After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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"I don't like this, you know," said Ain as he read their new orders over again for what felt like the hundredth time. They'd arrived a few days ago already, but they hadn't left to act on them yet. He'd already mentioned not liking staying in Orinovo before, but he liked this even less.
Pushing the fight to draw out more of these experimented-on soldiers so they could capture and interrogate them? It didn't matter to him what the point of this was—it felt like trying to conquer more of the country that they had no claim to and finding an excuse, no matter how much sense as a plan it made.
The parts they'd just taken from Orinovo were originally Lys-Akkarian territories. This was on a different level, and if the Bulwark's signature wasn't on the piece of parchment Ainreth was holding, he'd think this was all some ruse from Varilik. But he trusted the Bulwark to make a good decision. That woman was so sundering stubborn that Ainreth didn't believe for one moment that she'd let herself be pushed into anything she didn't agree with, especially not by the Herald.
"I'm not thrilled about it either," Fenn grumbled in that adorable tone of voice he always used when annoyed. He was frowning down at the new orders over Ainreth's shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. Ain made the mistake of looking at him then, his mind flooding with things he shouldn't be thinking about right now.
And sunder, dating Fennrin had clearly had an effect on him if Ain was thinking about what was appropriate for the moment. If this was before having met him, Ainreth wouldn't have cared in the slightest. He'd be using all his seduction skills to act on those mental images, no matter what was happening.
"But it makes sense. If we can capture one of these..." Fennrin waved his hand, clearly looking for the right word, "man-made az-ari, then perhaps we can question them and find out where they are being made. And then we can simply destroy that facility."
Ainreth was thinking the same thing, but that didn't mean he felt any better about this as he nodded. "Really makes you wonder how they did it, doesn't it? How it all works, in general." Fennrin frowned at him, looking a little confused, and so Ainreth continued. "You know, the az-ari. Why are we the way we are?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've never given it much thought. I've always seen myself as lucky to inherit the power of a lightweaver, to be descended from that line, and that was that. But now with Orinovo somehow giving people these powers—even more than one at once—it really makes me wonder where it all comes from."
Fennrin stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, which usually meant there was a lot going on just below the surface. "Maybe once we find the place, we can learn how they did it."
Ainreth nodded. "Yeah." That was probably the best option they had. Perhaps they would find out something about themselves in the process. But Ain also couldn't help but wonder if they would end up regretting finding out.
He frowned at a sudden commotion outside, throwing the orders onto the table and strolling to the entrance to their tent to stick his head outside, only see the worst possible thing—that misborn Varilik, riding on his horse right toward them.
