Reuben was standing at the edge of the training grounds, watching a few dozen of his recruits train. Only about half of them were peasants and Luntberg guards—the rest were former soldiers of the Margrave. Reuben had watched them intently in the last week, and not once had he been able to catch one of them at any sign of disloyalty.

On the contrary, most of them seemed rather relieved that they had switched sides and were now sitting behind these nice, solid stone walls, not in front of them. They also seemed devoted to that smarmy, birdy-loving bastard Sir Gegor, who, in turn, was devoted to Ayla. A little too devoted for Reuben's taste. But unfortunately, he hadn't found any justification to rip the fellow's guts out yet. Not a justification Ayla would accept, anyway.

If Reuben was being honest with himself, which he rarely was if he could help it, he was fiercely proud of Ayla for having won the enemy soldiers, including that Sir Gregor, over to their side. Only a master at leadership could accomplish something like that. Although he'd rather drink a whole cauldron full of scolding hot fennel soup before admitting that to her, of course.

"Faster!" He shouted at a soldier who was just raising his crossbow at a target. "You must move faster! Or do you think the enemy is going to sit still, waiting for you to shoot?"

Actually, the man's speed had been quite good. But there was no need to tell him that, was there?

Grinning, Reuben leant back against the wall and watched the soldier struggle to load and shoot more quickly. Being an instructor was really quite fun.

Suddenly, he sniffed the air, as an unexpected odor registered in his mind.

Smoke? Was someone baking?

Alarm bells began ringing in the back of his head. Somehow, this didn't smell like a baker's fire. Destruction had its own scent, a scent which Reuben knew all too well. The air was full of it now.

Before he had even realized what he was doing he had pushed away from the wall and was running.

"Come with me!"

His voice easily carried over the noise of the firing crossbows. The zitt zitt was abruptly cut off and at least half of the men fell into a run immediately, the rest following a few seconds later. They had learned to listen when Reuben bellowed a command.

The farther Reuben got, the thicker the stench of smoke became. Around the corner of the keep, farther ahead, he could see red light flickering. Doubling his speed, he shouted encouragements to his men. When they finally rounded the corner, everyone stopped in their tracks.

Bright red light reflected off the stone walls, right and left. The flames from which it came surged out of a wooden outbuilding standing not far from the inner wall. Reuben recognized it immediately: it was the building in which the unused crossbows were stored. And next to the building, smiling broadly as if he had won a great victory, stood Gernot the peasant.

Reuben was quite familiar with murderous rage. Many times in his life had he lusted to end someone's life, to throttle them, to drive his lance through their chest or to rip their heads off with his bare hands—or do all those things at once.

But never before in his life had he wanted to go back in time and kill someone when he had last had the chance. Before, he had always taken the first chance. But that had been before Aylay.

"Men!" he bellowed. "Attention! You!" He pointed to one of the three lances of men that had followed him. "If the door isn't blocked yet, get inside there and get the crossbows out, now! You!" He rounded on the other lance. "Form a bucket chain! I want to see water here in five seconds, understood?"

The men ran off without hesitation.

"And as for you—" Slowly, Reuben turned his burning gaze on Gernot. It was at least three times as hot as the flames consuming the wooden outbuilding.

Gernot met his gaze steadily. There was arrogance in his eyes. Reuben had seen this look before, years ago, in the Holy Land, on the faces of both crusaders and Saracens alike, as they battled over the oh so holy city of Jerusalem. Some men believed they had God on their side. After that, there was no arguing with them. The best you could hope for was cutting their throats quickly.

"I have done the Lord's work, demon," Gernot proclaimed, confirming Reuben's suspicions. "Today, I have saved hundreds of souls from the fires of hell."

"Is that so?"

Distantly, Reuben was aware of men hurrying everywhere around him, shouting, carrying crates with crossbows and buckets full of water. But his entire focus was on Gernot, on that arrogant, sublime look on his face.

"Then you ought to be rewarded for your bravery," Reuben snarled, prowling towards the peasant, picking out the best spots to strike. "How about I speed your way to heaven?"

"You intend to harm me demon?" Gernot raised his chin defiantly. "You cannot touch me! I have the strength of ten because my heart is pure."

Reuben's fist hit him in the face like a sledgehammer. It was an immensely satisfying feeling. With a strangled cry, the peasant sailed backwards and smashed into the wall of another building he hadn't managed to set on fire yet, the bastard!

"Anyone else around here whose heart is pure?" Reuben roared, flashing his gaze around at the crowd who had gathered to gape at the fire. He was greeted with frantic headshakes. "Good! If you come across any idiot spouting nonsense like that, send him my way! Now go help the soldiers put out the fire!"

Turning towards the groaning form of Gernot on the ground, Reuben gripped the hilt of his sword and was about to draw it, when an idea struck him. Oh no. The sword was too great a mercy for this despicable worm.

"You think you saved hundreds of souls from eternal damnation, don't you?" he asked, making his voice calm and sweet. "You think you saved them from the fires of hell?"

"Yes," Gernot growled. "I do!"

"Well then... I think it's only right that you taste the fires yourself. So you know what you have accomplished."

Before the other man could protest, Reuben's hand shot out and gripped him by the collar. With one easy, fluid movement, he tore the fanatic up from the ground, dangling him in the air like a hawk might dangle a mouse from its beak.

While everywhere around them soldiers and villagers still ran carrying water and smoking crates, Reuben strode to the crossbow storhouse, Gernot trapped firmly in his grasp. It wasn't until they had almost reached the back of the house, where the fire was burning the brightest, so hotly that the firefighters hadn't dared to approach it yet, that Gernot realized what Reuben was planning to do.

"No! You demon! Unholy beast! Let go of me!"

Reuben smiled. He could feel a slight warmth from the fire, and his skin already felt a bit dry, but other than that, he felt no adverse effects. Gernot, on the other hand, seemed to be sweating from every poor, and turned his head from one side to another, trying to escape Reuben's hold.

"Don't! How can you even think of—You're no man! You're a monster!"

"What's the matter, Gernot?" Reuben whispered into the peasant ear. "Don't you appreciate what you've done for all those poor souls? Feel. Just feel. This is what you've saved them from."

Gripping Gernot's wrist, he brought his fingers closer to the flames, until the man screamed and blisters begain to form on his skin.

"They might die a miserable death on earth," Reuben continued, in a pensive tone of voice, "but what does that matter? All that counts is that they achieve eternal bliss in paradise, right, Gernot?"

"Yes!" The fanatic got out between clenched teeth.

"The women might be raped, the men slaughtered, and the children burned alive—but that doesn't matter, because they'll find bliss in heaven?"

"Yes!"

"Interesting. So if I throw you into the fire now, it won't matter, because you'll go straight to heaven, too, right?"

"Y-yes!" Gernot repeated. But his voice sounded considerably less sure this time.

"How wonderful!" Suddenly, Reuben's voice lost all of its false sweetness, and it dropped to a murderous tone. "I would like nothing better than to help you, Gernot. Fly, angel, fly!"

Reaching back with his arm, Reuben prepared to hurl the arrogant piece of worms' meat into the flames.

"Reuben Rachwild! What the blazes do you think you're doing?"

Reuben's arm froze. He knew that voice.

Stitching a smile on his face, he turned around, giving a slight bow, the peasant still dangling by the neck from his outstretched hand.

"Why, Milady! I'm adding a bit of fuel to the blazes, of course!"

From the way Ayla's eyes flashed, neither this reply nor the fact that he still had a grip on Gernot that was nearly tight enough to choke improved her mood.

"I mean what are you doing with him?" she demanded, gesturing at the red-faced peasant. "I thought I told you he was to be left alone!"

"Well, yes," Reuben agreed, with false cheerfulness. "That was before he tried to set our arsenal on fire, though. I must admit that changed my views about him to some extent."

"What?" Ayla's eyes jumped from the choking peasant to the blazing house behind him. "You mean he did this?"

"You mustn't blame the man. He was on a mission from God to save our satanic souls."

"Is that so?" Ayla's eyes flashed even more dangerously than before—but now they weren't directed at Reuben anymore. They were focused on Gernot the peasant. Reuben was beginning to feel glad he hadn't hurled him into the fire. To judge by the look on Ayla's face, a fate awaited the fanatic peasant compared to which burning alive might be considered a pleasant pastime.

Somehow, although the firefighting was still going on all around them, a hush seemed to settle about everything. Taking a deep breath, Ayla stepped towards Gernot, her gaze burrowing into him.

"Did you do this, Gernot?" she asked. She didn't sound angry. She didn't even sound remotely aware that in the flames behind Reuben, all their hopes might be going up in flames just now. But in her eyes, there was an icy fury. "Well? Is this your doing?"

Gernot met her gaze with a haughty one of his own. He said nothing—but he didn't need to.

"I see." Ayla nodded. "Reuben? Please see to it that the fire is put out. Then bring this creature to me. I shall await you in the great hall to hold court."