"We've received news that Ravennisse has captured many cities near Maplemaw's Northwest border and that Maplemaw citizens are being taken as prisoners, treated as slaves in Ravennisse. Both countries are asking for supplies, and it would be beneficial to get on their good sides..."

My hand was under my chin, attempting to prop my head to prevent sleep. The king had called for an emergency meeting just as the day was winding down. It had to be close to midnight by now, and we had been discussing the same topics for hours.

Unsurprisingly, most of the attendees were falling asleep as I was. I was shocked that George had decided to attend this meeting, and even more shocked that he looked to be alert. I couldn't tell as he had his visor down, but it would be like him to keep the visor down, hiding his sleeping face.

"Captain Hart," the advisor who had been speaking, turned to address George, making him sit up straight in surprise. "You were assigned to lead quadrant four to Oriad's Southern border earlier this week. Did you see any unusual activity, especially regarding the current war between Ravennisse and Maplemaw?"

George shook his head, yet the advisor persisted. "Can you elaborate on that answer, Captain Hart?" Once again, George shook his head. That was odd. I would have expected him to give a straight answer. "Are you completely sure? There should have surely-"

"Are you blind? I'm saying-" 'George' stopped speaking. The person in his armor wasn't George. Judging by the feminine voice I was hearing, my thoughts wandered to his sister whom I had met in the tavern a few nights back.

"Say, why don't you stop pretending to be your brother, Ivrette?" I spoke, a smug grin starting to work up my face.

Ivrette, for I knew it had to be her now, turned to face me, sitting even straighter and alert.

I shot her a look, my eyebrows raising slightly while my face angled downward. Slumping in defeat, she lifted the visor, those striking blue eyes meeting mine once again. She didn't look defeated, but rather angry.

The mood in the room had changed, everyone shooting Ivrette dirty looks. Sneaking into the meetings was already a crime that got you sent to the dungeons, but I didn't want to imagine the consequences for a woman being caught.

"Y-you're a woman," the advisor sputtered out, his face contorting in confusion and disgust.

"So what if I'm a woman? Why shan't a woman attend the meetings?"

"Women aren't allowed in the army for a reason," a new voice spoke. The King's. Looking at him, his eyebrows were furrowed, complimenting his frown of irritation. "They are weak, feeble creatures that only have one purpose. Reproduction." I had pushed out of my seat and was swiftly walking toward Ivrette, hoping to lead her out of the room before the situation escalated. "Women are half as capable as men, and will never be allowed in the army, and certainly not at war meetings. You should be executed for what you heard."

Ivrette looked livid, and I'm sure she would have made a nasty comeback if I hadn't reached her seat, clamping my hand over her mouth from behind. "Don't say it," I told her in a hurried whisper, "it will only make your situation worse."

"General Blackwoode," the advisor turned, addressing me. "Take our... visitor to the dungeons. Her sentence will be determined later."

Giving him a stiff nod, I latched onto Ivrette's wrist, pulling her from her seat and leading her to the door. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room on me, but I made sure not to give any of them satisfaction. Standing straight, my posture didn't falter until I exited the room, the door thudding into place behind me.

Once I was certain there would be no one watching us, I loosened my grip on Ivrette, allowing a sigh to escape. Once my grip loosened, she pulled her wrist from my hand, angrily muttering, "I don't need your help, General."

"Look, I don't like this situation as much as you. I strongly dislike some of the rules the King and his advisors ensure, but I'm in no position to show that. I would suggest that you do the same to save your pretty little neck," I shot back while glancing down the hall to check that no one would come walking.

"Now watch who you're calling 'pretty', handsome." Her tone of disgust effectively communicated my feelings about being called 'handsome'.

Being attractive brought both a blessing and a curse. I often hated how the silly handmaidens gawked at me. I had no intentions to take a wife and certainly didn't want children. "Gods, don't tell me you're one of those ladies," I grumbled out, the little respect I had for Ivrette fading.

"You wish. That lot's so obnoxious. You should hear them during mealtimes or at night," she scoffed, her distaste for some of her peers evident.

"You live in the castle?" I questioned, as that would be a reasonable explanation for recent events.

"Unfortunately, yes. I'm a handmaiden, but I don't like to associate myself with those people."

"They're mad. I won't complain about the times they bring gifts yet-"

"I wonder if they'll ever take the hint."

That was curious. "You spoke what I was about to say," I commented.

"Seems we have the same opinion about them. Don't be flattered, General." Ivrette's tone communicated the end of our conversation.

It was due time. We were about to reach the guarded stairwell descending to the dungeons. Once again, my hand found her wrist, tightening as I led her to the guard. "She was caught sneaking into the war meeting," I informed the guard on duty, my tone becoming rough again. The tone that was reserved when I had to play the role of General. "I've been told to bring her here, and she is to stay until her sentence is determined." Completing that sentence, I extended her wrist to the guard.

Sizing her up for a moment, the guard took a length of rope and bound her hands. "Your job here is done, General."

Nodding, I turned to leave, but as I was about to round the corner, I couldn't help glancing over my shoulder a final time. I saw Ivrette take the final step through the door before it slammed shut.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

"What do you mean by she's in the dungeons?" George exasperatedly spoke.

The two of us were on morning guard duty. It had been hours since I last slept. I had hoped to rest before this, but when the meeting came up the issue with Ivrette surfaced. After the meeting ended, I was already late for my rounds and lethargically striding alongside George.

"She snuck into tonight's war meeting pretending to be you. You already know how that can be punished, and she fought with an advisor about women's rights."

"That girl," George muttered before taking me by my arm, leading me on a different route than what we were meant to patrol.

"Where are we going," I groaned, unhappy with our detour.

"We're getting her out. I can pay the pardon, and with both a captain and general advocating for her, they're likely to let her out."

"But what about our rounds?" I complained, unwilling to stray from our task.

"When was the last time the castle was broken into? And, it's unlikely they'll penetrate the outer walls. It's not like spies from Ravennisse have plans to rob us and kidnap the King. They send messages before events like that."

George had a good point. Even in war times, the castle had never been penetrated, and there was no reason to fear an attack, even with war threats. They were only threats.

George's walking pace had sped up, and I had no choice but to match it. I understood his anxiety to get to Ivrette soon even though I had no siblings. She was somebody he cared deeply about, and the effort he was putting in to protect her was dear.

We had reached the hall that held the dungeon doors. The hallway seemed so long, the guard a speck on the horizon. George was nearly running by this point, and that speck became larger until we finally reached him, my heart thudding in my chest for more reasons than one.

"A few hours ago, my sister was brought into the dungeons for trespassing into the war meeting. Can you take us to see her?" George asked the guard frantically.

Even though he usually seemed irritated by his sister, they were all each other had. Their parents were good people but had passed over a decade ago from illness. His older brothers were soldiers in the army, captains when I was a meager recruit. They were told to be ferocious, and incredibly brave, but had perished in the same battle.

It had been during a time when Ravennisse had declared war on Oriad, looking for more land. That was the first, and last battle of that war, one that was bloody and vicious. The first battle I had fought in. As old monuments fell, new ones rose.

"No can do," the guard's lazy tone broke my thought, "she is to be confined until her trial."

"No. No, please. I'm her only family, you have to let me see her."

"No exceptions," the guard replied in that same tone. He was beginning to get on my nerves.

He hadn't seen me move, and in an instant, was pinned against the wall. One hand held his neck while the other held a dagger, shaken out of my sleeve. "Look here, mate. You either help us here and we move on happily, or you don't help us and I remember you as one who was an ass to me. Which one will it be?"

"Y-you can go through. It's n-no big deal," the guard stammered as a satisfied smirk spread up my face.

"Delightful," I uttered while loosening my grip, and taking a step away from the guard.

He fumbled with his keys for a moment before sliding one into the lock, turning it, and allowing us entry. Holding the door open, he forced an expression of delight while beckoning us entry. "Keep walking down this hall, don't make any turns. The girl's cell is near the end."

George walked in without hesitation, but I stopped to glare at the guard before disappearing behind the door. "She has a name, you know. Ivrette," I nearly growled out. The guard's fright was gratifying.

Entering the stairwell after George, I heard the door slam behind us. If I had to guess, the guard had flung it shut the moment I had entered. The stairwell was dark, the torches few and far between. It smelled of mold and human waste. I doubt anyone cared to clean the dungeons.

My heart twitched for the wasteland that Ivrette had spent the past few hours in. No, not just her. It's disgusting to keep a human in here, she's not different.

"Hey, Graeme, are you sure that you had to be so... intimidating around the guard?" George asked, his voice quieter and lacking its usual jubilance.

"I understand I can be... intimidating at times." I choose my words slowly, hoping not to unearth delicate matters. "Yet, fear is power. If you learn to harness it, you can control anyone."

"Is that your only goal? Power?"

"No, but it can come in good use. How else do you think we could have gotten the guard to budge?"

"Dunno. By threatening him with our status, maybe some more pleading could have swayed him."

"Pettiness won't be tamed with pleading. And, I threatened him, did I not? As I said, fear is power." The further down we descended into the earth, the worse the stench of the dungeons became.

"Still, couldn't you be less harsh?"

"You can't make others fear you if you aren't harsh. I still bear scars from my past because others were harsh to me, and I was young enough to fear them."

"And what would that be? A bad memory?"

Sighing, I raised my hand to my cheek, my finger tracing my scar. The one that ran down the left side of my face, was one of my most recognizable features. Looking at me, George's face blanched as he looked to his feet, ending the discussion.

No one knew the details about how I had obtained my scar, but they knew it was ugly. Anyone could infer that by taking a look at my face. It ran from my temple running across my cheek, ending below my jaw.

The winding staircase ended, and the soft crunch of hay sounded under my boot. Peering down the dungeon hall was hard as torches were not in high company. The odor of the dungeon was so sickening, that I had begun breathing through my mouth to avoid the sour stench.

"Gods, I've got to get her out of here. I don't know how she's withstood it for hours," George muttered as he began taking long strides down the hall.

Silently agreeing, I followed him, taking in my surroundings as we went. I didn't recall the last time I had been in the dungeons and on either side of me, prisoners glanced at us from their cells.

Gaunt eyes and sunken faces sat on the pallets of hay they called beds, their clothes hanging loosely on skinny frames. I felt a surge of warmth toward my plush bed in the castle above. A place that didn't stink of torture and death.

Looking at those faces was almost unbearable. Even for me who had braved the horrors of war with a neutral face. At least then, my fallen companions, the slain enemies wore armor. Their deaths were quick and relatively painless.

The people in the dungeons were forced to sit there day after day, slowly dying from either starvation or hunger. With our quick pace, we arrived at Ivrette's cell soon, George's relief at seeing her evident. His form relaxed slightly as he gripped the cell bars, loudly whispering Ivrette's name.

Walking to his side, I saw a figure curled on the bed, their knees pulled up their head which was in their chest. It took a few moments of George calling her name before the figure stirred, turning to look at us. Even though it had been hours, it looked like Ivrette had spent days in this cell.

Her hair had come undone and there were bits of straw tangled in it and sticking to her clothes. Bags had formed under her eyes, which I was certain weren't there earlier. Her face remained expressionless as she dragged herself to the cell bars, coming as close to us as possible.

I felt my heart beating faster as she neared us–out of worry, of course. The closer she stepped into the dim light, the worse I saw her condition." G-George?" she croaked, her voice a reflection of the time spent in the dungeons, "why are you here? Why is the General with you?" Even in her state, I could feel the revolt in her voice, dampening my mood slightly.

"I'm your way out of here. Treat me with respect, or you can sit here are rot for the next few days." My mouth acted before my mind, and the moment the words left my mouth, I wished that I could rewind time and undo that simple action.

George turned to me in disbelief, his mouth supporting that emotion, but his eyes differed. Anger was brewing in them, anger at the fact that his friend wouldn't allow his sister to escape this hellhole because of a simple remark.

Ivrette's face made my feelings even worse.

One of hurt.

My heart, which had been swinging to a happy melody only moments earlier fell to my stomach, now dancing to a tune of deep regret.

"George, I-Ivrette, I didn't mean for it to come-" I stuttered. I rarely stutter. My speech is always smooth and professional.

"Enough." George's tone was cold. Even if his words couldn't have the same effect as mine, they still held a note of command, and I felt obliged to listen. "Go and do what you were threatening, or, how did you put it? You'll be one that both of us remember. We need time to talk." George indicated finality and privacy, and I had no choice but to comply.

If only I knew what had happened to my emotions.

QOTC: Do you think Ivrette is one of "those ladies" and hides it well, or finds them obnoxious?