The worst enemy we must face are the memories of our own misdeeds.

General Westren - 5989 G.R.

Just below the surface, in a pit created only after removing several of the floor's massive flagstones, Cabbat labored with a purpose. His singular and dedicated focus was on the final remaining loose gear he diligently pounded back into place. Each firm and precise stroke from his hammer changed its position along the shaft by mere fractions of the distance it needed to travel. The repetitive strokes were so rhythmic that they were something only dwarven hands could maintain.

Yet, even as Cabbat tried to lose himself in his work, the dwarf found himself annoyed. The source of his frustration was the ever so slight whisping of soft slippers tapping on still in place sections of the floor and lingering above him. Most would have thought him insane had he spoken of the inconsequential noise, especially considering the ruckus he was generating with his pounding. But only those who did not understand how attuned a dwarf's hearing was would not understand. Which was to say, most people wouldn't.

"I work better," he said, "when I'm not being watched by a hawk."

Lady Noranda, incredulous and impatient, hovered with arms folded. She had only seemingly a simple, yet at the same time incredibly complex question. "How much longer?"

"You did a lot of damage, Sweetheart. You should be lucky I can fix it at all. Devilish tempers and fine dwarven machinery do not mix."

"How much longer?" Her repeated words now came with added bite.

"One more good strike oughta do it." Cabbat pulled the hammer back, wound up and gave the gear as strong of a whack as he could muster. Everything rang and shook as the essential piece slid into final position. "There!"

Was it a perfectly pristine repair job? No. Cabbat didn't have the parts necessary to do that. And to get those parts, he'd have required a small army of his fellow kinsmen working with the original molds and design plans. All of those necessary items were in short supply.

So he improvised. He might not have built this contraption, but he'd spent enough years maintaining it for Lord Hedric that he knew a thing or fifty about it.

To return it to working order required some substantial modifications. Additional gears were fashioned and shoehorned into the device to allow the mechanism to function when the originals were deformed beyond any hope of being salvaged. He'd also installed several new pullies and reweighted over three dozen finely attuned chains that no longer would have worked if left alone after his conversions. Out of necessity, he'd even constructed a new main pendulum to keep time with clockwork precision. The previous one, cracked from unholy forces, was melted down as scrap and repurposed elsewhere within the device.

Climbing out of the hole with a grunt, Cabbat snagged a rope into his grasp. The other end was attached to a chock residing snuggly between two gears near the one he was working on. With a tug, it came free upon his exit and the entire room lurched when the device churned to life once more.

"It's fixed?" Noranda asked. She peered upwards at the various visible parts of the machine. Some moved with obvious speed. Others were so slow that she could only surmise they were functioning.

"Keep your robes on. Just needs calibrating." Cabbat was already taking note of the same items himself, processing mental calculations as to how far off they were from their proper locations. Months of sitting idle required adjustments. He just needed to figure out which ones and how much.

Noting how the timing of every required sound seemed a little too fast, the dwarf proceeded straight to a lever mounted on the floor. It was as tall as he was. Gripping the handle, he squeezed the spring-loaded catch and adjusted the position a hair towards where he stood. Everything from the vibration to the noises of gears chewing together fell into the right rhythm as he reset the lock.

"I should find a new dwarf," Noranda said. Her words growled like those of a tiger waiting for its dinner to stop struggling. "One that wasn't formed from Diur's scat."

"Good luck with that! But be my guest to try. Only one more tweak to make, then you can fry me with a lightning bolt if you like." Cabbat took his time approaching a brass wheel twice as big around as him. Mounted on a shaft sticking out from the wall, it stood out like a sore thumb.

Grabbing hold of it with both hands, and with a grunt, he forced it to move. All the pieces of the celestial puzzle began their slow adjustments to where they should be for the present day.

Three full turns of the wheel later, they were once more in the right location for the new time and date. He stepped back, clapped the dirt and grease off his hands, and double checked his work before proclaiming, "Good as new."

Noranda, still fixated on the dome, admired it. There was a patch where she had blasted the ceiling and the angel who had once annoyed her. The new paint covering the repair was a little mismatched in color, but the overall purpose was once again intact. The Fates were now further along their tracks and approached new destinations. She would return to read them in detail later.

"You've done a good job." Dry, the words that passed from Lady Noranda to the dwarf would have to do for praise.

"I'll keep an eye on it over the next five days. Make sure the tracks and gears are good and greased and you aren't losing any time."

"See that you do. I should return in a couple days. And I expect to see it in absolute perfect order."

Cabat responded to her with a swooping bow. "As you wish, Darling."

Lady Noranda grumbled at the mixture of respect and lack thereof in the exchange and left the dwarf to his device with no further words.

After the Red Witch exited the chamber and the last bit of her crimson robes disappeared around the corner and down the hall, Cabbat too took a moment to fully bask in his achievement of the now repaired device.

From his pocket, he pulled out a single brass gear. The object fit neatly into the palm of his hand, and, regarding it, he smiled.

Cassandra's heart lurched upon returning to her tent. Lady Noranda was there, hunched over her table covered with maps and various parchments filled with intelligence reports. The unexpected sight of her, casually standing there, caused the general pause.

No one had informed her that Lady Noranda was here, which meant she'd arrived in secret and through some unnatural means. The woman in red looked up at the general as she entered and smiled. "Greetings," was all she said.

The air inside the tent was only slightly warmer than outside. All it prevented was the added chill from the wind. But it was enough to make a welcome difference.

"Honestly?" Cassandra replied. "I really wish you'd learn to use a door sometimes. Like a normal person."

Noranda gave a sly smile in response to the request. "I didn't want to cause a commotion among the soldiers."

"No. Just give me a heart attack, apparently."

The fallen angel regarded the young woman, noticing the dark bags beneath her eyes. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Not well," Cassandra admitted, pacing over to the same table to stand opposite Lady Noranda and resume reviewing the cache of information.

"What troubles you?"

"Things." Cassandra's response was purposeful and short. "And stuff."

Like ghosts trying to haunt her, she had constant visions of both Deran and her uncle attacking her attempts at sleep. The weakness she felt because of them caused a tumult inside her. Even though death was something she'd been accustomed to for so long, for some reason, these two stuck with her beyond the mere moments they occurred.

The more she sought an explanation, the greater her inability to sleep became. If she looked harder, and wanted to see it, she might have noticed that the problem she was now incurring swirled around guilt. But guilt would mean weakness, and she wasn't about to show any such thing.

"I heard your pet found the cleric." The dryness of the statement contained so much of Cassandra's weariness.

"He did. We now know where she is." Noranda tapped her finger on the map. "Here."

Cassandra noted the location. It was north by a considerable distance from where she and her troops were currently encamped, fighting small skirmishes against pockets of resistance and making less progress than she would have liked. She then said, "I hear he didn't fare too well."

"He is serving his purpose. Like a bloodhound to the hunter. But, for now, I've sent him to sew chaos elsewhere."

"I swear that since Ishenvol, the rebels have been growing in number." There was no way for Cassandra to hide the distaste behind her words. "I would have thought a display of force like that by you would have made every last one of them slink back into their slimy little mud holes."

"Crush them now, rather than allow them to hide and one day rise again. Have you finished interrogating the remaining elven prisoners?"

"We have. The last were executed a week ago. They were bogging down our forces in the west, so I had my men finish up with them and disposed of their dead weight. Stubborn little bastards. But I got what we needed. My sister and the First Daughter did indeed return to Fimmirra. Just before we attacked. And as we suspected."

Noranda nodded. "I believe finding one means we will find the other as well."

"Agreed." Cassandra stripped off her gloves and removed her swords, lying them across the table and the largest map there. It displayed the entire western half of the continent and the extents of the Empire.

"Do you believe that your sister will come so easily?"

"No." Cassandra's concession came out with a heavy breath. "And I can only guess what lies our uncle told her. I do not expect her simply to lay down and surrender. And for that, I will overlook the use of necessary force to apprehend her. They'll have to go east, if they're thinking about recovering the Tear of Earoni. And I suspect they are. Either over land or by ship."

"All ports under Imperial control are locked down, per your orders. There's nothing between the western edge of the Empire and the other side of the Coralen Mountains." Noranda pointed to the ominous barrier on one of the maps. "Since beyond the mountains are dwarven lands? It would be logical to assume they will make harbor in the Borderlands and head east from there."

Noranda followed up her assessment by changing her attention to the sheathed sabers now lying on the table. The former owner of the blades had made the mistake of pushing the young woman who now led Lord Hedric's armies. He learned the hard way that she was not one to be pushed.

"Is this a friendly visit, or have you come on business?" Cassandra asked.

The tone drew Noranda's attention away from the swords and to the young woman trying even harder to look busy. "We hardly talk anymore. I do rather miss our conversations."

"When I became an officer in the army," Cassandra reminded, "our time became short."

"Yes, that is true. And you've risen through the ranks rather quickly. All that hard work and dedication does tend to devour time. We used to share so much, and I miss those days."

"I'm truly touched."

There was a ring to the words that caused Noranda a bit of pause. "If you're being sarcastic, I suppose I should feel hurt at that."

"Do you?"

"Yes. I thought there was at least something between us, Cassandra. Perhaps not quite on the level of mother-daughter, but something close."

"I'll always be grateful to you for all that you've done." Cassandra finally allowed herself to slump forward, propped up only by her arms on the table. She was losing the battle against her growing exhaustion. "I know that all these years Hedric would have liked nothing better than to have me dead and that you were the one that stopped him." Cassandra added after a moment. "Thanks," she added as an afterthought.

"Thanks? Is that all those years were worth?" Noranda reached out to grab Cassandra's wrist to draw her eyes towards her. Her grip was firm but not painful. She could see the weariness in the general's eyes even more clearly. "Enough for tonight. In the morning, you will relinquish some of your duties to those below you. Beautiful young ladies, even generals with vendettas, need rest and time to themselves."

Cassandra snatched her arm away. "There is much work to be done, and I still don't fully trust all those who serve under me. Lord Hedric seems to think it's wise to at least keep some of General Kayzar's former allies in positions of power. Things would be much easier if they were removed."

"You're the one with the sword," Noranda reminded, "the one with the power. Why don't you just take care of them?"

Cassandra took a second to think about that. It was not the first time she had that thought herself. "Because they're more capable than anyone that I could replace them with."

Noranda smiled. "That is a sign of maturing in your ability to be a leader, I believe."

"Are you saying I was undeveloped as a commander before?" Cassandra said with a snap to her reply.

"If someone was a threat to you, or you even suspected them of being such? You would have killed them without a second thought. Perhaps you've finally learned that merely a show of force can be just as effective as exerting that force."

"Rest assured, if I find someone more capable in my ranks that I can trust, those that are dissidents will be dealt with."

"As is only right." The dark woman's smile deepened. "I came to tell you I am heading north to take care of this cleric once and for all."

"I will prepare my forces—"

"No. Do not rush north. Do not become reckless. I will do this alone."

Cassandra only stared with slow blinks at Lady Noranda and her request. Then replied, "If that is your wish?"

"It is. But I also have one other."

"Which is?"

Noranda strode around the table to where Cassandra stood, the general watching her every step of the way. Once at her side, Noranda only leaned in and whispered a single word into her ear. "Sleep."

Even as she fought to stay awake, Cassandra felt her eyes grow tired and heavy. But the battle would not last long. Within seconds, her strength left her and her head hit the tabletop with a muffled thud.

Noranda smiled and with a wave of her hand the oil lamps in the command tent snuffed themselves out, and all was in darkness.