V2: Chapter 11:

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Interlude: Rita

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Our King once against showed his brilliance to the world in method of arrival to the front.

The system was new, a method of quickly relaying messages across the continent, and it was tested today. Stations of messengers and flying mounts, each within reach with one another, meant to form an unbroken chain from one place to another. The concept was tested with myself and Ilych, alongside our war gear, on the way to the front against the Guardians of the Moon.

A relay of stations, riders, and all manner of mounts.

Ascend, ride, descend, and once again at another place in another time.

We flew fast, to the limit of each mount, but none perished or were expended as they flew for naught more the four hours before each rest. Then, we met with new riders and new mounts, both pairs fresh, and joined them through the skies.

A journey that should've taken two weeks for us, breaking horses by pushing them past their limit, took mere five days.

We arrived on time.

"Commander Ilych. Commander Rita." One of Riegert's men greeted us. Oswald was his name. Head bereft of hair, save for a large mustache and bushy eyebrows, he was a face covered in scars and tanned by the sun. He seemed out of place in shining steel armor and an untattered scarlet coat, let alone a blessed blade, but the years of mercenary work were long behind him now. He led true armies now. "We've just finished the outermost region off. Nothing but a few defending swarms of raised skeletons. No trouble. No casualties."

Ilych nodded, and I answered.

"Good. Begin unmaking the Guardian's territory. All that is worth taking shall be taken. That which cannot be taken will burn. Tell the mages to unmake their hallowed ground, as well." Oswald relayed my command to his officers the moment I presented to him our king's crest, which was the similar to the one on his back. A golden crow with wings spread wide holding arrows in one talon and a scroll in the other. Our King did not shy away from his past. The difference in the one I carried was that a wax seal of blue upon which our king pressed his signet ring. "The Guardians have refused the peace we have offered and so they must be brought low."

"Yes, commander. This'll be good for the new troops." I agreed with Oswald with a nod, as he led us past the landing area of the camp's command post. A few strides and we were out of its perimeter and looking upon a vast field filled by the army. Tents were arrayed in clusters around fires and their supplies. Latrines were dug and sectioned off beside places for waste. Places for drill, practice, and assembly were set. The normal train of civilians that followed armies was outside, past the fortifications made by filling large, hollow blocks of textile and wire with hundreds of pounds of dirt. There was another form of defense at the front too, a spool of curling wire that unfurled into long, deadly blades to deter any from trying to scale the wall. Much was from our King's mind, but refined by the places of learning that he funded. "Riegert will be arriving in a few days."

Ilych stepped forward and then gestured to a village in the distance.

I nodded.

"Give us your light cavalry, we'll strike out against the village and run along their west side. We shall attract attention and hope to get their Champions after us. Your forces shall take the east." Speed and power in equal measure. Some said that one or the other was chosen, but our King thought differently. Our duty was to strike as fast as lightning and withdraw as quickly as one did, too. Though Ilych and I were fresh from a long journey, we had no need for rest yet. Months on end of the Academy, with sparse moments of activity in the ruins below, meant that we had power to spare. "Ride out at dawn. Send all you can. Inform them that they will find only destruction where we are. If the enemy Champion searches for you, withdraw and call for us."

"Yes, commander." A shadow of consternation formed on the veteran's face at the thought of retreat, but it faded when he looked upon his troops. They were the not the veterans and fellow lifetime warriors he fought with before. These were young men with bright futures set to serve under the King of Wisdom… and greater foes loomed on the horizon. They were needed more in the future than the present. "Ride well and let nothing break your stride."

Ilych surprisingly spoke.

"Survive, uncle, and retire after this. Leave everything to us."

Then, the silent giant clad in all-black returned and waded towards the horizon.

Oswald's throat clenched and his eyes grew wet, but a smile split on his lips and a chuckle left him, before he turned and left without a word.

I went after Ilych a moment later.

It was good that those who fought for so long can soon rest and rely on those they protected.

…

Ilych had been unable to display her strength and power in the narrow tunnels of the ruins. Outside, even in the midst of buildings of wood and thatch, her true strength was unveiled.

"Hah!" Exerting herself completely resulted in dozens of skeletons wielding clubs and maces to come undone. They were not simply broken apart and made so that they could reform, but instead utterly shattered and thus became incapable of reforming. The blood-drinking relic that she wielded drank the power that gave them movement, but that mattered little when a swipe of the blade smashed through row after row from one side of a street to another and left naught but dust. "Rita! Upon the town hall!"

She cried out and I turned my gaze to her shout.

I found the last of my prey.

No.

Target.

The bow that I used was found in the treasure of my former people. Our King told me it was perfect for hunting down single targets at range, but poor for work up close. He was correct. The people to whom I once belonged called it the Springsong and it was composed of a white wood and Ancient-forged metals reforged in their Citadel. As tall as I, with a string composed of unknown metal from the Ancients, it was also enchanted to give its user far longer range and imbue the arrows with greater speed, resiliency, and to overcome magical defenses.

I sighted the necromancer leading the defense in town's main hall, defended by armored men-at-arms, and fell back on instant.

I fell away, becoming nothing, while my whole world for an instant became my target, my arrow, and my target. Instinct and skill came together as I drew back the weapon, my body's cries of fatigue and stress a faraway memory, while I moved to what my instinct detected and that which I could not. The wind that blew across the forested tree tops, the currents of magic across the town, the movement of my own target… all of it moved the arrow and bow until I knew one singular thing: that my shot would land.

I let loose, the winds surged around my arrow, and it flew.

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A moment later the necromancer's arm and her staff blew apart, and she stood, unknown, until she realized what became and opened her mouth to a scream that I could not hear.

The defenses crumbled with her power disrupted, and the sound of hooves reached my ears.

The first town of many that would fall to us.

The light cavalry will take what we needed and hurry the refugees to the Citadel of the Guardians, while Ilych and I shattered the Guardian's western frontier.

Before they could breathe, before they could form a plan, and before they could march out, we will be victorious.

…

Interlude: Riegert

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I thought I knew what devastation an army could inflict. After years and years with Khanrow, fighting, killing, and taking spoils from whatever we could afford, I though I'd seen what soldiers could do when told to destroy. So, I nodded at Jack's words, steeled my heart, and accepted what was to come from what we were meant to do.

Then, I arrived at the front and realized that I did not understand.

"General, you're early."

"Not early enough, Oswald. What am I looking at?" The camp was laid out well. Food and tents in one area, assembly, and places to maintain hygiene. As typical as any well-made camp, if a bit better defended with the textiles and wires made in the Citadel. The barbed wire was nasty stuff that could easily end cavalry, but the large blocks of reinforced dirt made for good walls too, but that wasn't what took me off guard. "Is this what you've gathered in just five days?"

Jack had called the army to move the moment we'd heard the first rumor. He knew we could bribe the Conquerors, and tried with the Guardians, but failed with the latter. So, he told us to march, Khanrow nodded, and the armies went forward. Only when the letter arrived that war was the only option did we strike, with Rita and Ilych pulled from the Academy to support us. Jack gave a gift to the Cult of the Smiling Tyrant to protect our people and entertain them, and I left to join once the first shipment arrived at the Conqueror's Citadel.

I thought I'd see an army waiting to be commanded.

Instead, from above, I'd seen dozens of burning villages and our forward base's assembly areas turned into storage areas.

Storage areas surrounded by wagons waiting to be unloaded.

"The fresh blood is something else, General. All that training, all the food, and probably the mission. Lots of young lads are here knowing they're fighting for what's right… and getting rich off it." Oswald had a keen eye for the troops. It was why I chose him to lead in my stead when I was gone. He did a good job keeping people together and didn't hesitate to call for a retreat, while being the last to leave. A good man… and there was envy and awe in his eyes. "Imagine if we started out like this when we first went out into the world? Two cities and a king at our backs, fighting to bring down someone who wants to end a peace we've enjoyed, and getting rich off of it?"

"It's hard to imagine, but the boys down there seem to be enjoying just that." The morale in the camp was high. No. That was an understatement. There was an electricity in the air, like all the soldiers were itching to be sent out. The camps I remembered were filled with cunning, lean wolves. Deadly, but willing to back down from a fight. These boys, covered in armor, chatting, and glancing at the walls and seeing the faraway fires… they all reminded me of a swarm of monsters ready to be unleashed. "Any word on the Guardians sending someone strong our way?"

"Ilych and Rita are sending them on a wild chase along the western side of the guardian territory. Heavily forested area, small villages, and hard for Undead swarms to navigate." That was the weakness of the Guardians in their home territory. They had plenty to summon, but that plenty took the form of skeletons or walking corpses. Lots of numbers, but not fast enough to stop. They could hold ground, but when the goal was to chase down two powerful people like my daughter and Rita… "That kid we picked up knows his stuff, huh?"

"Yeah… but he still has a thing or two to learn." I can work with this energy. Jack was too cautious and fair. There wasn't enough bloodlust in his orders. This tight-knit, professional army he made achieved their objectives… and none of the lower officers were coming up to suggest we keep moving, until we had to stop. This was a land filled with enemies they could whet their blades against, test their skills, and find their mistakes. "Call up the willing. We're going for another run."

"…And, here I thought you got soft raiding ruins all the time and dealing with diplomacy, Captain." Oswald chuckled, and I raised my brow when he didn't call me general. It's been a long time since I got called captain, and I found that I liked it. Times were more gruesome and violent when I had that title, but they were simpler too. This area was sophisticated and strong, but it needed to be simplified, just a little. I needed to make it a bit hungrier and give it some spite, so that in the direst of moments it'll be that much stronger. "Where do you think we need to go?"

"Where else, besides the next, primary objective?" Villages were the first phase. Outlying sectors that just acted as points to recruit talent and soldiers. Nothing important. Towns, meanwhile, had manufacturing or some sort of product that they imported. One of our primary objectives was to raze the fields of the Guardians by half, just barely keeping them out of a famine if they employed strict rationing. The sooner we started, the sooner that they understood they needed to surrender. "We aim for the nearest agricultural town. It'll be like old times. Not much to carry… a lot to burn. Saddle up."

"Aye, captain! Everyone else… you heard the man! MOUNT UP!"

The command post was galvanized, while I took a seat and waited for a horse.

I looked at my hands.

Liver spots and wrinkles were scattered across it, but when I gripped tight there was no trembling.

Not yet.

I was still strong, but not for much longer.

But, unlike all the times a decade ago, the thought didn't bring fear in my heart.

Instead, I looked at the machine of war coming alive in minutes as soon as the first trumpet sounded and felt a sense of duty. This was it, these were my last years, but they were going to be my best years. The years when I made my mark upon the world, when I trained true officers that would follow my teachings and pass it down, and led armies instead of warbands.

I looked upon the Deliverer and felt inadequate, small, and mundane, despite all that I achieved.

Now was the time to change that, not just for myself, but for the people walking down the road that paved.

"Heh, not bad." I hefted my axe, still as light as a feather, and felt for my armor. Like always, it felt like a second skin. "Not for a killer, or a kid living off of scraps."

I'll give these kids everything I have at my very best.

It was more than I ever though that I could give.