A Silent Game of Spies

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She stalked the field and threw herself onto her horse. Behind her, Hewart’s forces were chaotic and disorganized. She actually thought better of the man, given his penchant for control and thorough domination.

Myrischka had allowed the man time to meet in honor of the ridiculous Ambsellon-Ormon Alliance, but he had sent her an Ambassador. She had diplomats aplenty. That act on his part only told her that he was scared to treat with her. Well, Hewart’s time had come and gone and now Myrischka was leaving.

She would stay longer but the little Western Queen now had an infusion of Eastern Alliance troops. Smart girl, thought Myrischka, allying with the East.

Standing and surveilling from her rocky point, all she had seen over Hewart’s men was a sea of Eastern troops. Banners from all across the East – as far south as Hardewold, even Ghiverny had sent men. Which delighted Myrischka, for she had troops invading Ghiverny as she stood here in Clemongard. The fewer Ghivern troops on Eastern soil, the better. Romeny, of course, had sent men, as had Delsynth, and even the Stafford Spears were well represented. At least thirty-five thousand men had joined the fight, and Myrischka had no reason to believe that more Eastern Alliance men were not stationed elsewhere in Clemongard, or that they had not yet arrived.

Therefore, let Hewart and his men stay and fight this foe that had doubled in number. It had never been her intention to stay and fight, only to show her face behind him that she might convince him to attack Clemongard.

Now that his troops were distracted and exhausted, Myrischka was now plugging up the Rockdale pass and, with her own men, turning north toward Cliff Watch North. They would circle around the Mourning Mountains and attack Ambsellon now.

There had been an interesting moment, however, when she had laid eyes on who could only have been the Queen of Clemongard. Yesterday, in her scope, just as Myrischka determined that the new soldiers arriving were indeed Eastern Alliance, she had seen the young Queen. And indeed, a cleaver hung from her waist, just as Myrischka had heard. She looked strong and proud, wearing armor and ringmail. Cheeky little queen. Myrischka could not help but admire the girl, for she was only a girl. But soon enough, Clemongard would be hers. As soon as Myrischka left to take over Ambsellon, the rest of her men in the Riverlands would close in on Hewart’s men and the Mourning Mountains….

Clemongard. Ambsellon. Ghiverny.

Myrischka breathed in a deep breath of satisfaction.

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