The commander of the Silver Kingdom’s defeated force gathered what troops he could in the town they had passed through several days prior. The locals called it Pleasantville, but he couldn’t for the life of him determine what made it pleasant. Proper houses were few, and the townsfolk had hardly any alcohol. I suppose I’d hide what I had too if soldiers wanted to eat and drink themselves to oblivion. Those ignorant villagers don’t know just how lucky they are that the king prefers intact villages, and the men know that I’d make an example out of anyone who goes too far.

He had recovered about fifty men from the disastrous battle, and the garrison left in town added another twenty. He currently sat on a crude wooden chair, left arm hung in a sling, looking out over the field where his men conducted their training. They need to get their confidence back, he thought. And I need to find my own.

He still didn’t know what strange weapons had attacked his men, and he knew that finding out was his best chance at survival. He worried over both the next battle and his ultimate explanation to the temperamental king, and redirecting blame was a core survival skill in this army. Once he found out what had hit them, he was sure there was some court functionary that should have known what was going on.

The commander called one of his trusted aides and gave him specific orders. They were to dress up as a traveling merchant and learn all they could about the force they had fought. He’d probably have to go all the way to Brighton and back, but perhaps they’d get lucky and hear about the force from one of the closer villages they passed through.

At the commander’s orders, roving patrols made sure he’d get an early warning if the force came within a day’s ride, but nothing had been seen yet, so the Silver Kingdom’s soldiers rested and recovered. They invested half of each day into adding fortifications to the town. For once, the men didn’t question their orders.

When the men were done with their training and work for the day, he followed them towards the cramped houses they had appropriated. He had the nicest of the lot and only had to share with his aides. The last action of the day he took was to pen a letter to his king, providing an update and making a request.

---

Jason’s townsfolk were thrilled to head back towards their home. They sang, shouted, laughed, and recounted the experience that was fresh in their mind.

You deserve the high spirits, Jason thought as he rode on his horse at the head of the column. Yesterday you were farmers and tradesmen. Today, you’re veterans. He thought of the covered body in the wagon behind him. We only lost one, but what an immeasurable cost.

The lord hadn’t known Jered well. He had asked around after the battle and learned the young man was a widower, with no children; his wife had died in childbirth. Still, he heard the man had kept a smile on his face, and cheerfully greeted all his neighbors whenever he drove his cart around the growing town to make his many deliveries.

You’ll be missed, but not forgotten. Jason promised the man and himself.

Another cart held wounded villagers. A badly burned face, an arrow to the shoulder, and various sprains and cuts were visible. Further wagons held bandaged and bound prisoners. Jason still hadn’t figured out what he was going to do with them. The “kill them all and be done with it” suggestion from Tyler hadn’t felt right, and he’d gained enough goodwill from the people that they were willing to put up with his stranger ideas.

As the carts pulled into view of the still-unnamed village, shouts went up from those who saw them first. Soon half a town’s worth of people started running to meet them. The excited calls and tearful reunions happening all around him made Jason proud but reminded him of his loneliness. Sarah, I wish you were here to see this, he thought before he remembered the fear he just went through. But I’m glad you don’t have to live the danger or feel the pain.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

The tired lord gingerly touched congealed blood on his scalp. I got lucky. We all did. The next time, we can’t count on the enemy falling perfectly into our plan.

As the town slowly made their way to their homes, celebrating their victory, Jason was left alone, standing in front of his newly-built home’s front door.

Home, at last, he thought. But when did I start considering this home?

---

The war council convened at noon the next day. Jason welcomed Tyler, Otto, and Alex into his home, and they sat around the table and chatted for a while. Phipp walked in carrying a tray of steaming food followed by a young brunette lady similarly encumbered.

“Gentlemen,” Jason spoke up, “I’ve invited two new members to our council. You all know Phipp, who was the town’s leader before I so rudely took over.”

Phipp smiled. “I gladly gave up the responsibility, my lord.”

“Still, you were, and still are, in touch with the people’s needs and desires. I’ve asked you enough questions in the last several weeks that I thought we should make this official. Welcome to the team, councilman Phipp.” The others clapped as he gave an exaggerated bow.

“The other addition to our team caught my attention when she unintentionally developed quick fuses for our grenades. Make no mistake, though; she’s not here by accident.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow at that and smirked.

Jason ignored him and continued. “According to all accounts, she’s a hard worker, curious about how things work, can read, write, and work with numbers, courtesy of her merchant father. With Alex spending more and more time running the daily operations of the town, I need an assistant that can take notes and keep me at peak efficiency. Please welcome Miss Samantha Chapman as our first councilwoman.”

The men all applauded enthusiastically and congratulated her as she blushed and accepted their praise.

“The rest of you are councilmen too. Congratulations. Now, on to the real work. We decided not to pursue the enemy army because we were almost out of cartridges. How are we doing on sourcing the components for gunpowder, Alex?”

“I’ve found more saltpeter in Brighton, my lord,” the portly man responded. “I may not be welcome there anymore, but my contacts are still willing to work with me. I found a young couple who loved our town, but they aren’t ready to settle down quite yet. They both know their numbers and enjoy haggling, so I offered them the chance to travel a bit and earn some coin as they did. I’ve been coaching them on who to deal with and who to avoid in the city.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You trust them?”

“I would surely hope so - I gave them a bag of your money and sent them off!” Alex joked. “The first trip I didn’t give them much capital. But I did send them off with a decent chunk a couple of days ago when they returned with news of the saltpeter. I knew how important that was to you.”

“To all of us, Alex,” Jason replied. “It’s the stuff that stands between our enemies and us.”

“Of course, my lord, my apologies,” Alex backtracked.

“No, no, I know you understand how important this is. Thanks for your work in finding a supplier. Did you find out where they got it from?”

An uncomfortable look crossed the man’s face. “Not yet, my lord, but I’ll try to track it down. I did learn that they usually make it from bat guano.”

“What?” a startled exclamation came from Samantha. “I soaked my hands in that making the match cords!”

Jason guffawed, and the other men let smiles creep over their faces.

“You saved lives, Sam. Was it worth it?”

“Yes, but…”

Jason interrupted, “Your sacrifice is appreciated. Now, on to the next topic.”

Samantha glared at him, unconsciously wiping her hands on each other.

“Can we give this town a name so I can stop calling it the town?”