Good.one or two psychopats would happen in RL,but most are normal people who want to do what is good /in their opinion/
Besides,we arleady have Zorzal.With him,story do not need more psychos.
Good.one or two psychopats would happen in RL,but most are normal people who want to do what is good /in their opinion/
Besides,we arleady have Zorzal.With him,story do not need more psychos.
PsihoKekec
Swashbuckling Accountant
Cardboard cutout villains are easy mode, it's good to see an antagonist with some depth.
Indeed,and i made one mistake - psychos are very intelligient,and Zorzal is not smart.Just average sadist.So - author have place for one smart psycho in his story,becouse,according to what i read,psychos and sociopaths are less then 1% of population.
And they never do cruel things just for fun - only for profit,and when doing so is safe.
Chapter 6
charclone
Well-known member
They moved single file, along a deer trail. Careful to leave few records of their passing. Elomorna using her magic to subtly alter the trail.
It was Tara that first heard it.
"Wait." She said in a hushed and alarmed voice.
Everyone froze, as she listened. She heard the clanking of armour, shouts of orders. Men marching in formation. Parallel to their to their path.
"Stay hidden. I'll go check." Hannah vanished with the grass and bush.
No one dared to breath to loudly.
After several minutes she returned.
"I overheard them complaining about marching back to Alnus." She said with a grin. "Looks like they gave up the chase. We killed the last Centurion. Saw a new one marching with them."
Tara scratched and muttered a translation as best she could to Richard.
He glanced back in the direction of the camp. He pointed.
"Smoke." He pointed to the marching men. "Soldiers, loud."
He scratched in the dirt with the point of his sword.
Tara blinked and nodded.
"Smoke from the camp still. They left a force behind to chase us, probably straight into them."
Hannah grinned.
"Then we hunt them instead." She hefted the bow and arrows she carried. "With Richard's plan, we could do a lot more than just kill a few to buy time."
Tara frowned.
Richard glanced at the elves; his expression unreadable behind his helm.
"I'm for it." Elomorna said.
Her lover blinked.
"Are you sure?" Kenwen asked her.
"Yes. We have a better chance if we aren't pursued."
Richard looked at her and nodded.
As a group, they turned around, and went back the way they had come. They had preparations to make.
Captain Johnson rubbed his eyes.
"We've found some of Richard's things. Armour is missing. We don't know for sure its him but… he is definitely missing. Isn't among the bodies." He reported. "We also found the Major. His wife informed us of where he had been planning to go. Found his car off a nearby road, crossbow bolt to the chest when he tried to get out."
General Samuel Jameson winced.
"Well, I assume you've put the call up your chain of command?"
"Yessir. No solid word on if or when we will get a replacement."
"Fine." Samuel sighed. At least the Canadians spoke English. Having to learn a language, and deal with a subordinate that spoke very bad English, was an experience he hated dealing with. It made things much harder. "The eggheads, sorry, scientists, got a report together. In short, they don't understand a thing about it. How it works, where it came from, or where it goes. Might as well be magic."
Johnson snorted.
"Any news on when we can cross?"
"Not yet, captain. Eggheads are sending a probe over, some sort of rover. I want you to keep your people dug in where they are. If the scientists say it is safe to cross, then you will be the first unit across. Reinforcements should arrive by the end of the week, with enough supplies we can actually engage, but I'm not going to throw men into the pits of hell, just because we didn't look before we leap."
The Canadian captain nodded.
"When was the last time you slept, captain?"
"Yesterday, sir. I've been up checking over the mop up and getting my troops dug in."
"Once we are done here, go get some rack time." General Jameson ordered. "You unit is being transferred to my command. I'm keeping you in command, for now."
He gestured to the map of the surrounding area on his desk.
"I'll transfer your unit back for a day. Rest, rearm. I've got some Marines ready that can take your place. Once we get word back on what the other side is like, I want you as part of the first wave. I was impressed with how your unit reacted when word came down."
"Now, get some rest major."
"Yessir."
The General sighed after the Canadian had left.
He looked over the politely worded request. The scientists that had been attached had more or less demanded he not send anything over, partly out of fear of destabilising whatever the gate actually was. The other part was the wanted 'dedicated equipment to ensure accurate readings'. Which translated to him as 'don't let your monkey brained soldiers do anything, they might break something'.
He shook his head. The head scientist had been polite, at least. It was probably an intern that misunderstood what they wanted the letter to say. Wouldn't be the first time a subordinate misunderstood command.
At least they would have their rover ready to go in a few hours. He had put his foot down when they suggested using one of NASA's. Sure, it would have everything they needed, and then some, but an EOD rover with some modifications was cheaper and faster. He needed to know if it was safe to send people over their, and if they could fight safely. Not how much water there was in the soil. That could wait until they had a foothold.
He blinked when a staff officer delivered a request from them a minute later.
"What do they need a squad of soldiers going to a bunch of computer and hardware stores for?"
He read further.
"Oh." He snorted. "Well, good to see my initial impression was incorrect. They aren't a bunch of intellectual asses. But that is a lot of Raspberry Pis, and… well, never mind. It's a reasonable request I suppose."
"I don't care about some prisoner you lost, Count Bonifatius. I am busy preparing for the otherworlder's counterattack, and for the army to launch raids to keep them off balance." Senator Godasen spat. "Be glad I'm not calling you out for your cowardice."
If pressed, Godasen would have said he was referring to the Count's desire to leave the field and take his son's body home. But everyone present in the Senator's tent knew he was referring to the Count's decision to leave the other world, making him the only noble to survive the trip to the other side.
Fewer realised that the only thing keeping the senator from accusing the count of cowardice was the fact that Prince Zorzal had been a friend and backer of the count's son. One, not even a senator, did not make an enemy of an Imperial prince lightly.
"I see, senator." Several officers flinched at the count's tone of voice. "The you do not care if he escapes past the gate, and reports what he has seen of your defences? Or if he rallies the slaves into a rebellion?"
"Such would fall on your head, count. He was your prisoner."
"Yet, you are preventing me from correcting 'my' mistake. You are not the only one with friends in the Senate. I wonder what the Emperor would think of my report, noting that you are explicitly forbidding me from securing the surrounding countryside."
"Don't you dare try power plays with me." Godasen waved a finger at the count. "You might have powerful backers, but it only with the support of the Senate that the Prince will be named heir."
Count Arruns held the senator's gaze. After several moment, the senator glanced away.
"We are wasting breath. Fine." He spat. "Leave all but your personal guard, and I will permit you to hunt for the escaped prisoner. The Auxiliaries and the rest of your men will help dig and fortify against the counterattack. Once we drive them back, we will launch our own attack, and crush these barbarians."
Centurion Amulius had a feeling the senator would not be able see such a plan to fruition, but he wasn't sure if it was just him being jittery, or if it was a portent from the Gods.
"Very well, senator." The count ground out through clenched teeth. Without being dismissed, he led his officers from the tent. He stormed through Godasen's camp, making his way to his own forces. "How many men does that leave us?"
"About thirty." Amulius reported. "Enough, but… if the Knight is any good at woodsmanship, and is smart, he might slip past us pretty easy. We don't have any hounds either and I wouldn't trust any of Godasen's men, even if we could borrow them."
"Fine." He sighed. "We'll make do. We will make do."
The walked in silence, passing soldiers and slaves working hard to quickly dig fortification.
They both winced when an overseer decided a group was not working hard or fast enough and began to lay into them with his vine. They recognised the soldiers and saw the fearful look in the overseers eyes.
Whatever they had seen on the other side of the Gate had frightened them. Enough that they were desperate not to face it again. Morale was low.
"Might have a revolt on our hands, from all the slaves and auxiliaries, sir."
"Probably why Godasen is working them so hard. Keep them too tired to do anything else." The count shook his head. "He can't keep it up, though. I hope he was at least smart enough to call for reinforcements."
"With the way he was talking? He probably thinks that the survivors are cowards."
It was Tara that first heard it.
"Wait." She said in a hushed and alarmed voice.
Everyone froze, as she listened. She heard the clanking of armour, shouts of orders. Men marching in formation. Parallel to their to their path.
"Stay hidden. I'll go check." Hannah vanished with the grass and bush.
No one dared to breath to loudly.
After several minutes she returned.
"I overheard them complaining about marching back to Alnus." She said with a grin. "Looks like they gave up the chase. We killed the last Centurion. Saw a new one marching with them."
Tara scratched and muttered a translation as best she could to Richard.
He glanced back in the direction of the camp. He pointed.
"Smoke." He pointed to the marching men. "Soldiers, loud."
He scratched in the dirt with the point of his sword.
Tara blinked and nodded.
"Smoke from the camp still. They left a force behind to chase us, probably straight into them."
Hannah grinned.
"Then we hunt them instead." She hefted the bow and arrows she carried. "With Richard's plan, we could do a lot more than just kill a few to buy time."
Tara frowned.
Richard glanced at the elves; his expression unreadable behind his helm.
"I'm for it." Elomorna said.
Her lover blinked.
"Are you sure?" Kenwen asked her.
"Yes. We have a better chance if we aren't pursued."
Richard looked at her and nodded.
As a group, they turned around, and went back the way they had come. They had preparations to make.
Captain Johnson rubbed his eyes.
"We've found some of Richard's things. Armour is missing. We don't know for sure its him but… he is definitely missing. Isn't among the bodies." He reported. "We also found the Major. His wife informed us of where he had been planning to go. Found his car off a nearby road, crossbow bolt to the chest when he tried to get out."
General Samuel Jameson winced.
"Well, I assume you've put the call up your chain of command?"
"Yessir. No solid word on if or when we will get a replacement."
"Fine." Samuel sighed. At least the Canadians spoke English. Having to learn a language, and deal with a subordinate that spoke very bad English, was an experience he hated dealing with. It made things much harder. "The eggheads, sorry, scientists, got a report together. In short, they don't understand a thing about it. How it works, where it came from, or where it goes. Might as well be magic."
Johnson snorted.
"Any news on when we can cross?"
"Not yet, captain. Eggheads are sending a probe over, some sort of rover. I want you to keep your people dug in where they are. If the scientists say it is safe to cross, then you will be the first unit across. Reinforcements should arrive by the end of the week, with enough supplies we can actually engage, but I'm not going to throw men into the pits of hell, just because we didn't look before we leap."
The Canadian captain nodded.
"When was the last time you slept, captain?"
"Yesterday, sir. I've been up checking over the mop up and getting my troops dug in."
"Once we are done here, go get some rack time." General Jameson ordered. "You unit is being transferred to my command. I'm keeping you in command, for now."
He gestured to the map of the surrounding area on his desk.
"I'll transfer your unit back for a day. Rest, rearm. I've got some Marines ready that can take your place. Once we get word back on what the other side is like, I want you as part of the first wave. I was impressed with how your unit reacted when word came down."
"Now, get some rest major."
"Yessir."
The General sighed after the Canadian had left.
He looked over the politely worded request. The scientists that had been attached had more or less demanded he not send anything over, partly out of fear of destabilising whatever the gate actually was. The other part was the wanted 'dedicated equipment to ensure accurate readings'. Which translated to him as 'don't let your monkey brained soldiers do anything, they might break something'.
He shook his head. The head scientist had been polite, at least. It was probably an intern that misunderstood what they wanted the letter to say. Wouldn't be the first time a subordinate misunderstood command.
At least they would have their rover ready to go in a few hours. He had put his foot down when they suggested using one of NASA's. Sure, it would have everything they needed, and then some, but an EOD rover with some modifications was cheaper and faster. He needed to know if it was safe to send people over their, and if they could fight safely. Not how much water there was in the soil. That could wait until they had a foothold.
He blinked when a staff officer delivered a request from them a minute later.
"What do they need a squad of soldiers going to a bunch of computer and hardware stores for?"
He read further.
"Oh." He snorted. "Well, good to see my initial impression was incorrect. They aren't a bunch of intellectual asses. But that is a lot of Raspberry Pis, and… well, never mind. It's a reasonable request I suppose."
"I don't care about some prisoner you lost, Count Bonifatius. I am busy preparing for the otherworlder's counterattack, and for the army to launch raids to keep them off balance." Senator Godasen spat. "Be glad I'm not calling you out for your cowardice."
If pressed, Godasen would have said he was referring to the Count's desire to leave the field and take his son's body home. But everyone present in the Senator's tent knew he was referring to the Count's decision to leave the other world, making him the only noble to survive the trip to the other side.
Fewer realised that the only thing keeping the senator from accusing the count of cowardice was the fact that Prince Zorzal had been a friend and backer of the count's son. One, not even a senator, did not make an enemy of an Imperial prince lightly.
"I see, senator." Several officers flinched at the count's tone of voice. "The you do not care if he escapes past the gate, and reports what he has seen of your defences? Or if he rallies the slaves into a rebellion?"
"Such would fall on your head, count. He was your prisoner."
"Yet, you are preventing me from correcting 'my' mistake. You are not the only one with friends in the Senate. I wonder what the Emperor would think of my report, noting that you are explicitly forbidding me from securing the surrounding countryside."
"Don't you dare try power plays with me." Godasen waved a finger at the count. "You might have powerful backers, but it only with the support of the Senate that the Prince will be named heir."
Count Arruns held the senator's gaze. After several moment, the senator glanced away.
"We are wasting breath. Fine." He spat. "Leave all but your personal guard, and I will permit you to hunt for the escaped prisoner. The Auxiliaries and the rest of your men will help dig and fortify against the counterattack. Once we drive them back, we will launch our own attack, and crush these barbarians."
Centurion Amulius had a feeling the senator would not be able see such a plan to fruition, but he wasn't sure if it was just him being jittery, or if it was a portent from the Gods.
"Very well, senator." The count ground out through clenched teeth. Without being dismissed, he led his officers from the tent. He stormed through Godasen's camp, making his way to his own forces. "How many men does that leave us?"
"About thirty." Amulius reported. "Enough, but… if the Knight is any good at woodsmanship, and is smart, he might slip past us pretty easy. We don't have any hounds either and I wouldn't trust any of Godasen's men, even if we could borrow them."
"Fine." He sighed. "We'll make do. We will make do."
The walked in silence, passing soldiers and slaves working hard to quickly dig fortification.
They both winced when an overseer decided a group was not working hard or fast enough and began to lay into them with his vine. They recognised the soldiers and saw the fearful look in the overseers eyes.
Whatever they had seen on the other side of the Gate had frightened them. Enough that they were desperate not to face it again. Morale was low.
"Might have a revolt on our hands, from all the slaves and auxiliaries, sir."
"Probably why Godasen is working them so hard. Keep them too tired to do anything else." The count shook his head. "He can't keep it up, though. I hope he was at least smart enough to call for reinforcements."
"With the way he was talking? He probably thinks that the survivors are cowards."
Americans 20 years ago or so made unmanned version of Bradley.Or ,to be precise,just normal Bradley with better computer and reloading gun and HMG.
If they still have them,they should be send first.
And 2 elves,2 bunnies against 30 pseudo-romans? they should win even without black knight.
If they still have them,they should be send first.
And 2 elves,2 bunnies against 30 pseudo-romans? they should win even without black knight.
Chapter 7
charclone
Well-known member
The Optio was freshly promoted. He had volunteered to lead the twenty, thinking it to be an easy mission. Go in, find the prisoner and slave, capture them, and bring them back. Drive them toward the main body if possible. They had chosen to wait until nightfall. Yes, the slaves would be further, but that was fine. They knew where they were going, the prisoner and slaves would be exhausted, and if they went slow to cover their trail, they wouldn't be very far in a forest. If they went fast, it would be easy to follow them.
Instead, it had been an exercise in misery.
The new Optio had assumed the trick against the old Centurion had been a bit of luck. He was wrong. Very wrong. The targets couldn't be far, not with the number of traps they had lain.
He leaned against his spear, keeping the injured foot off the ground.
The first trap they found had been a log, dropped from a tree branch when the thin rope was pulled by a foot. They kept off the trails after it crushed a legionary.
But that only meant they were running into more cleverly hidden traps, as the Optio had discovered. A shallow pit, with a group sharpened sticks around the outside, tore his foot open. Another had been tripped, and had his throat tore open by a pair of similar traps.
A branch with a stone grown into the end used as a spring-loaded club was far to common for the Optio's liking. Between injuries and deaths, he had twelve that could fight, only three without any injuries, counting himself. They still outnumbered their prey, but not nearly as much as they would like.
"I should not have volunteered for this." He sighed.
A sudden cry of surprise, and a legionary vanished into a hidden crevasse. The forest was silent, and the remaining legionaries froze. The Optio counted his heartbeats. At ten, another scream echoed out, this time with words.
"Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!" The soldier cried flailing a snake that had sank its fangs into his leg. Someone hit him over the head, freezing him long enough for the snake to be killed.
"Have the very gods turned against us? Is that what we heard through the Gate?" The Optio wondered aloud.
"Oooh… it burns, it burns… should it look that colour?"
The Optio sighed.
"Get him back to camp. The leg looks like its swelling, must have been a Hardy's Beloved."
The soldiers sighed in relief, aside from the one moaning on the ground. He might still survive if the medicine they had worked. The Hardy's Beloved snake was rare, and very deadly, the only blessing was that it rarely stayed around civilisation.
The ten remaining demoralised soldiers slowly made their way back to camp, carrying the dead and wounded, unaware that they had been watched the entire time.
Tara slipped into her companions' camp.
There was no fire this time. To much a risk of the light being seen. But they rested all the same.
With five people, instead of three, the supplies wouldn't last long. They bought time, but not much. But the traps had bought them even mor time.
"Well?" Hannah pressed.
"They are falling back, and have lost around half their strength, with most wounded. But they mentioned their Count was coming, and they were to drive us to them." She answered, scribbling a pictogram into the dirt.
She had Richard conversed, in broken Saderan and pictrograms.
Hannah snorted.
"If you are trying to get on his good side, there are faster ways to do that."
"And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"
"Well, you're a Warrior Bunny, and he's a man."
Tara made a face of disgust.
"I'm not going to further those idiotic rumours."
"They weren't true?"
The two Warrior Bunnies glanced at the male elf. Kenwen flinched and held his hands up.
"I… uh…"
"We aren't nearly as dependant on other races as the rumours suggest, no. There was a notable slant toward female births, but it was more a case of… I think it was three girls for every boy? But that only encouraged tribes to seek mates outside of their number." Tara sighed as she explained.
Richard made a choking sound, stood up and walked away red faced.
Tara gave him a questioning look, only for Elmorna's giggling to catch her attention.
Tara stared at the pictograms Elmorna had drawn to show James what had been discussed. In far too great a level of detail. She felt her face blush.
"Hah! You Forest-on-the-Hill Clan are a bunch of prudes." Hannah mocked.
"At least our mates chose to stick with us!" Tara countered.
Hannah snorted.
"And that's a good thing? Don't you ever get tired of them?" She shook her head. "Never mind. Its growing late, and we will need to prepare for tomorrow."
Tara huffed. She picked up her spear and went off to find where Richard had wandered off to, ignoring both Elmorna apologetic look, and Hannah's snickering.
"So, sir, they got confirmation that its Richard."
Captain Johnson glanced up from his supper.
"How?" He asked the Lt., after swallowing.
"One of the survivors was set to duel him, armoured up along side him. He was on the bus Richard bought time for."
Johnson swore.
"Okay, has the general been informed?"
"Yessir."
"What about his family?"
"Not yet, sir. It was only confirmed a few minutes ago."
He sighed.
"Okay. I'm a friend of the family. I'll call them. Thank you, Lt.,"
"Of course sir."
The Captain wolfed down the rest of his meal as the Lt. left.
He fished his phone from his pocket and punched in an ill-used number.
"Hello? Yeah, its me… I have some bad news… Richard is alive, but…"
Centurion Amulius nodded with satisfaction.
The plan was… good enough. But it required the other group to be already pushing them toward Sacred Alnus.
They had at least been able to secure good supplies, some bows, and the 'members' of the guard were experienced woodsmen. Trackers, and hunters mostly.
With any luck, not only would it be over quickly, but none of their troops would suffer at Godasen's hand. He was working them and working them hard. Perhaps too hard, as the veterans and officers that had escaped from the other side of the Gate were in a frenzy. Terrified of what they had seen.
He had pinned one and forced him to talk. All he got out of the man was that they appeared to be some form of mage nation, or perhaps used enchanted crossbows in their forces. They had seen none of the enemy, instead, they had faced flying swords and birds, that smashed formations with ease, and armoured beasts of some sort, that hurled fire.
There had been rumours of the enemies forces, being on the ground, moving in the shadows, firing some strange staff, which Amulius took to be some sort of slim crossbow, but it was only rumours, as those who had seen them, where declared cowards, and either in chains, working alongside slaves, or had been tied to posts and lashed, depending on rank.
It was no matter to the Count or Amulius. They would be away, the Count's feudal obligation already paid much earlier, in excess, during the war with the Warrior Bunnies, and later mop ups of bandits. Soon, they would be headed home, with a prisoner to show for it, and far away from the otherworlder's counterattack.
Amulius looked at the earthworks and fortifications and frowned.
A barricade was at the Gate, but most of the fortifications were around the hill, to keep the enemy penned in, he assumed, yet, if they fought at range, the elevation of the hill was surrendered to them, giving them an advantage.
He thought about mentioning it to the Count, but then decided against it. Let the Senator dig his own grave.
Instead, it had been an exercise in misery.
The new Optio had assumed the trick against the old Centurion had been a bit of luck. He was wrong. Very wrong. The targets couldn't be far, not with the number of traps they had lain.
He leaned against his spear, keeping the injured foot off the ground.
The first trap they found had been a log, dropped from a tree branch when the thin rope was pulled by a foot. They kept off the trails after it crushed a legionary.
But that only meant they were running into more cleverly hidden traps, as the Optio had discovered. A shallow pit, with a group sharpened sticks around the outside, tore his foot open. Another had been tripped, and had his throat tore open by a pair of similar traps.
A branch with a stone grown into the end used as a spring-loaded club was far to common for the Optio's liking. Between injuries and deaths, he had twelve that could fight, only three without any injuries, counting himself. They still outnumbered their prey, but not nearly as much as they would like.
"I should not have volunteered for this." He sighed.
A sudden cry of surprise, and a legionary vanished into a hidden crevasse. The forest was silent, and the remaining legionaries froze. The Optio counted his heartbeats. At ten, another scream echoed out, this time with words.
"Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff!" The soldier cried flailing a snake that had sank its fangs into his leg. Someone hit him over the head, freezing him long enough for the snake to be killed.
"Have the very gods turned against us? Is that what we heard through the Gate?" The Optio wondered aloud.
"Oooh… it burns, it burns… should it look that colour?"
The Optio sighed.
"Get him back to camp. The leg looks like its swelling, must have been a Hardy's Beloved."
The soldiers sighed in relief, aside from the one moaning on the ground. He might still survive if the medicine they had worked. The Hardy's Beloved snake was rare, and very deadly, the only blessing was that it rarely stayed around civilisation.
The ten remaining demoralised soldiers slowly made their way back to camp, carrying the dead and wounded, unaware that they had been watched the entire time.
Tara slipped into her companions' camp.
There was no fire this time. To much a risk of the light being seen. But they rested all the same.
With five people, instead of three, the supplies wouldn't last long. They bought time, but not much. But the traps had bought them even mor time.
"Well?" Hannah pressed.
"They are falling back, and have lost around half their strength, with most wounded. But they mentioned their Count was coming, and they were to drive us to them." She answered, scribbling a pictogram into the dirt.
She had Richard conversed, in broken Saderan and pictrograms.
Hannah snorted.
"If you are trying to get on his good side, there are faster ways to do that."
"And what, exactly, do you mean by that?"
"Well, you're a Warrior Bunny, and he's a man."
Tara made a face of disgust.
"I'm not going to further those idiotic rumours."
"They weren't true?"
The two Warrior Bunnies glanced at the male elf. Kenwen flinched and held his hands up.
"I… uh…"
"We aren't nearly as dependant on other races as the rumours suggest, no. There was a notable slant toward female births, but it was more a case of… I think it was three girls for every boy? But that only encouraged tribes to seek mates outside of their number." Tara sighed as she explained.
Richard made a choking sound, stood up and walked away red faced.
Tara gave him a questioning look, only for Elmorna's giggling to catch her attention.
Tara stared at the pictograms Elmorna had drawn to show James what had been discussed. In far too great a level of detail. She felt her face blush.
"Hah! You Forest-on-the-Hill Clan are a bunch of prudes." Hannah mocked.
"At least our mates chose to stick with us!" Tara countered.
Hannah snorted.
"And that's a good thing? Don't you ever get tired of them?" She shook her head. "Never mind. Its growing late, and we will need to prepare for tomorrow."
Tara huffed. She picked up her spear and went off to find where Richard had wandered off to, ignoring both Elmorna apologetic look, and Hannah's snickering.
"So, sir, they got confirmation that its Richard."
Captain Johnson glanced up from his supper.
"How?" He asked the Lt., after swallowing.
"One of the survivors was set to duel him, armoured up along side him. He was on the bus Richard bought time for."
Johnson swore.
"Okay, has the general been informed?"
"Yessir."
"What about his family?"
"Not yet, sir. It was only confirmed a few minutes ago."
He sighed.
"Okay. I'm a friend of the family. I'll call them. Thank you, Lt.,"
"Of course sir."
The Captain wolfed down the rest of his meal as the Lt. left.
He fished his phone from his pocket and punched in an ill-used number.
"Hello? Yeah, its me… I have some bad news… Richard is alive, but…"
Centurion Amulius nodded with satisfaction.
The plan was… good enough. But it required the other group to be already pushing them toward Sacred Alnus.
They had at least been able to secure good supplies, some bows, and the 'members' of the guard were experienced woodsmen. Trackers, and hunters mostly.
With any luck, not only would it be over quickly, but none of their troops would suffer at Godasen's hand. He was working them and working them hard. Perhaps too hard, as the veterans and officers that had escaped from the other side of the Gate were in a frenzy. Terrified of what they had seen.
He had pinned one and forced him to talk. All he got out of the man was that they appeared to be some form of mage nation, or perhaps used enchanted crossbows in their forces. They had seen none of the enemy, instead, they had faced flying swords and birds, that smashed formations with ease, and armoured beasts of some sort, that hurled fire.
There had been rumours of the enemies forces, being on the ground, moving in the shadows, firing some strange staff, which Amulius took to be some sort of slim crossbow, but it was only rumours, as those who had seen them, where declared cowards, and either in chains, working alongside slaves, or had been tied to posts and lashed, depending on rank.
It was no matter to the Count or Amulius. They would be away, the Count's feudal obligation already paid much earlier, in excess, during the war with the Warrior Bunnies, and later mop ups of bandits. Soon, they would be headed home, with a prisoner to show for it, and far away from the otherworlder's counterattack.
Amulius looked at the earthworks and fortifications and frowned.
A barricade was at the Gate, but most of the fortifications were around the hill, to keep the enemy penned in, he assumed, yet, if they fought at range, the elevation of the hill was surrendered to them, giving them an advantage.
He thought about mentioning it to the Count, but then decided against it. Let the Senator dig his own grave.
Chapter 8
charclone
Well-known member
The count glanced back, to the camp where his men were being put to work in the early light of dawn. He flinched at the sound of a whip.
"Senator Godasen will have much to answer for." He muttered. "Optio… my apologies. Centurion, let's get moving."
Centurion Amulius smothered a snort at the count's mistake.
"Yessir." He barked orders to the remaining soldiers with them, before turning and asking a question to his liege. "Sire… why has the senator pushed for the fortifications to be raised so quickly?"
"Because he is a fool." Count Amulius looked over the hill of Sacred Alnus, and the fortifications around it, as he walked with his troops. "Do you know how many troops were with the army that went through the Gate?"
"About twenty-five thousand."
"And how many have you seen?"
"Only about a thousand, plus probably about the same with the other two camps, and there is maybe another thousand scattered throughout the woods hunting deserters and foraging."
"So, about four thousand."
The Centurion paused as he processed this.
"Over twenty thousand soldiers are gone…"
"By an enemy that prefers to fight at range, based on what I have gotten out of the survivors."
The centurion looked at the count, his face pale.
"But… then why hasn't the senator tried to build the fortifications to…"
"…to better protect against enemy ranged attacks, or simply bottled them up at the Gate?" His liege interrupted. "Because he is a fool. The damned mage is building things to his advantage, giving him easy angled from which to hit the enemy troops, while they are bottled up by his."
"Do you know what Godasen specialised in?" The count asked rhetorically. "Sieges. Attacking and defending. He knows how to crack walls and keep his own from cracking. He was here in case there were castles we needed to break, not in case we needed another army commander. Well, that and politics."
Count Arruns sighed.
"He hasn't considered the enemy's advantages are greater than his own, and that he should be trying to negate them, to level the field."
"Is the battle already lost then sire?"
"Of course not. But I suspect it will be very bloody, and we may not hold the hill, especially with the senator not making any attempt to hold it."
The Optio yawned as he stood up and made his way to the bushes to relieve himself. They would need to go slow and keep a warry eye for traps. With his own foot ruined, he would have to stay behind, and send the remainder to make a racket, looking more for the traps, rather than the prisoner, if they wanted to have any success.
At least it would drive their prey toward the Count. A hundred soldiers would be more than sufficient to encircle them. It would be like hunting rabbits, the men making a racket to drive them from their holes and into the waiting jaws of the hounds.
He snorted as he did up his trousers.
Like hunting rabbits. One of the slaves, possible both, were Warrior Bunnies.
"I should tell the others… er, later. They will get a kick out of it."
He re-entered the edge of the camp and paused.
There was supposed to be three sentries. Where were they?
His blood went cold.
He heard the creak of metal behind him, and he spun around tearing the knife he kept at his side from its scabbard.
He saw the black blade in the air, swing down. His attempt to block only meant the cut was shallow across his neck, rather than nearly decapitating him.
He was nearly driven to his knees by the force of the blow. He did drop his knife.
As the Knight raised the blade for a second strike, he heard someone cry an alarm behind him. A sound that died to a wet gurgle as the man died.
The Knight shifted his grip and drove the tip of the wavy blade into his chest.
Tara wiped her spear clean.
It wasn't clean work, killing soldiers as they woke for the day, or in their sleep, but it was necessary, and effective, as she had learned during the war.
Three had died when their attention lapsed, just before the sun came up. Hannah had used a knife, dropped by one of the slain soldiers that had been killed in a trap, and slit the throat of one, while Tara killed another. Kenwen had shot the third in the ribs with the bow, to keep him from sounding the alarm.
They then moved from tent to tent, slitting throats.
One had gotten up, and Richard had moved to attack him, she lost sight of them both at the edge of the forest. Another had awoken, just in time to see Tara's spear plunge toward his neck. She had been worried it would alert the remainder, but the only movement was the breeze, or the others.
An armoured form appeared from the trees.
She tensed, before relaxing as she recognised Richard.
Her alarm grew when he tore his helmet's faceplate upward and threw up on the ground.
Hannah walked around, saw this and laughed.
"Not used to actually using that blade?"
Tara punched her, sending Hannah reeling.
"What in Hardy's name was that for?" She spat to the side, as she pulled herself up.
"Don't give me that crap. Or were all of you Red-River clan born heartless murderers and rapists?"
"At least we were tough enough not to give in to the Imperials and adopt their ways!"
"No, instead you kept taking and taking and taking! Lives, people, whatever you wanted, without caring about the consequences! And look what happened! The Imperials had enough of your shit, and now our whole damn people are gone!"
Hannah shook her knife at Tara.
"Our people are gone because that bitch of a queen sold herself after her so-called army turned and fled in the first battle!"
"I was at that damn battle. Do you know what I saw? You clansisters charging an Imperial line, against orders, and dying! They sought only bloodshed and died! Left our flank wide open to the Imperials cavalry!" Tara knew she was treading on thin ice; both of their bloods were up. But she found she didn't care. She finally had an outlet for all her rage, her anger, sorrow, and pain. "You know what I think? I think your clan and others like them, were so damn afraid of change, they'd rather die than adapt!"
Hannah screamed and swung.
Tara felt the blade scrape her cheek, as she stepped back out of reach, bringing the haft of her spear up, knocking Hannah's weapon arm askew.
She was about to bring the blade of the spear around for a lung when a sudden mass knocked into her and Hannah.
She felt a gauntleted hand grab her arm. Hannah likewise found herself caught.
"Enough! Stop!" Richard yelled; his face still specked with vomit.
The smell of it on his breath snapped Tara out of her rage. She suddenly felt very hollow, and very weak.
Her spear clattered to the ground, and she felt her legs give out. Hannah, having also dropped her weapon, sat down across from her.
The three of them sat in silence for several moments. The elves gave them a glance, and began salvaging what they could find from the camp.
After some more time, Hannah finally spoke.
"So, you were at the battle? Where?"
Tara found her voice raw, and her eyes wet.
"I… I was Tyuule's bodyguard."
Hannah's face started to twist, likely about to say some barb, before she reconsidered.
"That… must have hurt when she betrayed us. She wasn't just your queen, or a clansister, but someone you must have known personally."
Tara nodded, tears running down her cheeks. Richard shifted himself, sitting next to her to offer support. She accepted it.
"Some of them were, yeah, that much of a coward that they'd rather die, but most of us? We saw… this. We were changing, adopting Saderan ways, losing our own." Hannah spoke softly. "We feared we would be slaves just the same, just with a whimper and meekness, rather than a cry on our bloodstained lips."
"That's why we formed the monarchy, all those years ago, so we would be able to develop our own centralised kingdom, against the Saderans' influence." Tara replied.
"Yeah, well… we didn't see it that way."
"Obviously."
They lapsed back into silence.
"Hey, Tara… how much does Richard understand of what we are saying?"
"Enough." Richard replied, much to Tara's amusement.
"Senator Godasen will have much to answer for." He muttered. "Optio… my apologies. Centurion, let's get moving."
Centurion Amulius smothered a snort at the count's mistake.
"Yessir." He barked orders to the remaining soldiers with them, before turning and asking a question to his liege. "Sire… why has the senator pushed for the fortifications to be raised so quickly?"
"Because he is a fool." Count Amulius looked over the hill of Sacred Alnus, and the fortifications around it, as he walked with his troops. "Do you know how many troops were with the army that went through the Gate?"
"About twenty-five thousand."
"And how many have you seen?"
"Only about a thousand, plus probably about the same with the other two camps, and there is maybe another thousand scattered throughout the woods hunting deserters and foraging."
"So, about four thousand."
The Centurion paused as he processed this.
"Over twenty thousand soldiers are gone…"
"By an enemy that prefers to fight at range, based on what I have gotten out of the survivors."
The centurion looked at the count, his face pale.
"But… then why hasn't the senator tried to build the fortifications to…"
"…to better protect against enemy ranged attacks, or simply bottled them up at the Gate?" His liege interrupted. "Because he is a fool. The damned mage is building things to his advantage, giving him easy angled from which to hit the enemy troops, while they are bottled up by his."
"Do you know what Godasen specialised in?" The count asked rhetorically. "Sieges. Attacking and defending. He knows how to crack walls and keep his own from cracking. He was here in case there were castles we needed to break, not in case we needed another army commander. Well, that and politics."
Count Arruns sighed.
"He hasn't considered the enemy's advantages are greater than his own, and that he should be trying to negate them, to level the field."
"Is the battle already lost then sire?"
"Of course not. But I suspect it will be very bloody, and we may not hold the hill, especially with the senator not making any attempt to hold it."
The Optio yawned as he stood up and made his way to the bushes to relieve himself. They would need to go slow and keep a warry eye for traps. With his own foot ruined, he would have to stay behind, and send the remainder to make a racket, looking more for the traps, rather than the prisoner, if they wanted to have any success.
At least it would drive their prey toward the Count. A hundred soldiers would be more than sufficient to encircle them. It would be like hunting rabbits, the men making a racket to drive them from their holes and into the waiting jaws of the hounds.
He snorted as he did up his trousers.
Like hunting rabbits. One of the slaves, possible both, were Warrior Bunnies.
"I should tell the others… er, later. They will get a kick out of it."
He re-entered the edge of the camp and paused.
There was supposed to be three sentries. Where were they?
His blood went cold.
He heard the creak of metal behind him, and he spun around tearing the knife he kept at his side from its scabbard.
He saw the black blade in the air, swing down. His attempt to block only meant the cut was shallow across his neck, rather than nearly decapitating him.
He was nearly driven to his knees by the force of the blow. He did drop his knife.
As the Knight raised the blade for a second strike, he heard someone cry an alarm behind him. A sound that died to a wet gurgle as the man died.
The Knight shifted his grip and drove the tip of the wavy blade into his chest.
Tara wiped her spear clean.
It wasn't clean work, killing soldiers as they woke for the day, or in their sleep, but it was necessary, and effective, as she had learned during the war.
Three had died when their attention lapsed, just before the sun came up. Hannah had used a knife, dropped by one of the slain soldiers that had been killed in a trap, and slit the throat of one, while Tara killed another. Kenwen had shot the third in the ribs with the bow, to keep him from sounding the alarm.
They then moved from tent to tent, slitting throats.
One had gotten up, and Richard had moved to attack him, she lost sight of them both at the edge of the forest. Another had awoken, just in time to see Tara's spear plunge toward his neck. She had been worried it would alert the remainder, but the only movement was the breeze, or the others.
An armoured form appeared from the trees.
She tensed, before relaxing as she recognised Richard.
Her alarm grew when he tore his helmet's faceplate upward and threw up on the ground.
Hannah walked around, saw this and laughed.
"Not used to actually using that blade?"
Tara punched her, sending Hannah reeling.
"What in Hardy's name was that for?" She spat to the side, as she pulled herself up.
"Don't give me that crap. Or were all of you Red-River clan born heartless murderers and rapists?"
"At least we were tough enough not to give in to the Imperials and adopt their ways!"
"No, instead you kept taking and taking and taking! Lives, people, whatever you wanted, without caring about the consequences! And look what happened! The Imperials had enough of your shit, and now our whole damn people are gone!"
Hannah shook her knife at Tara.
"Our people are gone because that bitch of a queen sold herself after her so-called army turned and fled in the first battle!"
"I was at that damn battle. Do you know what I saw? You clansisters charging an Imperial line, against orders, and dying! They sought only bloodshed and died! Left our flank wide open to the Imperials cavalry!" Tara knew she was treading on thin ice; both of their bloods were up. But she found she didn't care. She finally had an outlet for all her rage, her anger, sorrow, and pain. "You know what I think? I think your clan and others like them, were so damn afraid of change, they'd rather die than adapt!"
Hannah screamed and swung.
Tara felt the blade scrape her cheek, as she stepped back out of reach, bringing the haft of her spear up, knocking Hannah's weapon arm askew.
She was about to bring the blade of the spear around for a lung when a sudden mass knocked into her and Hannah.
She felt a gauntleted hand grab her arm. Hannah likewise found herself caught.
"Enough! Stop!" Richard yelled; his face still specked with vomit.
The smell of it on his breath snapped Tara out of her rage. She suddenly felt very hollow, and very weak.
Her spear clattered to the ground, and she felt her legs give out. Hannah, having also dropped her weapon, sat down across from her.
The three of them sat in silence for several moments. The elves gave them a glance, and began salvaging what they could find from the camp.
After some more time, Hannah finally spoke.
"So, you were at the battle? Where?"
Tara found her voice raw, and her eyes wet.
"I… I was Tyuule's bodyguard."
Hannah's face started to twist, likely about to say some barb, before she reconsidered.
"That… must have hurt when she betrayed us. She wasn't just your queen, or a clansister, but someone you must have known personally."
Tara nodded, tears running down her cheeks. Richard shifted himself, sitting next to her to offer support. She accepted it.
"Some of them were, yeah, that much of a coward that they'd rather die, but most of us? We saw… this. We were changing, adopting Saderan ways, losing our own." Hannah spoke softly. "We feared we would be slaves just the same, just with a whimper and meekness, rather than a cry on our bloodstained lips."
"That's why we formed the monarchy, all those years ago, so we would be able to develop our own centralised kingdom, against the Saderans' influence." Tara replied.
"Yeah, well… we didn't see it that way."
"Obviously."
They lapsed back into silence.
"Hey, Tara… how much does Richard understand of what we are saying?"
"Enough." Richard replied, much to Tara's amusement.
If not,made Epilogue few months after Saderan defeat - on some nice island where Richard is spending his well-deserved vacations with few rabbits.And maybe elves,too?
Chapter 9
charclone
Well-known member
Hannah and Tara were no longer at each other's throats, but they wouldn't consider each other friends. They kept their distance as they trekked away from the camp, leaving the bodies where they lay. They stopped at midday, at a river, partly to wash, and partly to rest.
Richard had blushed when Tara had stripped off the rags she had been wearing, stained with blood and dirt. She now, after a bath in the river, wore looted Saderna clothing. It was better than going naked, as much as seeing Richard's reactions were funny, but she found the clothing too loose for her liking. A belt tied around her waist helped.
Hannah had done the same but kept herself on the opposite bank. Richard had been third, stripping off all his armour had taken a while, and he had needed Tara's help to put it back on in a timely manner. The clothing he wore underneath was strange, stained as it was with sweat. Some strange emblem on it, a human with a strange sword, holding it above his head, while a female leaned against him. A golden man behind them to the left, with some strange blue and white object. Behind them, a black mask was in the starry sky. There was some strange grey circle or sphere in the corner, and many strange objects seemed to be moving toward it. There was writing, similar to the Saderan's, but the language was too different for her to even make an attempt at reading.
The elves had been last, while they kept watch.
Tara found the noises they kept making to be very distracting, apparently, they were lovers.
To distract herself, she tried to continue teaching Richard.
"Through."
She drew arrows and shapes, naming them, the movements. He taught her his words for the same. Some were obvious in their similarity, such as triangle, others, she suspected, were words from another language, that had merged over time, making things difficult.
"How… you deal with…" Richard struggled to find or remember the word. After a moment, he drew a picture in the dirt.
"How do I deal with the killing?" Tara spoke slowly and clearly. "Honestly, I… its not fun. I don't enjoy it. But… it has to be done."
She shrugged.
Richard nodded. He had his helmet off, and it took her a moment to realise he was crying.
She didn't say anything, and just started doing her best to comfort him with a hug. They stayed like that for several minutes, Tara remembering her own night terrors, waking form nightmares where she had been the one on the receiving end of the blow, and being comforted by her mother. She felt her throat and eyes burn, remembering finding her mother dead, another tribe's knife buried in her skull.
Any further emotional moments were cut short when Hannah bound across the river.
"Small group of soldiers, eight by my count, with twelve prisoners. Escaped slaves and deserters, I think. Headed this way." She said in a rushed tone. Elmorna and Kenwen hauled themselves from the water and began dressing quickly. "We have some time, should we run?"
"Soldiers? Slaves?" There was a dark look in Richard's eyes.
"Yes, soldiers and slaves." Hannah repeated.
Richard stepped away from Tara, and picked up his helmet, securing it in place. He fastened the sword to his back and tested the edge.
"Fight."
"These aren't wounded and demoralised solders, they are…" Hannah started.
"Tired from a march, and from watching more prisoners than they can easily handle. We jump them, take out two or three, and the numbers are much more even, especially with the looted weapons and armour we took." Tara interrupted.
"Well, at least you have some fight in you, when it's a fight we should avoid." Hannah snarked. "What about you two?"
The elves paused in their efforts to buckle the armour into place and shared a look.
"We probably have better odds of reaching the gate as a group, since we will probably need to fight the guard." Kenwen began.
"Besides, they will probably notice all the footprints in the river. I can handle the grass and dirt, but that is beyond me." Elmorna finished. "We fight."
Hannah shrugged.
"Fine." She shook her head. "Been too long since I spilt blood in an actual battle anyway."
Captain, acting-Major, Johnson gave a muffled yawn. The briefing had so far been a waste of time. They already knew the US-Canada wargames had been cancelled, what, with the faux-Roman invasion. The science types had been talking on and on about things either above his head or stating the obvious. There were obviously humans on the other side, and who cared of current science said the wyverns couldn't fly, they clearly could.
"In short, small arms are deflected at long range by the scales. Short range rifle rounds should penetrate, and the wings membrane is not as heavily protected." The Lt. assisting the scientist summarised. "If you see one on the ground that is injured, do not approach. We would prefer as many live samples as possible, but it you need to kill it to avoid unnecessary risk, do so."
With that, the second to last scientist left. The Lt. shuffled his notes.
The last scientist had been the leader, some local professor that had volunteered right at the start, and thus made her the senior expert on the invaders.
"I'll keep it brief. Languages are hard, especially ones that are unfamiliar. It has only been a few days, so our initial efforts are still ongoing. The invader's language does appear to be Latin based, so we have a much better starting point than we would have otherwise had. A basic phrasebook is, I believe being worked on…" She glanced at the Lt. who nodded. "However, I don't know when it will be distributed. I'll leave that to your logistics officers."
Johnson blinked. Apparently, that would be a short brief. The general stood up and took the podium.
"Its been four days, and we have confirmed reports of our people being taken to the other side. We will be going in after them. We will bring them home." He said. "One last thing. There are reports of 'mages' among the enemy. We have no confirmed sightings, but we have evidence of them having some form of weapon, deployable by a single person, that can damage armoured vehicles. If you see anything like it, either in mopping up the forces that had tried to go to ground, or in the coming assault, report it, and try to capture them, if possible. This is a complete unknown, and we need more intel, but do not throw lives away."
"Any questions?"
"There were concerns of gravitational differences affecting our artillery, any news when we will get updated formulas and intel on that?" An officer from one of the artillery units asked.
"Nothing confirmed yet, as gravity appears to be very close to Earth's, on the other side." The general said. "Any other questions?"
Count Arruns found himself fuming again, as he stood over the remains of the camp he had left behind.
"Crafty bastard." His friend muttered.
With their much lower numbers, they had decided to link up with the force they left behind and pool their recourses. They had marched through the day and night, arriving midday of the next day, only to find the camp in ruins, all but one-man dead. Most slain in their sleep.
The lone survivor had a shallow gash along his throat and had been able to hold it tight enough to keep from bleeding out too quickly, hoping that help arrived. He would be dead by nightfall.
But his words had told them what had happened, if not in detail.
Traps had been used to wound and bleed them. And as they slept, as a greatly depleted force, they had been slaughtered in the dawn. He had seen two Warrior Bunnies, two elves, one probably a druid, and the Knight.
"Centurion. I want their trail found. We move through the night."
Amullius winced.
"Sire… I'm not sure that is a good idea. The men are already tired, and if we attack them, or stumble across more traps…" He trailed off.
The Count shook his head.
"The sooner we find him, the sooner we can get our people out of the Senator's hellhole." He sighed. "But I am no fool, my friend. You are right. We won't engage, and we will move slow enough to check for traps."
He glanced at the slowly dying soldier. The Count kneeled next to him.
"Emroy's realm, or will you accompany us in your final moments?"
The soldier tried to grab the Count's sword.
He unsheathed it for his dying comrade, and put it in the soldier's fist, laying both on the dying man's breast.
"You family will be looked after." The Count swore. "You… lost your wife, some years ago. But you children still live. I will adopt them."
The soldier nodded and released his hand from his neck.
The Count and his men stood in silence for several minutes.
"We bury the bodies, and then we move." He ordered.
Richard had blushed when Tara had stripped off the rags she had been wearing, stained with blood and dirt. She now, after a bath in the river, wore looted Saderna clothing. It was better than going naked, as much as seeing Richard's reactions were funny, but she found the clothing too loose for her liking. A belt tied around her waist helped.
Hannah had done the same but kept herself on the opposite bank. Richard had been third, stripping off all his armour had taken a while, and he had needed Tara's help to put it back on in a timely manner. The clothing he wore underneath was strange, stained as it was with sweat. Some strange emblem on it, a human with a strange sword, holding it above his head, while a female leaned against him. A golden man behind them to the left, with some strange blue and white object. Behind them, a black mask was in the starry sky. There was some strange grey circle or sphere in the corner, and many strange objects seemed to be moving toward it. There was writing, similar to the Saderan's, but the language was too different for her to even make an attempt at reading.
The elves had been last, while they kept watch.
Tara found the noises they kept making to be very distracting, apparently, they were lovers.
To distract herself, she tried to continue teaching Richard.
"Through."
She drew arrows and shapes, naming them, the movements. He taught her his words for the same. Some were obvious in their similarity, such as triangle, others, she suspected, were words from another language, that had merged over time, making things difficult.
"How… you deal with…" Richard struggled to find or remember the word. After a moment, he drew a picture in the dirt.
"How do I deal with the killing?" Tara spoke slowly and clearly. "Honestly, I… its not fun. I don't enjoy it. But… it has to be done."
She shrugged.
Richard nodded. He had his helmet off, and it took her a moment to realise he was crying.
She didn't say anything, and just started doing her best to comfort him with a hug. They stayed like that for several minutes, Tara remembering her own night terrors, waking form nightmares where she had been the one on the receiving end of the blow, and being comforted by her mother. She felt her throat and eyes burn, remembering finding her mother dead, another tribe's knife buried in her skull.
Any further emotional moments were cut short when Hannah bound across the river.
"Small group of soldiers, eight by my count, with twelve prisoners. Escaped slaves and deserters, I think. Headed this way." She said in a rushed tone. Elmorna and Kenwen hauled themselves from the water and began dressing quickly. "We have some time, should we run?"
"Soldiers? Slaves?" There was a dark look in Richard's eyes.
"Yes, soldiers and slaves." Hannah repeated.
Richard stepped away from Tara, and picked up his helmet, securing it in place. He fastened the sword to his back and tested the edge.
"Fight."
"These aren't wounded and demoralised solders, they are…" Hannah started.
"Tired from a march, and from watching more prisoners than they can easily handle. We jump them, take out two or three, and the numbers are much more even, especially with the looted weapons and armour we took." Tara interrupted.
"Well, at least you have some fight in you, when it's a fight we should avoid." Hannah snarked. "What about you two?"
The elves paused in their efforts to buckle the armour into place and shared a look.
"We probably have better odds of reaching the gate as a group, since we will probably need to fight the guard." Kenwen began.
"Besides, they will probably notice all the footprints in the river. I can handle the grass and dirt, but that is beyond me." Elmorna finished. "We fight."
Hannah shrugged.
"Fine." She shook her head. "Been too long since I spilt blood in an actual battle anyway."
Captain, acting-Major, Johnson gave a muffled yawn. The briefing had so far been a waste of time. They already knew the US-Canada wargames had been cancelled, what, with the faux-Roman invasion. The science types had been talking on and on about things either above his head or stating the obvious. There were obviously humans on the other side, and who cared of current science said the wyverns couldn't fly, they clearly could.
"In short, small arms are deflected at long range by the scales. Short range rifle rounds should penetrate, and the wings membrane is not as heavily protected." The Lt. assisting the scientist summarised. "If you see one on the ground that is injured, do not approach. We would prefer as many live samples as possible, but it you need to kill it to avoid unnecessary risk, do so."
With that, the second to last scientist left. The Lt. shuffled his notes.
The last scientist had been the leader, some local professor that had volunteered right at the start, and thus made her the senior expert on the invaders.
"I'll keep it brief. Languages are hard, especially ones that are unfamiliar. It has only been a few days, so our initial efforts are still ongoing. The invader's language does appear to be Latin based, so we have a much better starting point than we would have otherwise had. A basic phrasebook is, I believe being worked on…" She glanced at the Lt. who nodded. "However, I don't know when it will be distributed. I'll leave that to your logistics officers."
Johnson blinked. Apparently, that would be a short brief. The general stood up and took the podium.
"Its been four days, and we have confirmed reports of our people being taken to the other side. We will be going in after them. We will bring them home." He said. "One last thing. There are reports of 'mages' among the enemy. We have no confirmed sightings, but we have evidence of them having some form of weapon, deployable by a single person, that can damage armoured vehicles. If you see anything like it, either in mopping up the forces that had tried to go to ground, or in the coming assault, report it, and try to capture them, if possible. This is a complete unknown, and we need more intel, but do not throw lives away."
"Any questions?"
"There were concerns of gravitational differences affecting our artillery, any news when we will get updated formulas and intel on that?" An officer from one of the artillery units asked.
"Nothing confirmed yet, as gravity appears to be very close to Earth's, on the other side." The general said. "Any other questions?"
Count Arruns found himself fuming again, as he stood over the remains of the camp he had left behind.
"Crafty bastard." His friend muttered.
With their much lower numbers, they had decided to link up with the force they left behind and pool their recourses. They had marched through the day and night, arriving midday of the next day, only to find the camp in ruins, all but one-man dead. Most slain in their sleep.
The lone survivor had a shallow gash along his throat and had been able to hold it tight enough to keep from bleeding out too quickly, hoping that help arrived. He would be dead by nightfall.
But his words had told them what had happened, if not in detail.
Traps had been used to wound and bleed them. And as they slept, as a greatly depleted force, they had been slaughtered in the dawn. He had seen two Warrior Bunnies, two elves, one probably a druid, and the Knight.
"Centurion. I want their trail found. We move through the night."
Amullius winced.
"Sire… I'm not sure that is a good idea. The men are already tired, and if we attack them, or stumble across more traps…" He trailed off.
The Count shook his head.
"The sooner we find him, the sooner we can get our people out of the Senator's hellhole." He sighed. "But I am no fool, my friend. You are right. We won't engage, and we will move slow enough to check for traps."
He glanced at the slowly dying soldier. The Count kneeled next to him.
"Emroy's realm, or will you accompany us in your final moments?"
The soldier tried to grab the Count's sword.
He unsheathed it for his dying comrade, and put it in the soldier's fist, laying both on the dying man's breast.
"You family will be looked after." The Count swore. "You… lost your wife, some years ago. But you children still live. I will adopt them."
The soldier nodded and released his hand from his neck.
The Count and his men stood in silence for several minutes.
"We bury the bodies, and then we move." He ordered.
Chapter 10
charclone
Well-known member
The eight soldiers died quickly.
The first three died to arrows, unaware. The two elves and Hannah were very good shots.
The remaining soldiers turned and moved. The prisoners tried to block them.
The soldiers were not armed for battle, but for capturing deserters. They had their blades and shields, but they relied on the nets and clubs they carried.
A third soldier died, as he forced his way past the prisoners. Kenwen grinned at the shot he had made.
The soldiers were caught by surprise when Richard and Tara came upon them from behind. Three died, one to the pommel of Richard's flamberge Zweihänder cracking his skull open through his helmet, another to Tara's spear opening an artery in his neck, and the third died when he spun around, and a prisoner wrapped their chains around his throat.
The last soldier died to Kenwen's third arrow.
"Ha! That went better than expected." Hannah laughed. "Now what do we do with them?"
She gestured at the prisoners as she walked from her hiding place.
"Free and arm them." Tara said. "Best chance we have of getting through the Gate."
"Senator Godasen is fortifying the whole perimeter of the hill." One of the prisoners said. "You'd need an army to punch through. Better off heading south to Elbe and acting as a mercenary."
"Or turning bandit." Another commented. "Then again, that's usually the same thing."
Tara frowned.
"Fortifications would make it… difficult." Hannah said. "But I've snuck past Imperial fortifications before."
"Your… you were one of Tyuule's bodyguards." A voice said.
Everyone glanced at the voice.
One of the prisoners was a Warrior Bunny. Unlike Tara, who's fur was a pure white, this one was a near black shade. Her face marred by a nasty scar.
"The world on the other Gate. They can make the Empire pay?"
The group fell silent and looked at Richard. Tara whispered a translation in his ear, as best she could.
Richard simply held up his blade and pointed it at Alnus.
"Welp. Were all going to die." A prisoner snarked. "At least I won't get killed by the otherworlders. Heh, wiped out most of my cohort. Its why I ran."
"Same. Then Godasen decided to work us to death, instead of letting us fight. Hah! I hope we get to smash his nose in."
"I wouldn't recommend it. I hear goblin's noses are mostly bone!"
The prisoners joked and laughed as their chains were loosed.
"To Alnus, the Gate, and the other side!" One exclaimed.
"Eh, maybe we should hit the prisoner camp they are setting up, and free some more men." Another suggested.
"Good idea. You know the way?" Tara asked him.
"Sure."
"All dead, sire." One of the woodsmen reported. "Looks like sometime yesterday. Arrows, they removed 'em, probably to use 'em again. 'Tis what I'd do."
The Count nodded and sighed.
"How far are we to Alnus?"
"Less than a day, even through the woods sire." Amulius said. "But… the tracks go South."
"Loosed the prisoners to cover their trail?" The Count guessed. Then he remembered the camp, and traps. "No… he's after the Senator's troops."
"What?" Centurion Amulius gaped. "That's crazy. He'd have no chance of going back…"
"Unless he knew reinforcements are coming. Perhaps he was warned with magic, and that prompted his tactics… or perhaps he is important enough that he things they will send a rescue attempt." The Count said. "He might be mistaken… but my threats to the Senator seem to be becoming reality. The gods seem to have a sense of humour."
"Aye, my lord."
"What is in the direction they went?"
One of the woodsmen shrugged.
"One o' the camps set up, by the Senator, fer foraging, and warning in case he's attacked."
"Foraging? So, if it was attacked, there would be risk of starvation, and he would need to remove troops from guarding the gate?" The Count frowned. "He's crafty. Pull troops away, and he can either slip through, or leave it open for attack."
"Should we warn the Senator?"
"No, Centurion. I already have." He gestured in the direction of the camp. "Now, let's get going."
The news channels flickered past.
"… The President promised full and complete support to the Canadian Government in dealing with the current crisis…"
"… of France has stated that potential options are being considered…"
"…I mean, come one! Dragons? Knights? Romans? They can't even keep the story the story straight. I'll tell you what this is, it's all fake, trying to cover up the real threat…"
"Hey, go back one, I'm curious what the conspiracy nut was saying."
"He normally rants about US politics, so don't bother."
"Fine. Fine."
"…the US should be lending Canada atomic weapons, to send through the Gate. Who knows what is on the other side? No. Better to cut it off at the source and take no risk. While it is sad that we would lose the people that were taken, who's identities have not been confirmed, the fact is it would be safer simply to close the gate, rather than risk hundreds, if not thousands of lives keeping it open."
Johnson winced.
"Like hell." A US Marine officer in the temporary Officer's Club shouted. "No one left behind. Besides, we crushed 'em. No need for nukes."
"It doesn't pay to get cocky, but yeah. We're going in." Another US officer said.
"Jerry learned to fear us in the First World War, time we taught old Caesar the same, eh?" A Canadian Army officer, transferred in with his unit yesterday, joked. "Besides, Johnson here knows what it's like to face them."
Johnson frowned as he became the centre of attention.
"Biggest worries are the reports of magic being true, and the dragons. AA can take them down, but missiles are expensive, and they had a lot of those wyverns. If we didn't have air superiority, we're going to rely on fifty cals, whatever AA missiles we have, maybe elevate the Bushmasters on the US Bradleys, and I heard the Oerlikon GDFs were being pulled out of storage." He said. "Not a huge worry, numbers are the real risk. They charged our damn machine guns and IFVs like we were offering free food after a famine."
"Heard the Romans were rather brutal in punishments, they liked soldiers to follow orders, so death was preferable to disobedience." Someone said.
"Yeah, it was pretty brutal." Johnson agreed. "Still, you'd think their moral would have broken after the wiped-out half of them in a second."
"Shock? Unable to process what they are seeing?"
"Probably."
The room went silent as everyone focused on the TV.
"…Not to mention the risk of biological contaminations, disease, magical plagues. Who knows what is on the other side?"
Whoever had the remote changed the channel.
"…I'm headed to the recruiting station now. They attacked us, Canada! The last time anyone did that was, I think the Germans in WW2 when they shelled a lighthouse..."
"You aren't worried the war might be over by the time you finish training? Or the risk of dying?"
"Sure, I'm afraid of getting killed, but we'd need to occupy the idiots that attacked us…"
"… announced they condemned the pointless waste of life and aggression against Canada…"
"… condemned Canada's and the Queen's obviously Imperialist ambitions of rebuilding the British Empire on the other side of the Gate, calling Canada's reports of attacks as propaganda…"
"Heh." Someone snorted. "Guess the rumoured offer of support from North Korea was false."
"…hell yeah, I'm hoping we go over there. There might be elves, or some other hot fantasy race over there! I'm just hoping I get to head over and meet some of them…"
Johnson snorted.
"That would be my luck. I have to sit through meetings, while Richard gets to meet elves and… bunnygirls or whatever." Polite laughter floated around the room and Johnson's joke.
"You know one of the people taken?" The Marine officer asked.
"Yeah, the Black Knight of Canada." Johnson confirmed. "I helped pay for the armour, though he helped forge it and the sword."
"I hope he's okay. I'd like to meet him once we find him." The Marine said. "Rare you see bravery like that from a civilian."
The first three died to arrows, unaware. The two elves and Hannah were very good shots.
The remaining soldiers turned and moved. The prisoners tried to block them.
The soldiers were not armed for battle, but for capturing deserters. They had their blades and shields, but they relied on the nets and clubs they carried.
A third soldier died, as he forced his way past the prisoners. Kenwen grinned at the shot he had made.
The soldiers were caught by surprise when Richard and Tara came upon them from behind. Three died, one to the pommel of Richard's flamberge Zweihänder cracking his skull open through his helmet, another to Tara's spear opening an artery in his neck, and the third died when he spun around, and a prisoner wrapped their chains around his throat.
The last soldier died to Kenwen's third arrow.
"Ha! That went better than expected." Hannah laughed. "Now what do we do with them?"
She gestured at the prisoners as she walked from her hiding place.
"Free and arm them." Tara said. "Best chance we have of getting through the Gate."
"Senator Godasen is fortifying the whole perimeter of the hill." One of the prisoners said. "You'd need an army to punch through. Better off heading south to Elbe and acting as a mercenary."
"Or turning bandit." Another commented. "Then again, that's usually the same thing."
Tara frowned.
"Fortifications would make it… difficult." Hannah said. "But I've snuck past Imperial fortifications before."
"Your… you were one of Tyuule's bodyguards." A voice said.
Everyone glanced at the voice.
One of the prisoners was a Warrior Bunny. Unlike Tara, who's fur was a pure white, this one was a near black shade. Her face marred by a nasty scar.
"The world on the other Gate. They can make the Empire pay?"
The group fell silent and looked at Richard. Tara whispered a translation in his ear, as best she could.
Richard simply held up his blade and pointed it at Alnus.
"Welp. Were all going to die." A prisoner snarked. "At least I won't get killed by the otherworlders. Heh, wiped out most of my cohort. Its why I ran."
"Same. Then Godasen decided to work us to death, instead of letting us fight. Hah! I hope we get to smash his nose in."
"I wouldn't recommend it. I hear goblin's noses are mostly bone!"
The prisoners joked and laughed as their chains were loosed.
"To Alnus, the Gate, and the other side!" One exclaimed.
"Eh, maybe we should hit the prisoner camp they are setting up, and free some more men." Another suggested.
"Good idea. You know the way?" Tara asked him.
"Sure."
"All dead, sire." One of the woodsmen reported. "Looks like sometime yesterday. Arrows, they removed 'em, probably to use 'em again. 'Tis what I'd do."
The Count nodded and sighed.
"How far are we to Alnus?"
"Less than a day, even through the woods sire." Amulius said. "But… the tracks go South."
"Loosed the prisoners to cover their trail?" The Count guessed. Then he remembered the camp, and traps. "No… he's after the Senator's troops."
"What?" Centurion Amulius gaped. "That's crazy. He'd have no chance of going back…"
"Unless he knew reinforcements are coming. Perhaps he was warned with magic, and that prompted his tactics… or perhaps he is important enough that he things they will send a rescue attempt." The Count said. "He might be mistaken… but my threats to the Senator seem to be becoming reality. The gods seem to have a sense of humour."
"Aye, my lord."
"What is in the direction they went?"
One of the woodsmen shrugged.
"One o' the camps set up, by the Senator, fer foraging, and warning in case he's attacked."
"Foraging? So, if it was attacked, there would be risk of starvation, and he would need to remove troops from guarding the gate?" The Count frowned. "He's crafty. Pull troops away, and he can either slip through, or leave it open for attack."
"Should we warn the Senator?"
"No, Centurion. I already have." He gestured in the direction of the camp. "Now, let's get going."
The news channels flickered past.
"… The President promised full and complete support to the Canadian Government in dealing with the current crisis…"
"… of France has stated that potential options are being considered…"
"…I mean, come one! Dragons? Knights? Romans? They can't even keep the story the story straight. I'll tell you what this is, it's all fake, trying to cover up the real threat…"
"Hey, go back one, I'm curious what the conspiracy nut was saying."
"He normally rants about US politics, so don't bother."
"Fine. Fine."
"…the US should be lending Canada atomic weapons, to send through the Gate. Who knows what is on the other side? No. Better to cut it off at the source and take no risk. While it is sad that we would lose the people that were taken, who's identities have not been confirmed, the fact is it would be safer simply to close the gate, rather than risk hundreds, if not thousands of lives keeping it open."
Johnson winced.
"Like hell." A US Marine officer in the temporary Officer's Club shouted. "No one left behind. Besides, we crushed 'em. No need for nukes."
"It doesn't pay to get cocky, but yeah. We're going in." Another US officer said.
"Jerry learned to fear us in the First World War, time we taught old Caesar the same, eh?" A Canadian Army officer, transferred in with his unit yesterday, joked. "Besides, Johnson here knows what it's like to face them."
Johnson frowned as he became the centre of attention.
"Biggest worries are the reports of magic being true, and the dragons. AA can take them down, but missiles are expensive, and they had a lot of those wyverns. If we didn't have air superiority, we're going to rely on fifty cals, whatever AA missiles we have, maybe elevate the Bushmasters on the US Bradleys, and I heard the Oerlikon GDFs were being pulled out of storage." He said. "Not a huge worry, numbers are the real risk. They charged our damn machine guns and IFVs like we were offering free food after a famine."
"Heard the Romans were rather brutal in punishments, they liked soldiers to follow orders, so death was preferable to disobedience." Someone said.
"Yeah, it was pretty brutal." Johnson agreed. "Still, you'd think their moral would have broken after the wiped-out half of them in a second."
"Shock? Unable to process what they are seeing?"
"Probably."
The room went silent as everyone focused on the TV.
"…Not to mention the risk of biological contaminations, disease, magical plagues. Who knows what is on the other side?"
Whoever had the remote changed the channel.
"…I'm headed to the recruiting station now. They attacked us, Canada! The last time anyone did that was, I think the Germans in WW2 when they shelled a lighthouse..."
"You aren't worried the war might be over by the time you finish training? Or the risk of dying?"
"Sure, I'm afraid of getting killed, but we'd need to occupy the idiots that attacked us…"
"… announced they condemned the pointless waste of life and aggression against Canada…"
"… condemned Canada's and the Queen's obviously Imperialist ambitions of rebuilding the British Empire on the other side of the Gate, calling Canada's reports of attacks as propaganda…"
"Heh." Someone snorted. "Guess the rumoured offer of support from North Korea was false."
"…hell yeah, I'm hoping we go over there. There might be elves, or some other hot fantasy race over there! I'm just hoping I get to head over and meet some of them…"
Johnson snorted.
"That would be my luck. I have to sit through meetings, while Richard gets to meet elves and… bunnygirls or whatever." Polite laughter floated around the room and Johnson's joke.
"You know one of the people taken?" The Marine officer asked.
"Yeah, the Black Knight of Canada." Johnson confirmed. "I helped pay for the armour, though he helped forge it and the sword."
"I hope he's okay. I'd like to meet him once we find him." The Marine said. "Rare you see bravery like that from a civilian."
Art
Bear Ribs
Well-known member
Here, have a Fanart.
Edit: Autocorrect does not like the names of individual pieces of armor.
Originally was a lot more, well, black but it came out looking awful so I gave him a red undertunic and made the spaulders, greaves, bracers, gorget, and tassets a bit lighter so it wouldn't look like a jumbled black mass.
charclone
Well-known member
Holy cow! That looks great!Here, have a Fanart.
Edit: Autocorrect does not like the names of individual pieces of armor.Originally was a lot more, well, black but it came out looking awful so I gave him a red undertunic and made the spaulders, greaves, bracers, gorget, and tassets a bit lighter so it wouldn't look like a jumbled black mass.
I envisioned the helm to be more of an Armet, but it still looks great!
Count Arruns look like both competent and decent foe.Good for story,fighting people like Zorzal is....boring.
But,entire Gate is about Itami harem and trashing japaneese politicians,so fighting was not important.
P.S who would get Itami harem here? And,more important,they would certainly finish Fire Dragon quickly here.Which mean elf village saved.
But,entire Gate is about Itami harem and trashing japaneese politicians,so fighting was not important.
P.S who would get Itami harem here? And,more important,they would certainly finish Fire Dragon quickly here.Which mean elf village saved.
Chapter 11
charclone
Well-known member
Vel was not highborn. He had been born to a wealthy farmer, that had made his wealth selling meat to the Imperial Dragon Rider Corp. Because of this, he had grown up seeing many wyverns. It had sparked in him a desire to fly. He did everything he could to be able to ride a Wyvern. He volunteered helping clean their stalls, helped clean and feed them. He knew he would never be able to even have a hope of riding any of the dragons the Empire had tamed, but a Wyvern, he thought, was well within his reach.
He was wrong. Despite then encouragement from the riders in the Corp., their suggestions, even carefully introducing him to some of their mounts, he was never allowed into the Corp., when he enlisted. He learned that there was an unofficial policy of keeping anyone non-noble, or not rich enough, out of the Corp.
He had been relegated to infantry. He had served for a handful of years, even fighting against Bunny Warriors once, when they ambushed the supply wagon he was escorting, but it was all for nothing to him. He saw the flying creatures the otherworlders had used against his formation. They cut down anything the Imperials had that flew and destroyed formations from above.
So Vel ran, partly from fear, partly from seeing the wyverns he had loved cut down so easily. He deserted as soon as he had gotten back across the Gate. He was soon captured and feared he would be crucified. Instead, he was told he would be put to work, and if they worked well enough, the deserters would instead face decimation. Some would die, rather than all.
Yet, as he was being transported to Alnus, from the camp where they recorded who had deserted, he was freed. Now, he found himself sneaking through that same camp in the dead of night, half of its sentries dead, slicing throats alongside a Warrior Bunny and other defectors.
Most of the troops in the camp were rear line. Either retiring veterans past their prime, or people who bribed their way into rear formations. In short, the security was a joke. Vel's old centurion would have had them all flogged.
He froze when he saw something move. At first, he thought it was an ogre, with a tarp lain overtop. It took him half a second to realise the truth.
"Wyvern." He whispered to the others. "I… I'll try and distract it. Go."
Normally over twice the length of a large horse, with powerful legs ending in clawed talons, and massive wings, this one bore a scarred face, and curled tightly under its wings, something he had only ever seen one do after its rider was arrested, and it had not seen him in some time.
His hands shook, and he felt himself sweating. Then he realised something. A wyvern wouldn't tolerate being so close to tents, not without a reason.
The others vanished amidst the shadows, leaving him alone.
Slowly, he approached the wyvern.
"Who…" A voice started to say, before breaking down into coughs. "Who's there?"
The voice was wet, faint… and familiar to Vel.
"Vel, sir Hostus."
"Ah, young Vel… finally… got into the Corp.?" The voice gave a weak laugh, before dropping into strained breathing. "Come… here… let… me see you."
Slowly Vel approached the voice.
He found Hostus, a rider he had known since he first visited the Corps.' fortress near his home. He lay in a pool of his own blood, bandages soaked through, and clearly old. In the dim light, Vel could see the wounds that his eyes had been reduced to.
"Thoos… got off better than I did. Hide protected him… but… the thing they fired at me… put shards of metal through my body. I'm surprised…" Hostus fought for breath. "…I… lasted this long. I can feel… Emroy reaching me… but… I couldn't go…until… someone… could look after… Thoos…"
The old rider gave a ragged gasp and expired.
"Is someone over there!? Get away from that Wyvern!"
Vel's heart leaped into his throat. He swallowed and mentally prepared a lie.
"Sir, the rider has died. I was his replacement sent from the main camp."
The Decurion stomped into view, holding a torch. He glanced down at the dead rider, and at the wyvern.
"Huh. Didn't know they could train replacement riders. Well, why didn't you show up sooner?" He demanded. "We had to build the damn camp in this shitty spot, just to protect the thing. Wouldn't let us move the rider or get too close. To many damn blind spots."
"My own mount… only died recently."
The Decurion glared at him. His face softened after a moment, and he looked at Hostus' body.
"Friend of yours?"
"Yessir. My teacher. He… died, slightly delirious. Barely recognised me… thought I had only recently graduated."
The Decurion narrowed his eyes.
Vel was sure the officer could hear his hear beating through his chest. It felt like it would burst from his ribcage.
The Decurion opened his mouth to say something when a sudden cry went up from somewhere else in the camp.
"Intruders! Intruders in the…" The man was cut off by a wet gurgle and the sound of steel piercing flesh.
Vel made a hand signal, taught to him by Hostus long ago.
Attack.
The Decurion died as Thoos ripped his head off.
Tara pulled her spear from the dead Saderan. He had woken and used the latrine, returning just in time to see her slit the throat of his tentmate.
Shouts from the camp called out. She heard weapons being drawn. She darted out of the camp and caught sight of some of the deserters they had freed arming themselves, forming ranks and pushing those still alive and loyal back, many already dead.
There was a sudden roar of a wyvern, and Tara briefly panicked.
Richard appeared between two tents, coming from the entrance, the rest of the deserters and liberated slaves with him. They loosed arrows further into the camp, gaining cries of pain and surprise.
Richard gave a yell and rushed into the fray, their soldiers rallying to him.
If Tara had the numbers correctly, they had the advantage of numbers now, most of the soldiers being dead from slit throats.
Richard swung at a group of spearmen that had formed ranks, his zweihander shattering the cheap wooden hafts of the spears. He jabbed, swung, parried, and butchered his way through.
A shadow passed above, and the defenders cheered… until the wyvern wept down and carried off the Centurion in command of the camp, and a soldier unlucky enough to be next to him. Thoos circled, and dropped them on the defenders, still desperately trying to form a defence.
They broke and ran.
Tara found Richard, standing amidst a quartet of half armoured soldiers, their wounds making the blame of their deaths obvious. He stood still, his armour and blade caked in blood. Slowly, she stepped over the bodies, and touched him. His armour bore more scratches and dents than it had before, but they were remarkably tiny, a testament to his armour's durability.
Beneath his armour, she felt him shake. Slowly, she led him to a nearby tent, and used the rags she found inside to clean his armour as best she could. Carefully, she removed it, piece by piece, cleaning it as she did so. Richard sat in the cot, doing his best to control his breathing.
One of the deserters entered the tent, along with an elf she didn't recognise.
"Lord, what next? We are stripping the camp of any loot and supplies."
They spoke to Richard, assuming he was in charge. To be fair, he had decided their path… and chose to use traps, though the actual execution had been mostly Tara's work, since Richard's grasp of the language was still tenuous at best.
Richard took a deep breath and leaned over to her.
"What they ask?" He whispered.
"Where next?" She replied.
Richard frowned. He was silent for several moments.
"Alnus, and the Gate."
He was wrong. Despite then encouragement from the riders in the Corp., their suggestions, even carefully introducing him to some of their mounts, he was never allowed into the Corp., when he enlisted. He learned that there was an unofficial policy of keeping anyone non-noble, or not rich enough, out of the Corp.
He had been relegated to infantry. He had served for a handful of years, even fighting against Bunny Warriors once, when they ambushed the supply wagon he was escorting, but it was all for nothing to him. He saw the flying creatures the otherworlders had used against his formation. They cut down anything the Imperials had that flew and destroyed formations from above.
So Vel ran, partly from fear, partly from seeing the wyverns he had loved cut down so easily. He deserted as soon as he had gotten back across the Gate. He was soon captured and feared he would be crucified. Instead, he was told he would be put to work, and if they worked well enough, the deserters would instead face decimation. Some would die, rather than all.
Yet, as he was being transported to Alnus, from the camp where they recorded who had deserted, he was freed. Now, he found himself sneaking through that same camp in the dead of night, half of its sentries dead, slicing throats alongside a Warrior Bunny and other defectors.
Most of the troops in the camp were rear line. Either retiring veterans past their prime, or people who bribed their way into rear formations. In short, the security was a joke. Vel's old centurion would have had them all flogged.
He froze when he saw something move. At first, he thought it was an ogre, with a tarp lain overtop. It took him half a second to realise the truth.
"Wyvern." He whispered to the others. "I… I'll try and distract it. Go."
Normally over twice the length of a large horse, with powerful legs ending in clawed talons, and massive wings, this one bore a scarred face, and curled tightly under its wings, something he had only ever seen one do after its rider was arrested, and it had not seen him in some time.
His hands shook, and he felt himself sweating. Then he realised something. A wyvern wouldn't tolerate being so close to tents, not without a reason.
The others vanished amidst the shadows, leaving him alone.
Slowly, he approached the wyvern.
"Who…" A voice started to say, before breaking down into coughs. "Who's there?"
The voice was wet, faint… and familiar to Vel.
"Vel, sir Hostus."
"Ah, young Vel… finally… got into the Corp.?" The voice gave a weak laugh, before dropping into strained breathing. "Come… here… let… me see you."
Slowly Vel approached the voice.
He found Hostus, a rider he had known since he first visited the Corps.' fortress near his home. He lay in a pool of his own blood, bandages soaked through, and clearly old. In the dim light, Vel could see the wounds that his eyes had been reduced to.
"Thoos… got off better than I did. Hide protected him… but… the thing they fired at me… put shards of metal through my body. I'm surprised…" Hostus fought for breath. "…I… lasted this long. I can feel… Emroy reaching me… but… I couldn't go…until… someone… could look after… Thoos…"
The old rider gave a ragged gasp and expired.
"Is someone over there!? Get away from that Wyvern!"
Vel's heart leaped into his throat. He swallowed and mentally prepared a lie.
"Sir, the rider has died. I was his replacement sent from the main camp."
The Decurion stomped into view, holding a torch. He glanced down at the dead rider, and at the wyvern.
"Huh. Didn't know they could train replacement riders. Well, why didn't you show up sooner?" He demanded. "We had to build the damn camp in this shitty spot, just to protect the thing. Wouldn't let us move the rider or get too close. To many damn blind spots."
"My own mount… only died recently."
The Decurion glared at him. His face softened after a moment, and he looked at Hostus' body.
"Friend of yours?"
"Yessir. My teacher. He… died, slightly delirious. Barely recognised me… thought I had only recently graduated."
The Decurion narrowed his eyes.
Vel was sure the officer could hear his hear beating through his chest. It felt like it would burst from his ribcage.
The Decurion opened his mouth to say something when a sudden cry went up from somewhere else in the camp.
"Intruders! Intruders in the…" The man was cut off by a wet gurgle and the sound of steel piercing flesh.
Vel made a hand signal, taught to him by Hostus long ago.
Attack.
The Decurion died as Thoos ripped his head off.
Tara pulled her spear from the dead Saderan. He had woken and used the latrine, returning just in time to see her slit the throat of his tentmate.
Shouts from the camp called out. She heard weapons being drawn. She darted out of the camp and caught sight of some of the deserters they had freed arming themselves, forming ranks and pushing those still alive and loyal back, many already dead.
There was a sudden roar of a wyvern, and Tara briefly panicked.
Richard appeared between two tents, coming from the entrance, the rest of the deserters and liberated slaves with him. They loosed arrows further into the camp, gaining cries of pain and surprise.
Richard gave a yell and rushed into the fray, their soldiers rallying to him.
If Tara had the numbers correctly, they had the advantage of numbers now, most of the soldiers being dead from slit throats.
Richard swung at a group of spearmen that had formed ranks, his zweihander shattering the cheap wooden hafts of the spears. He jabbed, swung, parried, and butchered his way through.
A shadow passed above, and the defenders cheered… until the wyvern wept down and carried off the Centurion in command of the camp, and a soldier unlucky enough to be next to him. Thoos circled, and dropped them on the defenders, still desperately trying to form a defence.
They broke and ran.
Tara found Richard, standing amidst a quartet of half armoured soldiers, their wounds making the blame of their deaths obvious. He stood still, his armour and blade caked in blood. Slowly, she stepped over the bodies, and touched him. His armour bore more scratches and dents than it had before, but they were remarkably tiny, a testament to his armour's durability.
Beneath his armour, she felt him shake. Slowly, she led him to a nearby tent, and used the rags she found inside to clean his armour as best she could. Carefully, she removed it, piece by piece, cleaning it as she did so. Richard sat in the cot, doing his best to control his breathing.
One of the deserters entered the tent, along with an elf she didn't recognise.
"Lord, what next? We are stripping the camp of any loot and supplies."
They spoke to Richard, assuming he was in charge. To be fair, he had decided their path… and chose to use traps, though the actual execution had been mostly Tara's work, since Richard's grasp of the language was still tenuous at best.
Richard took a deep breath and leaned over to her.
"What they ask?" He whispered.
"Where next?" She replied.
Richard frowned. He was silent for several moments.
"Alnus, and the Gate."
Good.In book Itami must almost fought womans who was after him.As if he was real hero,billionaire,or important politician.
I hope that all surviving girls would get solid,american/canadian husband.
Preferable from military.
Last chapter - it seems,that USA get its wywern.