Phaedra considered it. The goal of this expedition had been to punish raiders and repulse a possible Atvari probe. That had already been accomplished when Brasidas and his men had sacked Arbela, and doubly so with the crushing defeat of the local Khareeds. She wasn't best pleased to get all the way here only to have to march back to Kestos, but that seemed infinitely preferable to facing twenty thousand Atvari with miles of hostile desert between them and safety.

"Well we can do nothing till your man Tychon rejoins us," Phaedra replied, "and my Sisters have been riding hard for two days." Many Imperial units would have considered the entire march hard, but in truth Georgicus had set a fairly leisurely pace by Miravet standards.

"We can use a day to rest the horses and tend to our fallen," she said solemnly, waving away an offer of refill for her empty cup. There would be many tasks to accomplish before she turned in for what was left of the night and she couldn't afford to be slowed by too much wine.

"Lord! Lord!" came a cry from beyond the wagon barricade. Several distressed looking locals were being held back by the soldiers. There faces were anguished, though they obviously weren't going to try to force there way past armed Imperial troops.

"They are tearing down our houses! The house of my father and my fathers fathers. The devil women!" Phaedra placed her cup down and grimaced. The Miravet needed timber to build pyres and the only source was the wooden superstructure of the local buildings. Timber was expensive here and doubtless represented considerable hardship for the villagers who could do nothing but watch as the cavalry women pulled down their homes to feed the fires.