It was the fourth month of the first year of Restored Stability, this being the reign title adopted by Husun the Sixth upon his assumption of the throne, a fact of which I was at this time unaware, that outside trouble penetrated through the bounds of the swamps and reached Varu-Tavur following a mostly peaceful winter. This was, in Shdustu, with the first glimmers of spring just beginning and much of the land still frozen and cold, the time of greatest privation. Food stores lay near exhaustion, hunting produced limited returns with the animals themselves weakened by the long winter, there was as yet no new growth to be found.

This time was also the final opportunity of the year for military adventurism before the annual spring floods, traditionally the dominant feature of the fifth month, rendered all such actions impossible. Combined together, these two factors drew forth the desperate to attempt enterprises of great foolishness. On such action was an assault deep into Rutar territory by an armed group that called itself the Army of Blade Brothers. This was a coalition of mercenaries, bandits, outcasts, caravaneers, and displaced Nikkad assembled under the leadership of Ynayal, who was the youngest brother of the former Prince of Snushgud. This princeling had been forced to flee the city following the disruptions of the previous autumn and, finding no succor in nearby towns due to tributary arrangements with the Kharal that precluded them from offering shelter to nobles on the run, turned to banditry instead. Ynayal managed to gather up a fairly vast force of the desperate during these hard times and successfully pillaged numerous targets up to the size of small Nikkad towns in a campaign of mass banditry that lasted throughout the winter months. Success drew ever greater numbers to his banner and by the time the winter began to wane his followers numbered some five thousand under arms. Being utterly without restraint or morals, he also acquired the assistance of a cadre of wizards who initially aided him greatly in overcoming the defensive fortifications of his targets and gradually grew to serve as critical advisors. This group was led by a man I will call the Pustulant Jade, for his name does not deserve the preservation of history.

Ynayal was both a charismatic figure capable of gathering in loyal adherents and a skilled organizer possessed of the operational knowledge necessary to hold together such a motely force as he controlled through the hardships of winter. He was also unafraid to utilize the desperation afflicting his forces, all of whom knew that defeat meant execution or starvation, into furiously violent assaults few other armies would be willing to commit. In this way he won his greatest victory, defeating a Kharal warband nearly twice his own numbers under a capable general, by successfully rallying his men to counter-attack at the moment the herdsmen thought he had broken and charged. A great force of horse perished upon their spearpoints. This victory caused the Kharal to leave him alone and also fed his troops in horseflesh for nearly a month.

By the fourth month, however, Ynayal had depleted the environs of Snushgud of easy targets. Worse, the khagan, furious at his losses earlier in the winter and done dealing with Snushgud himself, had gathered together a mighty warband and declared that he would grant a stallion from his own stock to the man who brought him Ynayal’s head, which was a very large bounty indeed among the Kharal. Ynayal, recognizing that evading Kharal pursuit on the open steppe would be almost impossible and that defeating a superior mounted force in the field was a trick he was unlikely to repeat, turned south. He presumably hoped to raid his way through the Rutar and then perhaps escape across the salt sea in a ship laden with enough plunder to allow him to live a kingly life for the rest of his days. He certainly had the riches to support this, as his army moved across the steppe surrounding carts so heavily burdened with gold that their wheels creaked through every rotation. He also believed that Dukamun Khagan, that grizzled and wise lord of horsemen, would avoid following him into the swamps. This supposition proved entirely correct, but the Kharal are not unable to exert influence even in lands where they do not ride. The khagan sent a messenger offering the Rutar forgiveness of tribute for a full decade and Ynayal’s weight in bronze, a powerful inducement for such a metal poor people, if they dispersed the army and brought him the head.

Knowing that fighting could not be avoided, since the onrushing horde would seek to plunder the people’s stores even if they tried to avoid battle, Ludun-Mulun rushed back to Varu-Tavur and dispatched messengers across the whole of the swamp calling for all warriors of the Rutar to rally to him and all others to move as far from the river as possible. He planned to give battle to the east of the river on a patch of raised ground that would surely be the path followed by the invaders. The strength the swamp-dwellers hoped to summon was roughly three thousand, all that could possibly reach them in time. I thought this a most limited levy, especially given that there were others who might arrive from a greater distance, but Ludun-Mulun expressed great confidence and promised to show me why the Kharal do not venture into the depths of the marshes.

These three thousand fighters were a wide variety indeed, sporting numerous differences in dress and accent, and featuring boys as young as fourteen and elders upwards of seventy. Two-thirds of them reported as archers. The remainder served as one of two types of infantry. One half was armed with long halberd-like weapons, the others with heavy shields and war clubs. The archers were the easiest group to explain. They wore little armor beyond thicky layered coats and wide-brimmed hats plated with hardened leather to deflect missiles. In case of facing blows in melee they carried long knives only, but such was never their intent. They relied upon mighty bows instead, which often came to close to their own height and were derived from swamp-growing cypress not found elsewhere in Shdustu. These powerful implements of archery were quite impressive, able to outrange the composite bows of the Kharal and thereby allowing the Rutar considerable control over where and when to engage the enemy. The halberdiers were more familiar. The crescent-shaped axe-heads of their weapons are broader than those used by the Sairn, but these are otherwise similar weapons. Rutar warriors are more lightly armored, wearing lamellar coats comprised of multiple layers of hardened leather that hang from the shoulders to just above the knees. This is often augmented by shoulder pauldrons, pot helmets with faceguards, and additionally hardened leather on the forearms and forelegs. Helmets and shoulder pauldrons are more often bronze than steel, as it does not rust away and may be used in battle for generations, but most are still obligated to do without.

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Greatclub wielding warriors are similarly attired, but they also carry heavy shields. These have a rectangular form, slightly curved, and an exterior face sporting conical spikes. Shields are made of heavy wood and are thick and tough. The war clubs are similarly thick oak, spiked using boar tusks or other teeth that are intended to break off within the flesh during a strike, and may be clad in lead banding. Though soft, the lead provides extra weight and thereby further empowers mighty crushing blows. Such weapons can easily cripple even striking through armor. Fighting in this way demands extreme strength and strains the stamina immensely. Only the strongest Rutar are chosen for this path, which carries great prestige.

I expected the Rutar to organize their forces based on their village origins, but to my surprise this was not done. Instead, Ludun-Mulun chose out subordinate officers and the soldiers grouped up around them according to traditional patterns that were apparently derived from performance in regular sporting contests, most notably distance swimming. As strange as I found this lack of formal order, the resulting units displayed considerable camaraderie and zeal, with each man inspired to outdo his fellows. Each unit consisted of eighty-one warriors, an appropriately sacred number, and was blessed by the shamans prior to departure. I found this practice rather dubious. Sairn priests do not involve themselves in warfare, as the Divines are above disputes regarding the illusion of human control over the land. The shamans did not object to this, but claimed instead that those who fight in defense of home and family have the support of the Divines. A comforting thought, though I rather doubt its accuracy.

The Rutar forces did not travel as a united army, but instead dispersed along the swamp trails and pathways in their small units with the intent to rendezvous at the preset point Ludun-Mulun had chosen. This was centered upon a grove of gigantic trees widely known to all the leaders. They had no fear of ambush from the invaders, for outsiders could only travel in number upon a very small set of elevated paths. Otherwise, they would necessarily need to disperse into the wetlands and be exposed to the soaking cold with every step. Ludun-Mulun told me he could only hope that Ynayal would be so foolish, as if that occurred, he could disperse his archers and ambush the enemy detachments one by one until they were buried in the mud riddled with arrows. A prolonged campaign favored the Rutar, especially given that a delay of only a few weeks would bring the floods and simply annihilate their enemies entirely without the need to so much as lift a spear.

Ynayal, regrettably, remained aware of such factors and kept his force together on the direct path to Varu-Tavur. Though this much imposed considerable suffering upon the invaders, who had little chance to forage as a result, it became clear that they would be able to force an engagement lest they pour into Varu-Tavur and seized the entirety of its stores. The Rutar, knowing this, took steps to evacuate much of the village even though they expressed great confidence in winning the battle to come. This included the removal of Lady Indili and her apprentices to the south toward the shores of the salt sea. Though the ice would clog the river mouth for some time, it was considered reasonable to await the opening of the surface trade at the port village of Tarvu. Provisions, rather than being taken away by those seeking refuge, went north with the army. The various Rutar units recruited a number of camp followers to join them and provide the various services needed by troops on the march. As this was a highly informal process it lacked discipline and would have been ruinous to any force trying to travel a great distance or operating in hostile territory. The Rutar, however, were crossing only a few days’ worth of marshland and their adherents were completely capable of vanishing into the reeds at the approach of enemy soldiers.

Ludun-Mulun asked me to join his forces on the march, that I might record the events of the battle for history and speak of the valor of his people to the Emperor. This was a reasonable request, one I had no reason to refuse, for at this time I was unaware that the Pustulant Jade was specifically searching for me in the hopes of capturing me and draining out my blood to power his experiments. This lack of knowledge was to bring about deeply regrettable consequences. Knowing that even proximity to a battle, regardless of an unwillingness to participate, carries risk, I sent all my maps, notes, and samples ahead with Lady Indili. Parting with her was a most sorrowful occasion. It meant losing contact with one whose companionship had been invaluable for so long and reducing the Dragon Expedition down to myself alone, which felt distinctly specious. Plans were made to reunite in Tarvu and then travel together aboard the summer trading ships. I would have preferred to simply go south, but the Rutar had been kind, the request was an honorable one, and it is always valuable to the Empire to learn the forms of foreign conflicts.

We marched north on the eighteenth day of the fourth month. I joined the column surrounded by Ludun-Mulun’s elite warriors, called Warmongers, all men of middle age, bearded and bearing numerous battle scars. I was attached to a group of six shamans who had come with the force, primarily to offer healing in the aftermath. Shamans do not respect the prohibition of proper healers against combat service, though in truth their medical knowledge is more important on such a scale than the mystic energies they can marshal. They believed the battle to come would be a glorious victory, but still regarded it with dread, knowing there would be losses. They spent the journey tight-lipped, occupied by nearly continuous prayer. For myself, I spent those few days observing the glimmers of green merging from the brown backdrop of the wintry swamp. Ludun-Mulun, noticing this, told me the ducks would come with the flood, and that they needed to drive away the invaders before the feast that would follow.