"This city just liberated itself from one tyrant, and I won't allow it to fall under the heel of another. If you refuse to obey me, I'll replace you as commander."

"And howo d you do that?"

Arista revealed a faint smile. "Think hard…I'm sure you can figure it out."

Renquist continued to stare at her, then his eyes widened in realization and fear flashed across his face.

"Yes," she told him, "the rumors about me are true. Now take your army out of the city before I feel a need to prove it. You have just one day to remove them. Scouts found a suitable valley to the north. I suggest you camp where the river crosses the road. It is far enough away to prevent further trouble. There is plenty of water, fish, and wood for fires. By heading north, your men will feel they are progressing toward the goal of Aquesta, thus helping morale."

"Don't tell me how to run my army," he snapped, although not as loudly, nor as confidently as before.

"My apologies," she said, with a bow of her head. "It was only a suggestion. The order to leave the city, however, is not. Good evening to you, sir."

Renquist hesitated, his breath labored, his hands balled into fists.

"I said good evening, sir."

He muttered a curse and left, slamming the door behind him.

Exhausted, Arista slumped in her chair.

Why does everything have to be so hard?

Everyone wanted something from her now: food, shelter, assurances that everything would be all right. The citizens looked at her and saw hope, but Arista could see little herself. Plagued by endless problems and surrounded by people, she felt oddly alone.