturing. And if it's not, then we'll face that when we face it. I beat most of them during the Falling. I can do it again."

She laughed again. "What's come over you? This is madness."

Her doubt pricked me and I said, "I'm… I'm sorry…"

She chuckled sweetly, moving closer to me, touching my chest. "Don't apologize. I love it. It's so risky. So dangerous…"

As she said the word dangerous, her pupils pulsed, her gaze flashing with desire. Then her face sobered, and she spoke with a greater seriousness than I was accustomed to hearing from her.

"And it's right. You know where I came from. You know the Green Men have courted me, the Blood too. You know I want to see things changed, and I'll risk anything to break the chains that bind us all in this mad trap. I'm not popular amongst my teammates, in my city. I'm already taking these risks with you. It could all fall down for me in a moment, but you have things better. I don't like the idea of you losing it all."

I stepped forward, her hands on my chest parting to slip around me. My arms fell over her shoulders and pulled her to me. Our lips met, not with the same crashing urgency as our previous meetings, but with an inevitable firmness, like continents gliding into each other. When I released the kiss I looked down into her face and said, "Then we won't lose."

Suddenly the wind was not just the peaceful rustling it had been moments before. Our cocoon was penetrated by the sounds of distant horns.

She looked at me. "An attack?"

I nodded, grimness settling on me like a familiar cloak.

She said, "I'd go with you if I could."

I said, "I know. But go, fast, before you're seen."

She grabbed me by the nape of the neck and pulled me into another kiss. Then, "I think I like this version of the Blood Prince. But don't act rashly. We can figure this out together."

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Then she was gone, and I was moving myself, exploding from the darkness of the trees in the direction of the city. The horns came louder as I sheathed my head within the helm and the sensory powers of the suit rushed back to me.

I grabbed the Footfield and streaked towards the sound of the horns, blowing from the walls of my city.

When I reached the gates, I found a frenzy of action. Men were lining up by the thousands, sprinting and stumbling, parade-ground solemnity abandoned. Balthazar was mounted, pointing and shouting. A formation of knights, Lance at their lead, trotted past. Olaf stood near Balthazar. The other Griidlords were not to be seen.

"What's happened?" I shouted as I came to a halt.

Olaf opened his mouth to speak, but Balthazar wheeled his horse, his words coming rapidly but in perfect concert. "Buffalo moved on us faster than we expected. I'll credit them for being more organized than I anticipated, but they'll suffer because I prepared for worse. They've hit Castle Chowwick. Reports are that they've sent three of their Griidlords in the assault."

I felt more excitement than dread. "Then let's move."

Balthazar shook his head. "No. That's dealt with. We've raised the Order in the castle. They'll have big guns to defend themselves, and Tara, Alya, and Magneblade are already on the move with most of our knights."

I was flustered. I felt the urgency to back them up. I felt the hunger to finally lash out at Buffalo. But I considered Olaf's presence, the gathered forces. Balthazar was preempting something. I said, "It's a feint?"

He said, "I expect so. Reports say they have their Arrow with them, so that probably means your friend Perdinger is present. I know you want him, but we don't have time. He was a piddly suit before you took his hand. The force I've sent will push them off if they haven't already withdrawn."

I said, "So where's the main thrust?"

He said, "I'll wager on Fort Albany."

I nodded. Fort Albany stood on the western border of the territory, controlling the largest bridge over the Hudson. The river itself marked our borders approximately. Seizing the site would give easy access to move forces across the Hudson and provide an excellent staging ground for further invasion.

I thought of Danefer. He had an ego complex of his own. Whatever his ultimate goals were, he saw himself as some kind of messiah, destined and driven to follow his plans to the end. He would retain the Scepter in Buffalo, to protect himself. Besides all of that, he was ancient and probably tied to ancient practices. Employing the Scepter in the field was a new concept.

I said, "They'll only have one suit there."

Balthazar nodded. "That's what I expect. Even if it's their Axe, you and Olaf can outmatch it. Their greatest strength is the horde of their numbers, but they won't have been able to move that colossal force to Albany without our knowing. If you can take these forces with you and win the balance of the suits on the field, then it will be a slaughter. This was the mistake I promised you. This is our first chance to whittle them down. This is war, Tiberius—don't let them yield without taking a head or taking a prisoner."

I felt my vision darken with brutal certainty. "Oh, don't worry. I won't."

The play we made was not a comfortable one. Yes, Olaf and I were deployed together, the Sword and the Shield, each strong to the other's type disadvantage. A balanced pairing. And we'd fought well together before, destroying the Golem that had so easily killed Tacita. But our counterattack was intended to be a blow. We didn't move to defend Fort Albany—we moved to cull the forces mounted against her. So we divided our forces, using two Footfields to cover the miles and deliver our army in a pincer on either side of the fort. With the Order in the fort raised by the Tower, it would create a nightmare for any force gathered against her. High Order guns would fire from the fort, while our shock troops encircled. The nervousness of the ploy came in the separation between Olaf and me. For a few minutes at the start of the battle, we would be separated. Once each of our halves of the army were deployed, we would be free to rotate and join our strengths again.

We marched hard. I drove the men in my formation as fast as I could, thousands of feet churning the ground. A merchant convoy might take two hours to reach Fort Albany under Footfield—we made the journey in little over one.

My blood boiled with excitement. At last I could shed the impotence that had plagued me since Lauren's death. My ire centered on Perdinger, but in sheltering him, all of Buffalo had become a hated enemy to me.

I arrived on the south side of the fort, not far from the eastern shore of the Hudson. The land sloped gently up from the river here, giving some small elevation advantage over the fort and a marginal view of the situation below.

Balthazar had been right. A force was gathering below, encircling the fort. The cannons belched from the walls, exploding the ground around the attacking host. Low Order siege weapons massed among the thousands of men surrounding the walls, but already many lay shattered or burning from the high Order weapons in the fort. It seemed—even without us—the assault may have failed.

Rifles rattled from the ramparts of the fort. Albany was outside of the line of sight of the Tower. It was a simple matter to raise Order levels within the fort. It would have been beyond useful to be able to raise Order where our soldiers gathered on the hills, giving us firearms against their spears, but there was no way to coordinate it.

The lords in my host shouted and men marched. Their voices and the drone of thousands of feet were a faint hum to my distracted mind. I was a hound choking itself with eagerness to be free of the leash. I stared beyond the fort and the rattles and booms of battle, looking for Olaf. I saw the wink of his Footfield on the rise some miles north and took a step, following the plan to join him.

I skirted the fort, expecting to meet Olaf on the eastern side of the fort where we would begin hunting the Griidlord that had ferried the Buffalo army here. Within a minute, I felt the hum of an approaching Footfield. Yes, it was likely Olaf, but this was a battlefield and assumptions cost lives. I readied myself as the field approached.

It came damned close before it shut off. What stepped out of the field was not Olaf. Nor was it a single lord from Buffalo.

I felt cold concern lance my heart as I found myself face to face—and on my own—before three suits.

I had time to utter, "How?" before they were on me.

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