Learn stood atop a crest of rock peeking out from underneath the red dunes of sand. The battle below looked distant, and he found it difficult to care about it.

He was going to win, of course he was going to win. He had trained his troops himself, had drilled their strategy into them from day one. Even now, the enemy clan was trying to plan around what the Biters were doing. They were confused.

Learn’s troops were backing off, giving ground slowly, surely. Each time the forces clashed, the Biters would half-heartedly skirmish, then withdraw, letting the enemy advance.

Remarkably little bloodshed, for a battle between clans. Learn was proud; one of his goals had been to keep as many of his troops alive and unharmed as possible.

The ground shook, and Learn flared his tusks, grinning grimly. A cacophonous din rose up, distant and impersonal. Another shake, and Learn saw the flare this time.

It was a strategy inspired by Scorch. Learn had seen how she would allow Conquer to win the inconsequential battles, then leverage that into future debates. Learn had just… tweaked it a little bit.

The explosions wracked the enemy forces and they were flung into disarray as charred bodies dropped into the dunes, red mingling with red. Learn counted the explosions, then motioned to his lieutenant, Fight, who blew on a ram’s horn. On the signal, Learn’s forces surged forward and eviscerated the remainders of the enemy troops. The battle was over in seconds.

Learn was happy that he had won. But he still felt empty.

Learn was beginning to truly hate metal bindings. Despite the thickness of his skin, the edges slowly dug and bit into him, cutting off circulation and eventually drawing blood. He had agreed to wear them for what he thought were obvious reasons; he had been the one to suggest it. For one, he was very visibly an enemy combatant. All it would take was one Herald with a twitchy finger and Learn would be on the ground bleeding. The cuffs were also a backup, on the chance that Learn’s plan didn’t work.

If they failed, Asch could hand Learn over to Conquer. He wouldn’t resist, if it came to that.

“Stop it, Learn,” Alvin said. “It’ll work.” Since the Binding, Learn had felt closer to the rest of the group; the feeling apparently went both ways. He could, with focus, tell how they were feeling, occasionally what matter their mind had settled on. And Alvin clearly didn’t believe the words he was saying.

“Right.”

Alvin and Learn walked over to the back line, just on the outside of Shrike’s outer wall. They were close to the leaders of the Herald Hawks, but not so close as to be threatening. Celeste had stopped by to tell Asch to trust Learn, then headed off for her part of the plan. Once Learn was settled, Alvin rushed off to look for the medic tents, or someone who could point him in the proper direction.

The battle was… going. The city was at the top of a hill, and the low incline meant that Learn could see most of the forces arrayed. A good tactical position, with an easy retreat into the confines of the city. The forces were clashing at the front of the line. The orc forces looked to be fairly thin, but each orc fighter was worth several of Shrike’s, which had ranks swelling fairly deep, and still managed to keep multiple battalions in reserve, far from the action.

Not much was happening, and Learn stood watching, his wrists itching. He looked toward Shrike’s command. The man with the bow — Asch, it took Learn several beats to remember, was muttering quickly and quietly with a few others, mostly humans, dressed in regalia that had seen few battles.

There was a noise, from the far left, which grew louder swiftly. Shouting, screaming. A contingent of orcs blew through the massed line and began to attack Shrike’s forces in earnest from behind.

“Shields!” Shouted Asch. He slapped two of the field commanders by his side and they rushed toward their battalions. The line out front began to fall apart, crumbling at the point of intrusion. More orcs poured through the opening, like blood from a fresh wound. The back line, which was waiting ready around the command pushed forward, bearing massive metal slabs. They stood with a few feet of distance between each one of them.

“Back! Draw back!” Asch shouted. He and his guard drew forward. The main force slowly pulled back, fleeing behind the forming-up shield wall. Many of the soldiers rushed toward the walls, noted Learn, heading for the ramparts, where they could rain havoc down on the enemies. A decent strategy, but their arrows wouldn’t do much to the orcs, not unless they focused on one target at a time. They were more of a distraction.

“Ready up!” Shouted Asch. “And… go!” On his command, the massive shields were lifted into position, locking onto one another with a booming sound, sending Learn’s teeth ringing. The massive rods on the back were rotated out and planted onto the ground, digging into the dirt until they moved no further. Soldiers rushed forward to plant themselves against the back of the shield wall, now an actual wall curving forward.

There was a rush of clangs as the orcish forces tried to break through the wall of solid metal, periodic pings followed by grunts from the soldiers holding the shields up. Learn was truly impressed; this was a defense that was far stronger than he thought Shrike capable of. His happiness, however, was dashed as he looked out beyond the shield wall. He scowled, his anger and passion and fury roused fully by the sight he beheld.

There were still Herald Hawks outside, among the bodies of their comrades. They huddled together in small groups as several orcs stopped trying to make it through the wall and turned toward them. Learn forced himself to watch as they were taken to shreds. This, he compelled himself, this is the sickness of my people. This is what Free would have us be. Bloodthirsty, violent. Monsters.

He would not have it. He would destroy the current order, the status quo. He would remake his people from the bottom up, if he had to, but this would go no further.

Asch came over to him and wordlessly grabbed the metal clasping Learn’s wrists together.

“Not yet.” Learn said quietly. Asch didn’t listen, but glared at the orc. There were tears in his eyes, dripping freely down his cheeks.

“Now, orc. Celeste trusts you, but sure as the fires of hell I don’t. If I can save my men’s lives by handing you over, I’m going to do it. We’ve already lost more men than we should have, by harboring you. If it were me, you’d have been gone a while ago.”

“Not yet.” Learn argued. “Wall is holding.”

Asch’s face contorted into a grimace, a snarl. With a growl, he released the cuffs, and stepped right into Learn’s face.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” He hissed, jabbing Learn in the chest with one finger. “Now come with me.”

Learn looked around. Though the majority of the Herald Hawks had gone to bolster the shield walls, or to arm the ramparts, there were enough still waiting that he would be killed instantly should he even try to lay a hand on their acting commander. And Best wasn’t anywhere to be seen. With how the elf was, Learn assumed she would show up at the last possible second.

“Okay.” Learn said, resigned. “You’re boss.”

They were interrupted by a shrill whistling noise, which pierced the sounds of metal on metal and all of the shouting and screaming. It went on for a moment, then two, then three, before it changed in pitch, going higher, then after a similar period of time, back down. Learn recognized it, and his hopes raised slowly as Asch’s pulling grip lessened.

Best was atop the wall behind them, flute held to mouth. She was playing that same, familiar orc tune, on an instrument that had surely never been heard by those inhabitants of the Red Desert. The song of longing, of family and protection, of strength in groups.

There was a loud stirring beyond the shield wall, disorganized yelling that slowly coalesced into an angry chant.

“Betrayer!” the cry went. “Traitor! Giver-away of secrets!” Their vitriol was aimed at Learn, but even in their lamentations of their traditions being given to such an other, they were unconsciously fitting their rhythm to the rhythm of the flute, their voices meeting its pitch.

Best stood atop the ramparts, continuing to play. Her — his playing, Learn corrected himself, based on the elf’s dress, grew only stronger. As he stood, he did a little jig, and Learn’s heart nearly stopped; the elf was high in the air, a fall would surely be lethal. But the elf continued, and the song swelled in time with the diatribal chants opposing it, until they met in a crescendo of sound.

Best gave a bow, and, unsure, a smattering of clapping arose from some of the Heralds. All fighting had stopped, all attention was on the elf, who rose from his bow, and leapt backward off the rampart, disappearing from sight.

Until he came swinging through the gate, momentum carrying him further than what should be possible, swinging him in an apex that brought him up, high up in the air, then as he released the rope and began to plummet to the ground. No, thought Learn, not plummet. Too graceful.

The elf’s descent brought him forward and he touched down lighter than he should have, for a flight of such a distance. Yet again, he bowed, and the clapping began anew, renewed in vigor. Learn felt a pulsing from Best’s Command, drawing energy from the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you, honored guests.” Best began, and his voice carried as if amplified. Learn was certain that the orcs could hear it fully through the wall of shields, as fully as if Best were standing next to them. “Thank you for coming to my performance. But today isn’t about me, now, is it?”

Learn felt the confusion of those around him. They were enraptured, yes, they weren’t about to break the magic of the performance, but they weren’t under any geas or control. There was only so far that Best could take this, and that point was swiftly being reached.

“We’re here for recompense, are we not?” Best continued. “Compensation for an attack, for the worthy Herald Hawks who have fallen in battle these past days. Compensation for our orcish brethren, who have had something precious taken from them, the most precious thing possible. You see,” the elf continued, speaking to the Hawks. “The most important thing, the most important thing to orcs; more important than strength, or power, or violence: family. Family protects the orcs in the brutal sands of the Red Desert, family keeps them together when famine or fighting would split them apart.

“Conquer, you have done something important, something precious. How long has it been since there was a family made of every single orc in The Land We Know? Your clan is truly, truly a force to be reckoned with! But I beg of you! Leave this place in peace! I know why you came, and you will not find what you are looking for. You know that. Your clan knows that. Every second you spend, every life that you waste on this needless quest weakens you!”

Learn was surprised at how accurate the elf was. He hadn’t seen him show any interest in orcish life, structure. And yet, he knew the song, had made a shekere. Best had depths that continued to surprise Learn. But this plea wouldn’t work. Learn had stolen from Conquer. No amount of truth or pleading would save from his ire.

But the elf seemed to know this too, and gestured toward Learn. He felt as if a bright light were shining on him, illuminating him. All of the attention that the elf had garnered shifted toward him.

“I…” his throat caught. He was nervous, unwittingly so, more so than he had been in a long while. He paused, cleared his throat.

“I—” good, his voice was carrying. “Do not submit to Conquer! You have led us astray! You kill hundreds for no gain! Claim that which is not yours! You take people’s freedom!”

He took a breath. This was the crux of this war, the point where everything could change, for better or for worse. All depending on Learn.

“The rite of strength!” Over the hushed silence of the Herald Hawks, the sound of orcish yells crescendoed. Learn could not tell whether they were against him, or in favor of the rite of strength, or simply excited to see some bloodshed, but their voices rang out loud.

Learn made his way to the shield wall, pulling Asch along with him, as the man refused to let go of the restraints.

“Ladder?” he asked. It was brought to him, and he gently shook Asch’s hands off of him. The man growled and pulled away, but put his hand on his massive longbow.

“Going. Like you wanted.”

Learn made his way up the ladder, nearly too small to hold his weight. He reached the top of the massive shields and saw his people look back at him. There was no easy way down, so, resigned, he tumbled over the far side.

The fall hurt, jarred his shoulder. He tried to land on his back and succeeded, for the most part. His leg, already screaming at him, nearly gave in, but he got to his knees and stood. That had hurt.

Conquer shoved his way forward. His father was breathing heavily, the rage was apparent on his face and violence was not far in his future.

“You are not strong enough to lead my people,” Learn whispered, loud enough so that the orcs around him could hear. “I am stronger than you. I will take your place.”