The Green Men fled, most of the survivors back across the bridge. I couldn't help but feel that Fort Albany would have been more effective had it been built on the opposite bank, but the river marked the edge of what was accepted as Boston territory, and long ago had been constrained to this side by a forgotten treaty.

No small portion of the mob of Green Men fled deeper into our territory. Other bands had scattered up the course of the river.

I needed to return to Boston. Enki had fled from me when I asked what my task was to be. I had no doubt it would return soon, having played whatever game it was playing, but for now I was free to see to my duties to the city.

We had slaughtered more than 10,000 of the enemy in the rout, but that meant 30,000 were still potentially in the vicinity. We needed a greater sense of the numbers they wielded, but I had the sense that 10,000 was only a sliver of the grand horde that Danefer had gathered around Buffalo.

I left instructions with the governor of the Fort—really a town that had long spilled out of its limits. The bridge needed to be fortified, and quickly. I was promised that teams would start immediately. The governor, a man named Albert Oakcrest, a cousin of Cornelius, seemed a kind-hearted and gentle man. He had overseen Albany prospering as a logging town, benefitting from the trade that mosied along the river. But his was not the time for kindness. Our existence depended on holding the Fort. He was left aghast when I told him the homes and businesses that had been constructed beyond the wall would have to be razed. I did not leave that instruction with an easy heart.

I itched to return to Boston. I had plans in motion, and the boldness and suddenness of the assault had only served to fuel my intentions. Enki would want my time soon, and there was no telling when the action here would reignite. If I wanted to progress my own schemes, then I had no time to waste.

Lord Farseer had ridden with us. He could be left to take control of the Fort from Albert Oakcrest. I didn't doubt the man's ruthlessness, but I had little faith in his competence. There was a better option. But I loathed it.

I stood by the river, watching the broad deep water sweeping past me. I absently stroked the slight bulge in the armor on my forearm, where the relic protruded. Danefer and Joel had long preyed on my mind. They had done what few could. Their long careers had afforded them the gaudy wealth needed to acquire enough relics to make themselves comparable to a Griidlord—of lower level, at least. Danefer had been too much for me when we dueled in the Greenman camp. That seemed so long ago. I was twice as strong now. If we met again, the tables would be reversed. He couldn't threaten me as he had. But he wouldn't be easy meat.

It had come to me that I too had gaudy wealth. An empire that repaired itself and grew. I was even now waiting on further reports to inform me of the true scale of my wealth. I had never really considered it. All I had cared about was that I had enough money not to think about money. But the threat of the conflict, the struggles of the Falling, these things had set me to wondering about what kind of power that wealth could imbue.

I heard the feet approaching from behind, the rattle of armor. I didn't turn. Maybe it was obnoxious, wielding my power of command over him. Maybe it was distasteful. But, honestly, I didn't want to greet him. I wanted to use him and limit our interactions to just that.

"You called for me?" The voice was not the petulant one I had expected. If anything, it sounded mocking.

Sighing, I turned to face him.

Lance stood, robed in haughtiness, his eyes still seeming to look down on me, to measure me and find me lacking. I clenched my jaw. I was the Sword. Not just that, but now at Level 38 I was a considerable Griidlord indeed. Many never exceeded level 30.

I said, "I want to give you command of the defense of Albany."

He blinked. He blinked again, unable to guard his surprise. "Is that so?"

"I don't like you, Lance. You don't like me. You can call me Shopkeep all you want, frankly, I don't care. I've killed Griidlords. Won Flows. I've got nothing left to prove. And you, asshole though you may be, are a ruthless and egotistically motivated bastard…"

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He cocked an eyebrow, scorning me still, somehow.

"…and that's exactly what we need here."

He rolled his eyes. "I suppose you'll have instructions then."

He was being given a position of command. He was in his first year, and I was gifting him this honor, and still he couldn't—

My tone was flat. "Yes. Albert's a nice guy. He needs to clear the structures near the bridge, to take the cover away. He means to, he knows it's important. But some poor merchant will beseech him, some lonely widow will beg to preserve the house she raised her children in, and he'll cave. Then he'll cave again, and again. Next thing the Green Men will be back and surrounding the Fort like last time. You need to make sure that doesn't happen."

He tossed his head, barely seeming to pay attention to me. I could have reprimanded him. Fuck, I could have slapped him to the ground for his display. But that's what he wanted. He wanted to bother me. He wanted me to show it.

I refused.

"The bands that escaped within our territory need to be hunted down."

"Obviously…"

"This river is deep and wide, but it's crossable with rafts. It needs to be patrolled."

"Mmmhmmm."

Maybe he didn't like taking orders. I swelled a little, I am ashamed to say, at the thought that he wasn't trying to get to me, but was trying to hide how much I was getting to him.

"There are no Foot-relics here. It's pigeons and couriers if you need to send details. Signal fires for really big stuff."

"Shopkeeper, I know this. Not all of our educations were centred around the price of commodities. I know how this works."

I suppressed the urge to rise to it. I could have demanded he use my title, that he respect me, that he show deference. But that's what he wanted. I saw it visibly irk him when I just continued, "Farseer will need to come back with me. He outranks you, and it will be messy if I leave him here while giving you command. I'll massage his ego and tell him he's needed for War Council."

Lance said, "He's actually my uncle through marriage."

"I'm supposed to give a fuck?"

"Just that that's the right approach. Your merchant's cunning is coming to use. The man's an asshole."

"Takes one to know one."

It wasn't the ribbing of comrades. I meant it. My words carried that meaning. He only glared back with a stare that screamed darker thoughts than that.

I said, "Well, that's enough. I'm leaving most of the troops, all of the cavalry. If you have missives, get to me in the next twenty minutes, because I'll be gone."

I stared at him. He stood still. He was in my path and he knew it. I mightn't have risen to his bait, but I sure as shit wasn't about to walk around him. He was in my path.

He didn't move. Just stood there, arms loose, cape fluttering slightly in the wind off the river, expression unreadable save for the twist at one corner of his mouth. Daring me. Daring me to do something.

I didn't ignite POWER. I didn't flex any of my abilities. I didn't even twitch. I stepped forward. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just walked. And when I reached him, I didn't stop. I kept walking. Right at him. Into him. He broke first. A quarter step, just a lean to the side, but that was all it took. He gave ground. His shoulder dipped, ever so slightly, to avoid mine. It was barely visible. But I felt it. And he knew I felt it.

I didn't slow. I didn't look back. Didn't smirk. Didn't acknowledge the victory.

Because that was the victory.

As I strode back toward the Fort, Enki came back to me. Sooo... I'm still coordinating everybody's schedules. Not everyone is bound by oath to come when I call, as you are. Kudos for that, most accommodating. Not everybody is being quite so fucking helpful, but we'll have a schedule very shortly.

My brow arched, though it couldn't see me. Everybody?

Enki said, My A-Team. This isn't a one-man operation, kiddo. It's time to get the All-Stars together. Avengers Assemble. Voltron Unite. Transform and roll out. All the good stuff. It's going to be like the Justice League but with more aristocratic entitlement.

I thought, Who the hell else is getting roped into this? Morningstar? What the hell could you need done that he couldn't do on his own?

Kiddo. Kiddo. Babe. You're almost Level 40. Sure, Pyracon could crush you under his heel as easily as you could squash Lord Fartsalot back there, but you bring a lot to the table now. A hell of a lot. And what I need help with... well, let's just say Morningstar doesn't guarantee getting the job done. He's my heaviest hitter, but Charlie needs all his angels for this one.

How long do I have? I have shit to do. We've got a war going on, in case you haven't noticed.

Enki was clearly annoyed. Just as soon as I wrangle all those fucking egos and tie them down. Not long. I can't last if they get going soon. I'll come apart at the seams, I'll lose my fucking mind—

Its voice grew bestial, demonic. If this doesn't stop soon, I'LL JUST TEAR IT ALL DOWN... anything for a little peace, you know?

I tried not to react, but the outburst was jarring. How long then? I have a lot on my plate.

Enki said, It doesn't matter. When I call, you come. You promised. I can't tell a lie, and I can't abide being lied to. You want my intel, don't you? Want to get through those doors? I swear, if you don't move the second I get the rest of the A-Team together, that deal is off. You wouldn't want that, would you?

It was meant to be a threat. It was meant to cow me. But I could only smile. The doors were the cherry. The intel was the cake.

I could win my war with that intel.

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