Cheese knelt beside the unconscious priest, his sharp gaze sweeping over the man’s pale face. "So?" he muttered, pressing two fingers to the priest’s neck to check his pulse. Satisfied that the man was alive—if exhausted—Cheese leaned back on his heels. "Will he be, okay?"

Toggart, still kneeling with his head down, sighed. "He’ll be fine. Poor fool is a bit excitable. And the days have been long"

Cheese snorted, rising to his feet and brushing his hands on his stained tunic. "That is true. While he’s out, I’ve got questions. You’ve been my priest my whole life. I suppose you know about the other gods?"

Toggart raised an eyebrow. "That’s a broad question, Bladesman"

Cheese walked over to the war table, dragging a finger across one of the maps before flicking a stray cheese rind onto the floor. He looked at Toggart seriously. "The three other pantheons. What can you tell me about them? I keep hearing bits and pieces, but nothing that fits together. Honestly until this all started, I thought the pantheon of the many gods was it in terms of gods."

Toggart’s expression shifted to one of faint surprise. "Three? There is only one I know of besides our own. And it's not popular. The church venerates the Pantheon of the Many Gods—the collection of divine beings who oversee aspects of human life. You know, gods of war, dread, love, wine, justice, the usual."

Cheese waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I know those. We met them so I'd hope I was familiar. What about the others?"

Toggart adjusted his robes, speaking carefully. "The other one is the Pantheon of Life, typically seen as the non-human gods. The spirits of the natural world—the god of the forest, the god of wolves, the river gods. Entities that embody the wild and untamed. They don’t always align with human concerns but maintain the balance of nature itself."

Cheese frowned, rubbing his chin. "So, like Yid? She’s part of this Pantheon of Life?"

Toggart hesitated. "Yid is… complicated. She’s considered the protector of nature, yes, but humans are her chosen instruments. Because of that, some classify her as part of the Many Gods rather than the Pantheon of Life. She bridges the divide, in a way."

"Then" continued Cheese as he leaned his back on a wall and stared at the other man. "There is the pantheon of the Heretic..." Cheese turned his attention to his divine panel. "At least one. And I do have powers, though they are limited. Do you have any information on that, on the powers it gives? I can't be the first heretic in the world."

Toggart’s lips twitched, almost smiling despite himself. " Well, Bladesman, I can't speak to powers from the divine.... but you're changing. We can all see it. We are all seeing growth since this started, but your growth is absurd. Just two weeks ago you were stuck at the first bottleneck and now..." He trailed off not needing to point it out. Cheese had almost reached the level of that teacher who had been recognized by the system. It was unnaturally fast. Toggart continued "Men can see something in you... and its building. You serve this baron, and it feels unnatural to us all to see you subservient to another. We know why you do, and we trust you. But it's just wrong in a way I can't describe. And I knew you before this all. Some of the men did not, and there is a power in that. They believe in you."

Cheese leaned on the table, glaring down at the chaotic pile of maps. "So, people feel drawn to me?"

Toggart opened his mouth and then closed it. "I can't honestly say if it’s magic. It may just be the trust they place with you due to the gods choosing you. But I can say I feel a draw and reverence I don't understand. And others who know you feel it as well. I know you're .... I know Switzerland, the boy who ran around and chopped trees with his father. The young man who wanted nothing more than to make the village proud. But I FEEL the Bladesman. When you walk into a room it feels oppressive, strong. That feeling is overpowering to everything else I know about you, and it almost replaces the memories. What’s more I want it to replace them. Because you provide hope. “

Cheese saw his mother nodding along with the priests' words. "If I had to guess" said Toggart as he glanced up. "That is a power from your pantheon."

Cheese was quiet for a long moment and then he asked, "Have you seen the force arrayed against us Toggart?"

The man nodded and Cheese asked the question he had been building towards without knowing it.

"And when you look on them.... do you feel that same presence?"

A moment passed and then finally Toggart nodded again. "Not in one particular individual.... but yes. It is there. Over the entire force there is a faint tinge of it. But different. I see them and I feel hopeless. Like a predator is watching me. Whereas when you look at me I feel almost safe. I feel like as long as you are there, I have hope, yet when I look out on that sea, I feel as if all hope is being sucked out of me"

Cheese nodded at this. That confirmed one thing he had been thinking about. During the fight he had felt that film of power over those he fought. It was not the largest discrepancy in the world.... but it was enough. What his new Observe saw, and what he faced felt different. They were drawing mana from somewhere else.

"Well," Cheese said as he poured wine for himself. "The two questions we have to ask are, who are the other pantheon, and which one are we facing here?"

"Ex-excuse me?" asked Toggart with a glance of surprise. "What exactly do you mean by other pantheon? I told you there are only two, and yours. That makes theee total"

"My menus" said Cheese as he sipped at his drink. He frowned, it tasted like it was spoiled. He checked the label and laughed at himself, it had been made before he had been born and had likely been in this war room for ten years. "It says there are four. Mine, and three others. I`m ranked fourth overall."

The smaller man let out a yelp Cheese had to let out a sigh. "So, I know I`m not the cause of them. That leaves three others. Two we know of and seem unlikely. So, who is the third one?" He left the question in the air, and then slowly continued. "If you had to ask one of the remaining gods that question.... who would you choose Toggart?"

The poor man's mouth was opening and closing rapidly, and Cheese had to stifle a groan. Eventually a reply came. "Knowing what we know... the blood huntress. She is the most inclined to assist you in a hunt. She is not a schemer, at least the legends say she is not. And she looked favorably on you during the audience."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Cheese wasn't so sure about her looking on him favorably. She had scared the shit out of him, but the rest seemed accurate, so he agreed saying "Fine, I`ll do it soon."

A squeak escaped the man, and he said "You mean you can actually speak to them? Whenever you want?"

Cheese shook his head and replied "No it will cost me, but not a lot. And I'm not sure what form the conversation takes. Now, moving on. How are the men dealing with this all."

He addressed his mother in this as well, and she said "The injured are healing rapidly. I`ve been quite surprised. A number who were injured yesterday show only bruised overnight."

Toggart nodded and added "We read this in the scripture. Injuries heal far faster, and people of great skill can even regrow limbs if given enough time. "

That surprised Cheese, but he was glad to hear it. Before he could reply there was a knock on the door. The unconscious priest began to stir, and Cheese said "Enter."

The door opened, and a number of his junior officers, as well as Elder Tompson and Ibron filed in. They skirted around the still kneeling Toggart, and the now awakening priest. Cheese nodded at his brother Waff who walked up and without preamble said, "Got our ass kicked."

Cheese raised an eyebrow. "The scouting party?"

The large man nodded, accepting the wine Cheese handed him. He downed it without so much as a grimace at the poor taste. "Got any water?" he asked, settling into a large chair. Despite the men standing at near attention around him, he seemed entirely at ease.

Cheese turned to Nold. "Will you please have someone bring us drinks?"

The younger man jumped up, his response quick and eager. "Yes, Bladesman." He scurried out of the room.

Cheese shifted his gaze to his brother, who began recounting the battle outside the walls. As Waff spoke, a frown crept onto Cheese’s face.

"Well, ya see," Waff began, "we were out there because the Baron wanted to see the land for himself. He said the scouts' reports didn’t add up. One set reported 5,000 of the green bastards. The next said three times that number, and after that, back to 5,000. It made no sense. So, he wanted a look himself."

Waff paused to sip his wine before continuing. "So, we went. We’d barely made it out of the walls and into the woods when we fell into their trap. They came at us from the forest—some 400 of those dogs and about ten trolls."

He went quiet for a moment, his expression grim. "The trolls were big—not as large as the giants we fought before, but close. Worse, they were almost all experts. The dogs were easy enough to cut down, but the trolls harried us for three hours, forcing our horses south toward the coast. Eventually, they pushed us exactly where they wanted us."

Cheese watched as Waff chose his next words carefully. "Out there... there’s a landing happening along the water. Many ships were Ferring men, trolls, beasts, and goblins to the shore. I couldn’t count them—there were too many. The trolls drove us straight to it. When the Baron saw what we were up against, he turned us around and gave the order to charge the trolls. He was still fighting when my squad broke through."

A heavy silence followed his words, broken only by their mother’s quiet voice. "Did... did the Baron give any orders?"

Waff turned his gaze to her, nodding slowly. "He said to run."

Cheese swept his eyes over the officers gathered before him. Run? How could they run? They’d all seen the enemy forces outside the walls. Forget the approaching horde—they couldn’t even handle the creatures already here. He sighed deeply, nodding solemnly. "Waff, how long before they arrive?"

The larger man shrugged. "That many? We covered the distance in about three hours, and that was on horseback, under heavy pressure. They’ll likely take a day—two if we’re lucky. I just don’t know."

One of the silent officers stepped forward. "Bladesman, I serve as a scout of the Baron's. May I speak?"

Cheese nodded, and the man continued. "I can’t estimate the enemy's numbers accurately, but their force is vast. They’re not prepared to march just yet. They’ve been there for some time—weeks, at least. They’ve built structures, clearly staging for something. Whatever they were waiting for, though, we’ve forced their hand. When they saw us, they sounded horns, and a score of riders pursued us. I believe we’ve sprung the trap early. I’d expect them here in no less than two days."

Cheese chewed his lip, his mind racing. Finally, he turned to Ibron, who stood with the other officers. "Go. Make ready for the women and children to flee tomorrow morning."

Then he turned to Waff, bracing himself. "Brother, I’m sorry," he said, his tone steady. "I order you to take charge of the people of Timberbrook and Fairhaven. You’ll lead them across the river tomorrow morning and guide them north. You may take a hundred men."

Waff held his gaze, his voice low and measured. "Why not Ibron? Or Tompson? Why send me away?"

Cheese didn’t hesitate. "Because I trust you to have the strength to protect them, and you were not on the walls with me. I felt them looking Waff. If me or them are not out there tomorrow, then they will know something is wrong."

The look on Waffs face was hard, but after a moment he nodded and said "By your leave Bladesman" then stood and stormed out of the room.

Cheese looked at Elder Tompson who stood in the rear of the room with his great bow. The older man simply nodded once in agreement.

"Mother" Cheese asked offhandedly "Can you please go make sure our wounded are ready to go?"

He looked in her direction as he spoke and saw that she was holding back tears. Yet she responded in kind "Yes Bladesman." before leaving the room.

Cheese turned his attention to his officers then. As he scanned the room, he saw many of them shifting uncomfortably before him. "Before I speak, are there any questions?"

A single man stepped forward, it was the scout who had spoken before. He asked "Bladesman, are we to die?"

Cheese looked at the man cooly and said "Die? Perhaps." he let a moment pass and then continued "I do not consider death. It will come or it will not. What we will do is convince the enemy that we remain strong. They come at us with a tide of bodies. Our goal is to plan on how to part that tide until either help comes, or we kill them all. We know that the king approaches from the northwest. My question is, why did they let us see their plan?"

There was silence in the room, the weight of Cheese’s question hanging heavy in the air. If the enemy was trying to trap the king, why would they alert the force here of it?

It was Tompson who finally broke the stillness. "Because someone wasn’t happy to be used as bait for the King."

"Exactly my thoughts," Cheese replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "Someone in Fairhaven wants us to tell the king about the trap—or at least, they want us to try. Either the Baron lives and is heading there now, or he’s already dead."

The men around him absorbed this grim logic, the implications sinking in. Then Nold, his voice small but steady, spoke up. "So... our people should be safe?"

Cheese nodded. "Yes. Whoever is directing these events from Fairhaven will likely allow our people to leave—so long as they head toward the king."

"Then why do we stay?" one of the young officers blurted out, his voice sharp with frustration.

"Because," Nold answered softly, "the enemy at the boats knows we’re here. If we all leave, they’ll follow. It’s only those at Fairhaven who are allowing us this chance."

A quiet understanding settled over the group, the gravity of their situation palpable. Cheese felt a flicker of pride for the boy; Nold had reached the same conclusion he had.

After a moment’s thought, Cheese addressed the room. "So the question becomes: how do we make it clear that we are confident in our position while giving those who flee tomorrow the chance to escape?"

The silence stretched as the men considered this, until Cheese leaned forward, his voice firm and resolute. "I will take volunteers. Under the cover of darkness, an hour before the citizens leave, we’ll strike. I need 200 warriors—at least high apprentice level."

A murmur rippled through the room, but before anyone could respond, a sudden knock echoed from the door.

Cheese stiffened. "Enter," he called, his voice steady, though his hand hovered instinctively near his blade.

The door creaked open, and a scout stumbled in, his face pale, his breaths labored. He looked up, his eyes wide with alarm.

"They’re moving," the runner rasped. "The enemy... they’re gathering outside of bow range with ladders."

Cheese’s smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by grim determination. "How many?"

"All those in the city, thousands" he said as he straightened himself. "And they're being led by.... well you best see yourself sir."

For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of the words settling like a stone in their chests. Then they sprang into action as the horns began to sound.