"That's right! Run you sorry bastards!" Thalia shouted, fitting another arrow to her bow and sending it after the fleeing foe. The arrow struck the rump of one of the fleeing horses. The horse screamed and staggered but didn't spill its fleeing rider. Phaedra leaned far over out of the saddle and pulled a cloak from a dead Khareed. With quick economical motions she cleaned her spatha and slipped it back into her leather sheath.

"That would probably be for the best," Phaedra agreed dryly.

It took most of the rest of the day to ready the army to march. The general plan was to move west rapidly till they encountered other Imperial forces and figure out exactly what in the name of the Huntress was going on back in Komnnea. They spent the day performing the hundred minor tasks required to move an army. Fortunately Brasidas appeared to be an excellent logistician. Phaedra had seen the more aristocratic Imperial units take days or weeks to get ready to march, but Tychon particularly was a terror when it came to motivating troops to load wagons.

As night fell Phaedra felt reasonalby confident they were ready to march out and settled down for the first sleep she had been able to enjoy in several days. Seemingly thirty seconds later Zoe shook her awake. Phaedra's hand flashed towards her sword before she realized it was her Tetrach. Even in the dark she could see that the scout was concerned.

"Enemy?" she asked, as she clambered to her feet. Zoe shook her head, then nodded it, then shrugged her shoulders. Phaedra arched a tired eyebrow.

"Its easier if I just show you," Zoe said wearily. Zoe lead Phaedra through the town to a small inn which had been commandeered by the Miravet. Several worried looking riders were at the door, all of them were armed and all of them were casting worried glances towards the buildings controlled by Brasidas and his men. Phaedra opened the door and froze.

"Go get Brasidas," she said without turning to Zoe.

"First... should we..." the scout commander began.

"Right now Zoe. Bring him alone, but right now."

Fifteen minutes later Brasidas was escorted through the door, looking none to pleased to have been brought here under the Huntress knew what pretenses. Phaedra was sitting with a dark skinned girl in dusty but extremely expensive clothing. A pair of well dressed servant girls, all but wringing their hands in fear.

"This is Tachmeena Al'Suren Daeva," Phaedra said without preamble.

"She is the daughter of the the Satrap of Sidris, the niece of the Great King," Phaedra said grimly.

"And she says she has come to enlist."