[very much not a warrior goddess' journal]

  The soldiers look at me like I did something amazing. They murmur my name and they sound [sentence unfinished]

  I don't know what to feel about it, but I was only doing what I thought was right. I have only seen one battle of this war so far, Miss Journal, but I already hate it. There was nothing glorious or honorable about it at all.

  And the worst bit, Miss Journal? Stewart thinks I'm glorious too. Only he doesn't worship me, at least, but instead he has this silly look on his face whenever he looks at me. Not that I'm spending a lot of time looking at him, Miss Journal.

  Our new troops arrive today. Stewart had the existing soldiers keeping guard on the Western force and some fixing the railway. We'll send those other soldiers back on the trains that bring the fresh troops. It's like a game of dancing chairs, running an army. Stewart said it's important to keep troops busy or they will find things to be busy doing that you don't want them to be doing.

  And soon we'll have nearly three times as many. Stewart said we will be too big to move the army by train at that point, but we will move along the railway to use it to keep supplied. We haven't used many munitions, apart from a few handfuls of the new rifle rounds, but these people need so much food!

  Maybe I'll need to ask them to bring more ink, too, though Stewart seems to use plenty.

  —A Humble Priestess

  Flying, for Penelope, was the biggest perk of being a dragon. She had learned, watching birds, where to find the cozy updrafts so she could soar without needing to flap her wings, which made it more like lying down in the air than work.

  Despite the relaxation, she kept her eyes peeled—since that was her job. Two scouts rode on her back too, though she readily ignored them. They weren't there to control her, and with the gentle gliding they weren't at risk of being jostled off.

  Though she did hear them talking. They'd been chosen specifically because last time, they'd been the scouts best able to measure distance while flying. Right now they were doing their utmost to scribe maps onto tablets—which made it the perfect time for her to spot what they were actually looking for. "Off to the right," she said, raising a claw and stretching it out to point at what she'd spotted.

  In the far distance she had seen it. Another army, about the same size as the one Stewart had taken care of already, digging themselves into the top of a series of hills. "Do you need me closer?"

  "No! This is fine!"

  Penelope did her best to hold at the edge of a mild thermal, her wings twitching here and there to cup the air enough to keep her up, but not so much she soared higher. So distracted by the action of holding still was she that when the scouts on her back called out they had everything they needed, she didn't react at first. Their second call got her attention.

  Now came the equally important part: keeping a steady pace on the way back along the railway line. The scouts on her back were quiet, working hard to measure distance as the easy, soaring flight had devolved into her flapping on and off to keep their height.

  The new flying style was less enjoyable, but nonetheless Penelope still liked it—because it was flying and took a moderate amount of focus. Intent on keeping her speed and altitude the same, Penelope took one of the scouts calling out to her for her to realize the army was below. "Hold on!"

  With the scouts growing more used to flying, and remaining on her back, Penelope felt justified in turning the descent into a crash-dive. Laughing with glee, she pulled out of it and pumped her wings hard, then reached her feet down to the ground and settled in place.

  One of the scouts all-but fell off Penelope, grabbing hold of the ground and not moving. The other jumped down and walked around to her head before bowing. "Thank you for the—interesting—ride, ma'am." There was laughter under his words.

  "Make sure the King has his report. I'm sure your friend will stop professing his love for the ground soon." Ruffling her wings and tucking them, half folded over, Penelope stepped aside from where the green-faced scout was struggling up to his wobbly feet while his companion was laughing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw money changing hands between soldiers. One thing she was learning about soldiers was that everything could be gambled on. The avarice she felt at knowing there were coins changing hands and none of them coming to her, soured her humor a little.

  "This is not fair." Breath of Spring looked up, fists on her hips, but refused to hold back her smile at the sight of her former dungeon monster friend—now tall enough to look humans in the eye. "But I'm so happy for you!"

  For Polfay, the constant itch of having a dungeon boss nearing their very center keep was an annoyance, but it was fading. Breath of Spring wasn't the only "dungeon monster" walking with Polfay's new champion. Fife was akin to a walking, talking wall of priceless amounts of adamantine—because that was precisely what she was.

  The guards of the keep, as they approached, looked tense. Fife could understand that, given her procession. With just Breath of Spring behind her, she could probably have made a good try at overwhelming the entire garrison of Polfay, assuming they didn't get their cannons turned around. She looked askance at Breath of Spring and the far taller dryad (now with a loose fitting long shirt on), and got a nod from both. "Polfay's new champion requires an escort to her rooms in the keep."

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  "'New champion'?" the guard able to keep her eyes up and level asked. She arched an eyebrow into her helmet. "Before I believe that, I'll need some pro—" She halted. The tall dryad's right arm began glowing with an intense light that resonated with the magic of the city. The guard's family had been living in Polfay for generations, and the knowledge of what that magic meant was instinctual. "Ma'am. Sorry I had to ask that, but—"

  Stepping forward, feeling Polfay encouraging her, the dryad reached out a hand and cupped the chin of the guard. "It's alright. I understand. Please, escort us to the— To the city square. I need to announce something."

  "You could do that to the nobility first." The moment she suggested it, the guard froze. The flame around the dryad's right hand burned again and, now, seemed even brighter than before. "I apologize if I've overstepped my authority."

  Polfay felt the cool and calm emotions of their new champion easing their anger. "Sorry. Getting the approval of the lords and ladies first was the standard way of doing things, but I want to change that."

  "Then we will." The dryad, realizing the guard was on the verge of eating random pieces of footwear, held up her hand to forestall any more worry. "Our home deposed their last champion because of that thinking. It's the people that make a city, and its nobility are a small part of them."

  The last hour had seen the dryad's language skills broaden hugely. A dungeon monster only had to know how to thank their home and do what they were told. A city's champion needed infinitely more words, or so she'd found, but along with Polfay's power had come the knowledge and kinship with all the people residing in them. She meditated for a moment with that power open wide, and in a second she added, "Sergeant Bethany, please escort me to the city square. The people of Polfay are already gathering."

  Having never seen the dryad before in her life, Bethany had a far more profound certainty that the dryad was now the city's champion. She bowed her head. "As you wish… P-Pardon me, Champion, but what should we call you?"

  It surprised the dryad to hear. Her mind raced as she realized that, living in a city-home, she would need a name. She didn't need to ask Polfay, her new words gave her the name she should have. "Heart. My name is Heart."

  "Lady Heart, please allow me to escort you to the town square." Waiting for a nod, Bethany turned and shouted, "Corporal, we're moving!"

  Seeing the guards quickly move to follow the request of their champion, Polfay calmed further and attempted to give Heart as many warm feelings as they could. This was how they were meant to be—working together to help everyone. Polfay could feel Travis, Breeze, Home, and even Northridge listening in, and wanted Heart to make a good impression.

  When she reached the city square, Heart found more people there than she'd ever seen before. Even more than lived in Breeze clustered into the huge intersection that normally sported lots of market activity. Now, they were all quiet as the urge to gather—extended to them by the city itself—now turned to a need to pay attention.

  The people parted around her, not needing her guards to make a path. They seemed to feel her authority even as they looked on in surprise to see the bearer of it. When she reached the center of the square and stepped up onto the small stage there, placed for exactly such announcements, everyone went quiet.

  "Polfay had a disagreement with their former champion." The words came out far louder than Heart intended. Polfay, she figured, was using some magic to amplify her voice. "When that disagreement reached its head, she became the former champion and I became our new one."

  In the lull after Heart's statement, Fife heard plenty of people voicing their own complaints to their neighbors. The former champion, she realized, wasn't exactly popular. It culminated in one person shouting, "So, what are you going to do?"

  "In case it wasn't obvious, I am a dryad. Polfay allowed my former home, a Verdant dungeon, to open a new entrance here. That dungeon has over two hundred floors of crops and animals. You are welcome to harvest, hunt, and farm there yourselves. No one in Polfay will ever go hungry again." The wild cheering made Heart smile, but the implication of it was antithesis to her very upbringing and nature.

  "A city is its people, and I will not for a second lose sight of that. If anyone has any thoughts or complaints, you will be welcome to bring them to me and I promise, I will do everything in my power to ensure Polfay becomes a city where everyone will be safe, fed, and prosperous."

  Polfay could feel the swells of emotions coming from the populace as quickly as they happened. The people, they realized, not only didn't like the old champion, but many actively hated her. "I thought I was doing what they wanted. How could I have been blind to her?"

  Travis said, "You can't change the past. You can only learn from it and do better in the future." The words had been spoken to him often enough. He'd made mistakes, but he liked to think he was doing better now. "Is Heart listening to their emotions through you?"

  "Y-Yeah," Polfay was as surprised to feel that as they were at Heart's actions themselves. "She's using my magic to find out what they want!"

  "Heart loves her people," Breeze said, her words soft and breathy, laden with pride.

  "Fife," Travis said, directing his voice specifically at her, "can you stay with her for a while? She is going to be popular with the people, but I think the nobles of the city are going to be harder to win over."

  Nodding, Fife rolled her shoulders and stretched a wing out. "You got it, Trav. Does this mean I get to beat up a noble or three?"

  "Maybe. Just make sure they don't hurt her. If Heart got killed now, the city might erupt into a civil war."

  In the midst of the cheering populace, who seemed to have barely noticed that Heart wasn't entirely human or elven, Fife nodded her head. "Be the shield. Got it."

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