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“Isn’t this where we left you last time?” The Jatan soldier at the front of the group came to a stop close to the woman and the village leader.

Luc guessed he was the young captain.

“You haven’t been gone that long.” Marcus stepped back.

Just out of reach, Luc noted with approval.

“Spread out, the stores are either in the houses, or here on the field.”

Some of the soldiers turned back toward the lane, and stopped dead at the sight of Luc.

He’d moved to the middle of the lane, Kikir by his side. The Skäddar was almost vibrating with eagerness for the confrontation. As soon as they had moved out from their position against the wall, Revek had emerged from a narrow lane and came down the lane to join them.

Luc caught a glimpse of a few of his unit further down toward the hall.

When Revek drew level and stopped, the three of them formed a solid barrier.

One of the soldiers finally found their voice and let out a yip of alarm. The captain turned.

He stared at Luc for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“That’s not how this works.” Luc moved his horse toward them. “This is my country. These are my villagers. I ask the questions of interlopers, not the other way around.”

There was a moment of shocked silence from the Jatan.

“Your country?” the captain tried to sneer, but Luc could see he was thinking hard behind the attitude.

“You still don’t get the concept of who asks the questions. Who are you?” Over the officer’s shoulder, Luc saw Massi swing up to a high branch in the tree closest to the field, and then dropped his gaze back to the threat in front of him.

“Lieutenant Hurst of the Fourth Jatan Regiment.” Hurst spoke through gritted teeth, and Luc was surprised he’d answered at all.

He didn’t like orders, this one.

He wondered how he’d progressed to lieutenant with that attitude, but Kym had said the Jatan had lost a lot of senior officers in their battles with the Kassian, so perhaps Hurst was the result of a shortage of good leaders.

“Lieutenant Hurst of the Jatan, what are you doing attacking a Kassian village so far from the Jatan border?”

“We are at war with Kassia, didn’t you know?” Hurst was trying to be sarcastic.

“You look thin and desperate.” Luc studied Hurst calmly. “You took advantage of my army’s victory over the Kassian forces to move into territory I have taken. You will pay reparations to this village for the lives you took, the damage you have done, and the food you stole, and you will return to Jatan, or there will be consequences.”

“They are Kassian, what do you care if you’re Rising Wave?” The way Hurst flicked a quick look over Luc’s shoulder told him he’d seen some of Luc’s unit. Seen how outnumbered he was. “Aren’t you all Cervantes?”

“I just told you. I’ve taken this territory and I take care of what is mine.” Luc caught Marcus’s eye and flicked a look behind him, to the rest of the villagers.

Marcus gave a nod, grabbed the woman’s arm, and hauled her up before backing away, giving Luc room to fight if he needed to.

“We didn’t realize you’d been successful in overcoming the Kassian army. Didn’t know the war was won.” Hurst lifted his shoulders and began to weave his horse through his soldiers and past the carts toward Luc. “And we needed supplies.”

“Your fight with Kassia is over where the border lies and who controls which side of the mountains.” Luc studied him, looking for the tell that said he was going to strike. No doubt about it, this one thought he was the best fighter in the room. “But here you are, far from the border and the mountains. Only a week’s hard ride to Fernwell.” He tilted his head. “Are the Jatan invading? Because that would be helpful to know.”

“It’s not my place to give an answer to that.” Hurst’s smile was insincere. “I am just a lieutenant.”

“Then where is your superior officer?” Luc asked. “It seems I need a word.”

Hurst moved.

Luc had noticed he’d released his reins while he’d been smiling, and his hand whipped back to grab his sword.