Iron Will: Shadows of an Empire, #7

By N E Riggs

The emperor is here and less useful than anticipated. Banof and Azeha are free, and the south cannot afford another assault. The south cannot defeat the north in open war, so Nikilaus conceives of a raid into Daranvirmor itself, to defeat the diemthe empress and her allies. Illera needs to find a new weapon, and fast.

• Language: English
• Publisher: N E Riggs
• Release date: Dec 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393017356

Book preview

1

Gathering

You can still leave, Iwen said. The Travel Pattern is guarded, but you could just... walk out. He waved in the direction of the wall surrounding the rabet encampment. He tried not to look at it. Being inside a rabet encampment again – that was the last thing he'd wanted. But Loger v'Vokarin was a man he had to talk to.

Iwen wondered if he'd gotten greedy. He'd convinced so many people in the southern rabets; he'd almost convinced an altered human to defect. He took away the support troops from most of the northeastern rabets. Inevitably, though he tried to stay with the other northerners in Twin Sun River, he came home. What was the good of helping everyone else in the north, freeing every other country, if he couldn't do anything for Leanmarei?

He'd met Loger before, many times. Loger was a captain in the thirteenth rabet, the rabet with control over Leanmarei. He came to the palace at least once a month, too keep open a dialog with Duchess Aminda. Every month, Aminda would complain about the pirates that roved the Inner Sea and how the thirteenth did nothing to stop them as they raided along the coasts. Loger always had an excuse, as long as those arguments occurred in public.

In private, he didn’t bother. They all knew there was nothing Loger could do to change how his rabet operated. At least with him as captain, the thirteenth caused less trouble than it might have.

They had to speak in the thirteenth encampment. Dangerous enough for them to have a secret correspondence, a correspondence only made possible by the fact that Loger had his own Post Pattern. Like all northern resistance members, Loger knew how to read and write in code, knew to destroy all his suspicious post as soon as possible. Iwen wished they could have done this via letters, but it was too complicated a thing to explain that way.

A month ago, Iwen would have been so nervous in a rabet encampment that he would barely have been able to speak to Loger. How the man could be a captain and a resistance member at the same time, Iwen didn’t know. He certainly didn’t possess that level of bravery — or was it foolishness? Well, Iwen was used to rabet encampments now too. He'd worked alongside altered humans and diemthe. He'd even made an ally of a diemthe. After everything that had happened in the south, Iwen didn't think he'd ever be afraid again.

He still wished he wasn't in the thirteenth encampment, of course, but anyone with sense would wish that.

Maybe I don't want to leave, Iwen, Loger said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. They sat between the barracks and the armory, a small, narrow strip deep in shadows. I am a captain. This rabet is my life.

Iwen nodded. I know. Up till now I wouldn't even have criticized your decision too much. Why should you leave? You have an excellent job: it pays well, you get respect, and you're in little danger here. Of course, when you return home to Vokarin, everyone will hate you, but that's far in the future. Loger scowled at that but didn't contradict him. Of all the places in Komein that hated rabets, Vokarin hated them the most. Of all of Komein, it had the most scars from the Komein War and the failed rebellion. Loger probably planned never to go home. After becoming a rabet captain, his family would disown him, never mind that he also worked with the resistance. Iwen leaned closer. The war is starting up again. You must have heard about the events in the south. Very soon now, the rabets will battle the south. It will be a real war, like the ones we learned about in school. Hundreds, thousands of people will die. Do you want to be one of them?

I have no intention of dying, Loger said. But as you said, I can hardly leave. Where would I go? Without my post, I'm nothing.

Come to the south. Start a new life there. You don't have to tell anyone you were once a rabet captain. You won't be the only former rabet captain there, either. We can find other ways for you to be useful. Iwen might have said more, but he heard a commotion from the parade ground.

Loger stared that way too, his lips tight. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair as he stood. Come with me. He glanced at Iwen. I don't want you wandering around where I can't see you.

Iwen didn't argue as he stood too. No one else in the rabet would hurt him so long as he stayed near Loger. Well, with the exception of the diemthe commander, her bodyguard, and the first captain, but Iwen thought he could avoid their attention.

At least half the rabet stood on the edges of the parade ground. Four people stood in the center: two altered humans and two diemthe. Iwen recognized the orange-skinned altered human as Mifisi Fessano, the first captain of the thirteenth. When Mifisi came to speak with Duchess Aminda, Iwen knew it would always be bad news. He didn't recognize the white-skinned, female altered human who loomed over one of the diemthe, but guessed she was Commander Naflig's bodyguard. Meaning that diemthe must be Naflig, though she didn't look very feminine to him. She wore seven bars under the number thirteen on her left breast, though, so she must be Naflig. The other diemthe wore a one on his uniform.

The two diemthe spoke in nuthe. Finally, the other diemthe turned and walked back to the building with the Travel Pattern. Naflig pivoted slowly, looking at the soldiers in her rabet. Loudly enough for everyone to hear, she said, Rejoice, brave soldiers. The war with the south has finally begun. We go to northern Komein to join with the other rabets. Pack your weapons and supplies now. We leave in two hours.

The soldiers saluted, holding their hands palm-out beside their right temples. Then they hurried into the barracks. Naflig left the parade ground too, the two altered humans going with her.

You should leave now, Loger said. He smiled tightly. I can't escape this war, it seems.

Iwen's mind raced. He saw a chance, one he probably shouldn't take. But he might be to only one who could. Riol brought information back to the south, but he couldn't be everywhere at once. Besides, a human's perspective might help. He grabbed Loger's arm before the other man could leave. Take me with you.

Loger stared at him. Are you mad?

I might be. Iwen barked a laugh. I still want to go with you.

You really are serious about this whole rebellion thing. Loger shook his head. Stay close to me, and keep your head down. I’ll make sure we don’t get too close to the Commander or Captain Mifisi. Stay there till we’re ready to leave. He nodded at the gap between buildings where they’d been talking.

Iwen slipped into the darkened area, already regretting his decision. He’d never wanted to become a spy. Somehow, he’d managed it. Now he was walking into the viper’s nest. While he waited, he paced back and forth. The gap between buildings was short and shallow, so he had to turn every five steps. It felt good to move. It meant he didn’t have to think as hard about what he was about to do.

Within an hour, soldiers began to form ranks in the parade ground, large packs on their backs. Iwen shook his head, impressed by how quickly they moved. The specialized troops and support troops took longer, but they too stood ready before the two-hour deadline Naflig had set. Loger was one of the last to reach his spot – he looked like he’d been helping the slower packers. He stood near the back, and Iwen joined him. Loger handed him a rabet jacket and a bag for Iwen so he wouldn’t stand out. Iwen took both with a nod.

Naflig activated the Travel Pattern, and the thirteenth started through, twenty people at a time. It took over an hour for the entire rabet to move out. Loger and Iwen went through with the last group. Just before they walked through, Iwen glanced around the entire encampment. It was empty. No one had been left behind, not even a small watch. When he left Komein, he’d have to tell Aminda. This was too good an opportunity to attack the encampment, and maybe steal some of their supplies and victuals.

Then, he wondered if there was any point to attacking the abandoned encampment. The war was starting, and the thirteenth wouldn’t have left this place deserted if they thought it mattered.

He first noticed the colder weather in northern Komein. He tugged his jacket closer around him, scowling at the black and gold of the jacket. After serving in Sonon, he’d hoped never to wear one of these again.

There were few permanent structures here: four tall watch towers and a small barracks. Tents covered the ground as far as Iwen could see. They marched south maybe half a kilometer before putting up tents. The rabets kept gaps between their camps. Whether because they didn’t want to be too close or to maintain order, Iwen wasn’t sure. Possibly both.

I’m going to look around, Iwen told Loger.

Be careful.

Iwen snorted. That, I already planned on. He slipped away from the thirteenth, making his way through the giant camp. Stakes had been placed in the ground, labeling which rabet was where. Iwen kept careful track of the numbers, especially as he noticed they weren’t all here. Maybe some rabets were still coming, but he knew some had joined the rebellion. He couldn’t find the first, the second, the third, the fourth, the sixth, the seventh, the eighth, the tenth, the twelfth, the fourteenth, the seventeenth, the eighteenth, the twenty-first, the twenty-second, the twenty-third, the twenty-fifth, the twenty-seventh, or anything past twenty-eight.

For the first time since arriving, he felt hope. He hadn’t realized that many rabets had turned traitor. Maybe the south really could win. He reminded himself not to feel too confident as he watched the twelfth marched out of the Travel Pattern and head to the eastern side of the camp.

As he headed north, he saw a bigger gap between where the fifth had pitched their tents and another camp. He stared, wondering who that could be – the missing rabets? He tugged his jacket closer around his shoulders and crossed the field to find out.

Immediately, he realized he couldn’t sneak around this camp as easily as he could the other. There were nothing but altered humans here. Swallowing, he forced himself to continue, keeping his shoulders back and walking at a brisk pace. Hopefully, they’d think him a messenger.

He saw that the altered humans had arranged themselves by color. He also didn’t see every color: he saw the white altered humans first, on the south side of the camp. Just east of them the orange altered humans had set their camp. North of the orange were the green, and east of both were the brown. In the center of the camp he found indigo-skinned altered humans. He’d heard altered humans came in all nine elemental colors, but he’d never seen indigo altered humans before.

He tried to estimate the number of altered humans present – unless he missed his guess, there had to be at least twenty-two thousand, maybe more. Whatever confidence he’d felt at seeing how many rabets were missing slipped away. The army had more than made up for that loss in altered humans.

Walking east, he saw a third camp, pitched a short distance from the altered humans but further away from the rabet camp to the south. This camp was much smaller than either of the others. He saw diemthe among the tents and nearly ran away. A small copse of trees stood just a short distance away from the diemthe camp. Before he could think why this was a bad idea, Iwen hurried over to them, ducking behind one of the wider tree trunks.

In Sonon, he had to work closely with five diemthe at the same time. He’d thought that terrifying. Five diemthe had nothing on this. There were hundreds of diemthe milling around the camp. He saw stakes with the numbers one and two, and swallowed. He’d never heard of anyone assigned to those rabets and had sometimes wondered why. Now he knew – those were diemthe rabets. He could hear the diemthe speaking from his hiding place, but couldn’t understand them. He wished they’d speak human.

After watching for perhaps a half hour, Iwen was ready to leave his hiding spot when he saw a group of altered humans walked towards the diemthe camp. They stopped a short distance away and stood there. There were fifteen altered humans in the group, three of each color. Some looked old, the colors of their skin washed out and faded.

The altered humans waited only a short while before two diemthe left the camp to meet them. Iwen stared at their rank insignia. One diemthe, with short black hair, wore a number one, then seven bars, then a number two under that. Iwen had no idea what that meant, though the diemthe was presumably a commander. The other diemthe had hints of gray at his temples; his uniform had no rabet number but bore eight bars.

General, the old, indigo-skinned altered human said, saluting. Iwen shivered. He’d never heard of a diemthe general. He probably should have guessed. Someone had to oversee all the rabets and their deployment.

Ritasi Mielvo, said the general. His tone was warm, and he even offered a faint smile. Thank you for coming to our air. Your loyalty will not be forgotten.

The altered human – Ritasi – stood up straighter, though he had to keep a firm grip of his cane. We are honored to serve you, General. If I may ask, when will the battle commence?

The general looked around, his gaze traveling slowly over both the altered human camp and the collected rabets. He didn’t look in Iwen’s direction, but Iwen shrank further behind the tree anyway. Some of the rabets have not arrived yet, nor have all your people. It will be a few days before we move out. Besides, we have a few things we need to take care of before then. His smile stretched across his face, and Iwen trembled, wondering what he had in mind. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for the south or the rebellion. In the meantime, we— the general cut off as a commotion came from the diemthe camp.

As the general and altered humans turned to look, so did Iwen. The diemthe all stood, hands clasped behind their backs and standing perfectly straight. They no longer spoke. A moment later, Iwen saw two diemthe walking slowly out of the camp. One, a male, had thinning hair and wore an unmarked rabet uniform. The other was female, with wavy hair. Rather than a uniform, she wore a golden robe that shimmered in the sunlight. On her head she had a thin, grayish circlet.

Sweat trickled down Iwen’s back and forehead as he looked at the female diemthe. Why, he couldn’t imagine. She wore no visible weapons and the robe made her look feminine and soft. Compared to the female diemthe he’d seen before, she didn’t look scary. But there was something about her, something that made Iwen crouch low to the ground and hold his breath.

You are here, she said, staring at the gathered altered humans. Good.

I told you they would be, the male beside her said. Some of the altered humans have gone astray, but they have not all forgotten you.

The general stood at the female’s other side. This is Ritasi Mielvo, head of the altered human council. That is Hurreni Larfeno, he motioned towards a brown-skinned male altered human, and that is Tilrun Hisano. He gestured towards a green one this time. Both also of the council.

Ritasi stared at the female diemthe, barely blinking. Are— He paused to wet his lips. Are you the empress?

She smiled. Yes.

Iwen pressed a fist against his mouth to keep any noise from escaping. His bowels churned, and his limbs shook. The most terrible and most powerful person in the world stood just a few meters away from him. I should have never come here, he thought.

I… I am honored. Ritasi attempted to bow low. He couldn’t get very far down, his arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up on his cane.

The empress reached out and touched his arm. There is no need for that, she said. Ritasi straightened slowly, without help from the empress, though he still gripped his cane tightly. You came when I called. Some of your people turned against me, but you stayed loyal. Stand tall, my friend, and fight well.

Of course, Your Majesty. Ritasi’s indigo eyes shone, and his voice shook.

This is Wirek. The empress motioned to the male diemthe who had accompanied her. He is my dear brother. I give him to you in appreciation. When we go into battle, he will stand with you and fight alongside you.

The altered humans all bowed. Thank you, Your Majesty, the brown one, Hurreni, said. The empress smiled again and headed back into the diemthe encampment, taking the general with her. Wirek stayed behind. We await your orders, sir, Hurreni said to him, saluting.

How marvelous. Wirek walked towards the altered human camp. Do you sing campfire songs? I like a nice song in the evening.

Er— The altered humans shared a look over Wirek’s head. Tilrun, the green one, said, I suppose we could sing, sir, but we don’t usually—

Wirek waved a hand. Ah, do not bother. A spiritless song is no fun. He continued speaking as the group disappeared amongst the tents, but Iwen couldn’t hear him.

No one stood between the camps now. Iwen could leave his hiding spot any time. He couldn’t stand though. He tried, pressing his back against the tree, but his legs shook too badly. I saw the empress, he thought and trembled again. I saw the empress, and I lived to tell about it.

He shook his head. He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, and there were many people who needed to know. Grabbing the tree trunk for support, Iwen stood up. He paused there, waiting until his legs felt stable underneath him. He ran a hand across his forehead, mopping up the sweat there, though it was late Shu, nearly winter, and cold this far north in Komein. The weather had nothing to do with why he was sweaty.

Finally feeling steady, Iwen walked away from the copse of trees and back towards the rabet camp, trying to walk loose and casual, as if he hadn’t just had the most terrifying encounter of his life. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded, since some of the soldiers he passed gave him strange looks, but he made it made to Loger’s tent without being questioned.

When dusk fell, Loger took him to the Travel Pattern. He told the soldiers on guard that Iwen needed to deliver a message to contacts in Leanmarei. Only when the Pattern activated and Iwen found himself back home did he finally breathe easy.

* * *

The fields outside the thirty-third’s encampment overflowed with bright colors: blue and yellow and red and black. Umagun was the only speck of green, save for a few distant cousins among the traitorous rabets. More altered humans came through the Travel Pattern every few minutes. With them came no stories of the remaining clans trying to stop them. The atmosphere in Highland had been tense, Bolama Kitala told him almost cheerfully, but not even a squabble had broken out. Altered humans did not fight, not in Hillgrandia.

They’ll ruin the orchards, Bristan said, wringing his hands. Inside the walls of the encampment, there was no more room. So the altered humans camped out in the fields adjoining the encampment. Most rabets were self-sufficient, including the thirty-third, and had extensive fields attached to the encampments. The fields in Giram were larger than most rabets, but the thirty-third was second largest, after the now-defunct thirty-first.

Here in far western Giram, almost on top of the Arch Mountains, there were no other settlements. Giram was a young country; few of its citizens lived more than a hundred kilometers from the coast. That was why Banof had picked this spot when the thirty-third first came to Giram, thirty-five years ago. The trees that coated most of central Giram grew thinner here and the soil was rich and strong. The Nisen River flowed past. Here, the thirty-third could provide itself everything it needed and live in comfort and security.

Banof had made the fields more extensive than they needed to be, because he planned for every eventuality including droughts and famines. Storehouses with preservation preiginds on them surrounded the fields, holding all the excess food. Umagun rarely ventured out into the fields: this area belonged to Bristan and the support troops who worked under him. On days with all the support troops out and working, he thought the fields looked full. Now he knew what full really looked like.

He grimaced to himself – Banof had planned for every eventuality, except this. The thirty-third’s encampment could easily hold five thousand people, over twice its compliment. It now had to hold far more than that. He had never seen what eighteen thousand people in the same place looked like. He still hadn’t, as only about half the altered humans had arrived. One tent stood almost on top of the next. Only narrow paths had been left to navigate the area. A few support troops from the thirty-third stood on the far side, herding their goats further away.

Umagun and Bristan stood on the wall surrounding the encampment, which looked out over the fields. There’s no help for it, Umagun said. We ran out of room inside. He’d spoken with Mrenthet about moving some of their troops out to the fields too. He wanted to move the new rabets, but that might foster resentment. So he volunteered that half the soldiers from the thirty-third join the altered human camp. The troops would grumble at being foisted from their quarters, but they’d do it. He wanted to wait for all the altered humans arrived before moving anyone else around. With the new rabets clogging every free space inside the encampment, and the constant stream of altered human emanating from the Travel Pattern, a person could barely move inside.

If we ruin the fields, we won’t eat, Bristan said. In the last few days, we’ve already gone through most of our stores.

Umagun grimaced. I thought the new rabets brought supplies with them. They’d had plenty of air barges with them when they arrived.

Only a few days’ worth of food. They could return to their old encampments to bring more, but they didn’t keep as extensive stores as we do. And the eighteenth already brought all their supplies.

So had the twenty-first. Both mobile rabets, they didn’t have fields or supply troops – well, not beyond a hundred or so cooks and cleaners and carpenters. The mobile rabets depended on the fourth rabet, the farming rabet, for most of their supplies. The other rabets, stationed in the comparative safety of the north, had assumed they too could request more supplies from the fourth if their own ran low. Umagun could still remember the horrified look Bristan had worn when he’d spoken to the supply captains of the other rabets and heard that.

We can’t send anyone back to get more supplies. It isn’t safe. By now, the diemthe would know that some rabets had turned traitor, and which. Even if the Travel Patterns to the old encampments still worked, only traps would wait beyond. If any supplies had been left behind, the other rabets would have claimed them by now. We can request supplies from Bilthan or the Twin Sun Kingdoms. He’d rather ask Bilthan. Most of the rabet supply troops from the north had settled near there. They’d only been there a short time though, not enough to produce extra food. He’d rather not ask the Twin Sun Kingdoms. They were allies now, but Umagun had thought of them as enemies far too long. Besides, he didn’t like having to beg for aid.

The altered humans at least brought food with them. Enough only for a few days, but they’d have time to find a solution. Umagun hoped the war would be over before they needed a solution, but he couldn’t depend on that.

Umagun Hisano, who knew you could change so much so fast!

He turned from the fields, looking back into the encampment. At the base of the wall stood Warmerin Disrani and Bolama Kitala, along with Jikora Sarava, head of the Sarava clan. Pimani Vollari, head of the Vollari clan, was supervising the placement of the camp. Jikora had her hands on her hips and a wide smile on her black face as she craned her head back to see Umagun. She’d been the one to call out.

Go find someone else to haunt, Jikora, he said, not bothering to shout. She'd hear him. Only a year older than him, Jikora had tormented him when they were in training together. She was the youngest clan head, but her clan felt satisfied with her. The Sarava clan hadn't been on the council in generations. Most altered humans thought that, under Jikora, the Sarava would have a seat within a decade or two.

Since Umagun spent little time at home, he didn't know the full situation at home. He was only familiar with Jikora's rise because his father Tilrun wrote long epistles about everything that Jikora did right and how Umagun ought to emulate her. Tilrun had long despaired of Umagun becoming a proper altered human, much less a clan head, but until recently, still held some hope for his son. Umagun wondered what Tilrun thought of Jikora now that she'd joined with the rebellion.

Jikora climbed the stairs and joined him on the wall. The defensive circle tattooed on her bald head gleamed in the sunlight. Human women — and probably nuthe women too, from what Umagun had seen — liked to have pretty hair and spent a great deal of time to make sure it looked lovely. Altered human women didn't bother with such things. Just like the men, they covered themselves with tattoos of circles, often shaving to place another tattoo on their heads. Northern humans could choose to serve in the supply troops if they didn't want to be soldiers and didn't have the training to be specialized troops. Now, so could altered humans. Each and every one of them served as warriors for twenty years, though most had the training to play back-up Elementalists too. Better to be tough and strong and defended than dead.

Most altered humans received their first tattoos at twelve, equivalent to six in normal humans. They usually added a tattoo every year until they joined the training rabet in Altland at thirty-five. Some altered humans continued to ink themselves after that. Umagun had a cousin whose entire body, save his face, had been covered in tattoos. He'd died of old age when Umagun was young, never having taken a major injury despite his years of service in Lunway. To Umagun's young eyes, that cousin had been the pinnacle of what an altered human ought to be.

We could find another place to stay, Jikora said as she looked over the camp. There are deserted encampments now, aren't there? The thirtieth, the thirty-second, even the one the twenty-ninth built. You don't have room for us here.

On his other side, Umagun saw Bristan scowl. We have many options, considerable stores, and empty fields beyond the encampment.

Jikora held up her hands. Forgive me, Supply Captain. I meant no offense. We don't wish to be a burden.

You can't leave, Umagun said. Commander Mrenthet wants all our troops in one place. When the time comes to move, we must move quickly.

Oh, and it's so much easier to move out with only one Travel Pattern? Jikora snorted. The other encampments are in place, with Travel Patterns. We can deploy from anywhere. Besides, the diemthe have already launched an attack through Travel Patterns. How do we know they won't attack here?

Umagun crossed his arms over his chest, turning away from the fields so he could better glare at Jikora. You just got here, I know, but you're still woefully misinformed. First, he held up a finger, we've carefully guarded the new Travel Pattern here. The only diemthe who know it are loyal to our cause. Second, while we only have one Travel Pattern here now, we will soon have more. We just received a shipment of resonite, courtesy of the eighth rabet. They haven't openly rebelled yet – they can help more by controlling the resonite mines than by joining our army. Commander Mrenthet wanted to wait for you to arrive before we set the new Patterns.

I hadn't heard that, about the eighth, Jikora said. She smiled. Knowing you, you have more planned for the resonite than just building Patterns here.

You'll see. Umagun smirked. Jikora would hear the attack plan soon enough, if not from him than from someone else. But he had a long history with her. When she glared at him, a small spark of triumph filled him.

Almost as if she'd detected his satisfaction, Jikora shrugged and leaned against the low wall – chest height on a human, it barely reached hip-height on an altered human. And here I'd thought you'd grown up some, Umagun. Deliberately, she leaned around him and spoke to Bristan. You still have a food problem. We each brought food with us, and, with luck, we won't need more than a few days worth of food. Still, we should not depend on luck. What can we do to help?

Bristan looked out over the field, brow furrowed. We've only ever bothered to cultivate the fields immediately around the encampment. Umagun glanced out as well. From here, he couldn't see them, but he knew another wall surrounded the fields, marking their boundaries. The walls had been built to keep out animals, altered creatures, and brigands. They'd had trouble over the years with animals and altered creatures, but never humans. The closest human village sat over one hundred kilometers away from here. If we need to, we have more land we can use. How are altered humans at farming?

Jikora grinned. Not as skilled as humans, but we work hard. You have many soldiers in the encampment too, who I noticed were mostly sitting around looking nervous. They've been forced to rebel by their commanders and taken into what they believe is hostile territory. You can't blame them for being nervous. So given them something to do. Busy soldiers don't have time to worry.

We've had them going through drills, Umagun said. They'd mixed up the rabets, so the soldiers could get used to working together. The diemthe themselves had taken over running the drills – Umagun thought they were trying to keep themselves busy too. With the sheer number of soldiers in the encampment, though, not all the soldiers could practice at the same time. He nodded. Farming is better than sitting around and thinking about attacking Daranvirmor.

He was just glad that there no longer seemed to be a plan to slowly fight their way across the entire Northern Continent. Earlier, it seemed that Banof and Nikilaus had planned for a long,