“Let’s move this somewhere more private, Faoiltiarna,” I responded.

  We quickly made our way back to my tent. Both the elf and my Guard Captain entered after me. For his part, Isengrim barely raised an eyebrow when he saw the dismembered leshen.

  I barely noticed his reaction.

  “The other army,” I stated calmly, “could you,” I paused, “expand upon that, please?”

  “I could,” the elf answered with a smile that looked more like a grimace on his scarred face, “Very well,” he continued before I could retort, “They number around three thousand. Largely infantry, with a handful of outriders. Most are likely run-away mercenaries or deserters from Metinna and Ebbing, but there is a clear professional core. One old man in a robe, though,” he pointedly stared at my own armour, “that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “True,” I muttered, numbers floating through my mind. Three thousand and a possible spellcaster. This was terrible but not unsalvageable. While my own troops were mostly green, they were also Cintrans and patriotic. All of them still remembered the pillaging Nazair’s forces committed until Calanthé stopped them at Hochebuz. While mercenaries might have a bigger appetite for bloodshed, they cared much more about their own skin.

  That they had penetrated this deep into Cintra without notice or challenge was a much deeper issue. It seemed that Baldemar of Attre was not above a bit of treason to get his way.

  “However,” Isengrim brought me out of my musings, ”the scout we captured seemed confident that the old man was a Nazairi sorcerer. Though the possibility that he was lying exists, I can be… persuasive.”

  “Good, more information is always better,” I spoke softly, staring at the leshen in thought.

  The lack of heavy cavalry on their part wasn’t as big of an advantage as I would have liked. We were in a forest, and Erlenwald was quite dense in parts. If the enemy was not led by an utter idiot, they could force battle in a place where my knights would be reduced to heavy infantry.

  Yet, there was one other field in which we likely held a clear advantage.

  Reconnaissance.

  “Tell me, Faoiltiarna, were your people spotted?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” he replied immediately, “Compared to your own camp, their security is incredibly lax. Their missing scout was unfortunately grabbed by drowners in a moment of inattention.”

  I hummed in consideration.

  Was there even a need to force a battle? Guerilla warfare was looking more and more appealing.

  Perhaps it was time to see what heights Alzur’s Double Cross and Triangle Within a Triangle could truly reach in a setting where I didn’t have to worry about control.

  With an enemy sorcerer in the equation, things were bound to be trickier, yet the chance to significantly dwindle their numbers before our forces clashed was there.

  I glanced at the leshen again.

  “How far away is their camp?”

  “Three days on foot,” the elf responded.

  I hummed, “Roderic, please call the commanders here.”

  The Royal Guard nodded, took a step forward, then paused, staring pointedly at Isengrim.

  I waved him off.

  “I can fry one man easily enough,” I spoke casually, though I watched the new addition to my staff carefully. His smile never slipped off, but his eyes remained cold. I wasn't planning on letting my guard down anyway.

  Soon, Roderic returned with my Battalion commanders, including Ortagor. All four stared at the elf. Ortagor's face was unreadable, but the other three clearly weren't nearly as used to hiding their true feelings.

  Cyril, the oldest of the three, didn’t seem concerned. As someone who had spent their life in Cintra’s capital, this wasn’t that surprising. While not completely accepting, the cities were much more cosmopolitan and so their inhabitants tended to be more used to non-humans.

  Bastan, the former mercenary, watched Isengrim carefully, though his attention was more focused on the elf's sword than on his ears.

  Sorin started frowning the moment he registered the elf’s presence.

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  “Gentleman,” I began, “Our new friend,” I nodded to Isengrim, while Sorin threw me a disapproving glance, “has come to inform us of an… infestation.”

  Sorin was a problem for later, but overall, it was a much better reaction than I had feared after my past experiences. Cintra did take much of its custom from elves, while its royalty was said to possess elven blood in some imperceptible quantities, so less bigotry against them wasn't too surprising, if still relieving.

  “More monsters?” Cyril asked, apprehensive.

  “No, better,” I grinned. These people might not have been complete battle maniacs, but they were patriots, “It seems that the lesson taught to Nazair by the Lioness of Cintra hasn't stuck.”

  I didn't know for certain that it was Nazair, but they were the most likely culprit. It could also be a Nilfgaardian plot, though the timing didn’t match up well for that. Possibly even internal treachery, if the Queen’s suspicions were more severe than I had thought.

  If the average Cintran hated anyone, it'd be Nazair. Though I didn't care one way or the other, playing up the patriotic angle was bound to be good for morale. Unlike my past life, I doubted anyone would be fooled if I pretended to be patriotic now, considering my origins. Still, appearing patriotic was important in nationalistic countries, so I might as well start laying the groundwork.

  “Since the enemy was so kind to announce themselves, we will prepare a warm welcome. Now, please go and pick the men most used to moving through forests amongst your troops, but only those that can ride horses.”

  As the commanders left, I turned back to Isengrim, “Your people are skilled hunters, are they not?”

  The elf nodded, a twinkle of curiosity entering his eyes.

  “Catch me a deer, alive.”

  “Alive?” Isengrim muttered, “Might take a while.”

  I waved his concern off, “Just do your best, I'll make do.”

  As Isengrim left, presumably to get his people, I turned towards the leshen.

  More and more, I was beginning to believe that Alzur hadn't cared about control at all. It was likely that the spell was simply meant to create a monster and nothing more. Fregenal’s additions, while somewhat unhinged, served well enough as a base to turn the spell into something more useful.

  As I poked around the leshen’s body, I felt that I was almost there. Ultimately, the only truly necessary change for the spell was isolating its effects on the brain. It wasn't ideal by any means, but it would do.

  I had the perfect idea for a field test already.

  Though initially hesitant, Isengrim managed to procure the deer for me within a day, returning with more of his people in tow.

  The camp fell silent when the elves entered, but one look from me and Cyril quickly got everyone working again. Sorin just stared, while Bastan hadn’t bothered to come and witness their arrival.

  Annoying, but the upcoming battles would hopefully break any racial divides.

  Should the elves integrate well into the army structure here, I might be able to use them to convince Calanthé of the benefits of giving their people some of Cintra's lands. A proper defensive zone between the south and Cintra would increase our chances tenfold.

  I spent the rest of the day testing my hypothesis, courtesy of the leshen’s strange brain structure. By dawn, the animal was barely recognisable. After I had euthanised it, I gathered the men my commanders identified as being adept in forestry and riding. This included most of the elves. A hundred more men came from Tiggs's forces, while another fifty were scrounged up from the infantry, most of them coming from the archer battalion.

  Two hundred and fifty in all, not a bad number.

  Soon, all were outfitted with horses and supplies, ready to leave. It was a shame that I would have to put myself in danger, but needs must.

  “Roderic, you’ll be in charge while I am gone,” I spoke to the man in the privacy of my tent, “Maintain vigilance, should the enemy somehow pass us, you are to retreat if possible and to fight defensively if not. Keep the sorcerer in mind.”

  The Guard Captain opened his mouth, then closed it and sighed, “Lady Degurechaff, you understand that my duty is to protect you, yes? If I cannot talk you out of this scheme, then I should at least come along. Baron Ortagor would be more than suited to lead in your absence.”

  “No,” I rebuked, “Ortagor is too inflexible. As he is now, he might decide to try and rout the enemy in a glorious charge,” Roderic did not deny my words. Ortagor represented both the best and worst of Cintra and did not hide it, “I'll have to educate him properly once I get back,” I muttered.

  Roderic cringed, apparently sharing my distaste for suicidal honour, before sighing again, “As you command.”

  Soon after, we rode out.

  Though the soldiers were nervous, our travel passed peacefully, mostly thanks to Isengrim. He had people stationed all along our way, helping us along and delivering new information on the movement of the enemy, along with the occasional captured deer. Not that the enemy was moving, seemingly happy to stay put.

  I grew more impressed with the elven commander as we went along, even if it made me somewhat disturbed. Logically, I had known that the elven population was hiding tremendous potential, but seeing it first-hand had some disturbing implications for the future of the Northern Realms. According to my knowledge, elves had no organised military, barring a trivial number sequestered in the Blue Mountains. Yet, simply on Ida’s word, a hundred warriors led by a talented commander just materialised inside Cintra’s borders. A hundred warriors adept at subterfuge and stealth at that. That was... dangerous.

  Perhaps Isengrim and his people were just outliers, but something told me there was more to it.

  By the second day, we were already nearing their camp. Despite the unfavourable terrain, horseback travel was still decently fast. We stopped before we got too close. I spent the rest of the day and much of the night casting and drawing power from the environment as more and more animals were brought to me.

  By morning, the deer were transformed. Gone were the innocent-looking animals. My new monsters were about one and a half times bigger than stocky war horses, with armoured hides and antlers fit for goring elephants. The flesh on their heads was gone, leaving just gleaming white skulls with calcified brains inside. Despite the lethality of such a condition, all but two of the animals still drew breath.

  The poor creatures were in for the shock of a lifetime once they woke up.

  I still had no way to control them, but if everything worked out, they should still possess the minds of deer. Skittish. Scaring them straight into the embrace of the enemy should not be a difficult task.