Following their previous successes in ambushing the Edorians and drawing them into a meticulously planned trap. Alton shifted his focus towards the southern end of the valley. He wanted to target the enemy's lifelines, baggage trains that were crucial for sustaining their prolonged siege on Fort Kitsu. He wanted the force sieging Kitsu to be completely alone in the valley.
Wolf Company moved with stealth and precision through the rugged terrain that surrounds the valley. Alton decided to stay in the foothills and ridges rather than travel openly on the valley floor. He only had the twenty members of Wolf Company that were combat ready with him. The small group allowed them to move far faster than a common human, even with waiting for the non-awakened. It still took them most of the morning and well into the waning day to reach the next set of Edorian outposts.
These soldiers were honed by recent battles and the significant upgrade in gear. Alton and Amelia paced the group from the front and back. His company was transformed into a formidable guerrilla force. His few remaining scouts returned in intervals, letting him know the position of Edorian camps and supply depots.
Alton's plan involved conducting raids on any remaining targets. Each attack was designed to hit hard and fast, moving on before the Edorians could mount an effective counterattack. By striking these vital points, Alton hoped to cut off the supplies of food, weapons, and medical aid to the Edorian forces. This would strain their ability to maintain the siege and hurt confidence. He wanted them hungry and desperate when the Third Army emerged.
The first raid caught the Edorians by surprise just after dusk. Wolf Company descended upon a baggage train with ferocity, their blades and arrows finding marks among the guards who were barely awake. Supplies were destroyed, and in a matter of minutes, the Agorrans vanished into the morning mist, leaving behind a scene of devastation.
The second and third raids followed a similar pattern, each carefully timed to exploit the confusion and disarray within the Edorian camps. The Thoiri were littered across the valley far behind them to prevent messengers from reaching the main camp. Alton wanted these outposts isolated and out of communication.
Alton’s idea was to not only inflict physical damage on the Edorian forces but also sow seeds of doubt and fear. The constant threat of ambushes and losing critical supplies would erode the morale of the besieging army. An army the size of the one surrounding Kitsu needed a massive amount of food and water. He wanted to deny it all.
As Wolf Company regrouped after the third raid, the mood among the soldiers was cautiously optimistic. They disrupted the enemy's operations significantly and demonstrated that, despite being outnumbered, their skill and equipment could punch well above their weight.
They settled down in a depression set behind a hill a few miles from the closest enemy. It offered visibility for look outs and would provide cover for a fire. Alton had salvaged a full case of whiskey from one of the Edorian camps. It didn’t taste like his preferred Agorran style, but he was willing to sacrifice. He uncorked the first flask and started passing it around.
—-
Nelson sat among his brothers-in-arms, his back to a boulder, feeling the warmth of the fire on his face. His laughter merged with that of the others, and he joined in the jests and jibes with gusto. He tore into the soft meat cooking from the spits when it was finished and passed around. Wolf company were eating like kings from the Edorian spoils.
Every so often, his gaze drifted away from the circle, drawn irresistibly to a figure practicing sword forms a short distance from the fire. His eyes betrayed him to his brother, as Miser elbowed him in the ribs and mimed a maiden swooning. Raucous laughter broke out among those in the know.
Amelia, their deadly sergeant, moved with a grace and precision that captivated Nelson. The firelight dances across her focused face, casting her in a glow that seems almost ethereal. She flows from one form to the next, her blade slicing through the night air, a silent testament to her dedication and skill. The captain sat off to the side and critiqued her forms.
Nelson watched, mesmerized. Each movement of Amelia's sword pulled at something deep within him. A mixture of admiration, pride, and a more tender emotion he dared not give thought, given the circumstances.
His cheeks burn with more than just the heat from the fire each time Amelia's eyes meet his. She flashed him a smile before she immersed herself back into the rhythm of her training. Even Alton seemed to notice and gave him a knowing grin.
Nelson tried to focus on the stories being shared, on the laughter that filled the air. Amelia's presence pulls at him like a tide. He wants to join her, to share in the quiet intensity of her practice, to tell her how much he admires not just the warrior in her, but the person she is beyond the battle. His nerves wouldn’t allow him, not tonight.
—-
As the camp settled into the quiet of the night, Alton watched Amelia, who continues to practice her sword forms with relentless dedication. He offered some critiques and pointers between trying to get her to relax and unwind.
He watched her with his manasight active. She had to be close now to the fifth tier. Her core pulsed brightly. There were still no visible nodes, Alton felt it but just a matter of time. During the coming battle, she would pass the threshold, he was sure.
"Amelia," Alton begins, his voice carrying a soft but firm tone, "you should rest. You've earned a night off, more than anyone."
She pauses mid-form, turning to face him, her expression a mixture of focus and mild irritation. "I can't," she told him, sheathing her sword momentarily. "Not until I get this right. Every misstep is an opening for an enemy. I can’t lose…another one of them."
Alton steps closer, understanding her drive but concerned for her well-being. "Perfection is a noble pursuit, but even the best need to rest. How about a compromise?" he suggests, a playful challenge lighting up his eyes. "Spar with me.”
The offer hangs between them, an unspoken shift from the solitude of practice to the shared experience of combat. After a moment of contemplation, a spark ignites in Amelia's eyes, the prospect of a direct challenge too enticing to resist.
"Fine," she concedes, a half-smile breaking through her stern demeanor. "But no holding back."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alton replies, drawing his own sword with a fluid grace that belies the casual nature of their arrangement.
With a nod from both, the duel commences. Alton attacks first, a series of calculated strikes designed to test Amelia's defense. She parries with equal precision, her counterattacks sharp and deliberate. The first touch goes to Alton, a quick flick of his blade against Amelia’s arm. She acknowledged the point with a nod; her face scrunching up in frustration.
The dance continues, a push and pull of offense and defense, each movement a testament to their skill and understanding of the other. Alton scores the next touch, leaving only one more and escalating the intensity of their bout. The third exchange is a flurry of motion, ending with simultaneous touches, a stalemate that draws the spar to a close three to one in favor of Alton.
Breathing heavily, they lower their swords, mutual respect and understanding reflected in their gazes. Alton extends his hand, congratulating Amelia. "You continue to improve rapidly. A few more years and upon reaching the fifth tier, you will be a menace.”
Amelia sheathes her sword, the tension of the duel giving way to a sense of accomplishment. "Thank you, Captain," she replies, allowing herself a moment to bask in the praise. She let him lead her back to the fire and joined in the revelry. She plopped down between the twins and motioned for someone to pass her a flask.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
—-
As dawn broke, Alton guided Wolf Company back towards the heart of the valley and the Edorian encampment. His mind was a storm of emotions. The weight of command pressed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the lives that depend on his decisions. Memories of his last team flashed through his thoughts. He distracted himself by observing the unbound beauty of the landscape around him.
The valley, with its undulating hills and verdant fields, stretches out beneath a sky of endless blue. The mountains, majestic and imposing, stand sentinel around them, their peaks touching the heavens. It's a view that speaks of timeless beauty, a stark contrast to the scars of war that mar its surface. Alton found himself caught between the duty of the present and the dreams of a peaceful future.
The notion of a life unfettered by the chains of conflict. He imagines a world where his days are not dictated by the rhythm of war, where the weight of a sword in his hand is replaced by the weightless freedom of exploration. A life where the thrill of discovering hidden valleys, ancient ruins, and untamed wildernesses is the only battle he faces. The dream of becoming an adventurer, of trading the business of war for that of adventure, calls to him.
He envisioned a future where he could roam the vast expanses of his country, learning its secrets, understanding its history, and becoming one with its natural beauty. He wanted to visit the other tribal societies hidden in the mountains. Explore locations left unmolested since the time before the Mad God’s war.
But as the camp loomed ahead, the reality of his situation snaps him back to the present. The dream of adventure fades against the backdrop of his duty to his company and his country. He knows that the road to peace is paved with the hardships of war, and that each step they take towards the Edorian encampment is a step towards securing the future he dreams of.
With a deep breath, Alton refocused on the task at hand, steeling himself for the battle to come. He casts one last glance at the breathtaking scenery around him, a silent vow that he will fight with everything he has to ensure that the beauty of his homeland remains unspoiled. For now, the call of adventure must wait, for his people need him, and he will not let them down.
—-
Prian stood before the assembled leadership of Fort Kitsu. A tangible air of anticipation and resolve had filled the space since his arrival. Colonel Riske, General Tavi, Majors Fulham, Tark, and Corbin, along with Captain Davih of the Fox strike team, were gathered around a large table scattered with maps and plans.
Prian told them of the captain’s plan for an all-out assault to be launched at dawn on the fifth day. He spoke of their recent victories over the Edorians, taking the mountain camp and then the successful raid. Colonel Riske nodded in approval, recognizing the boldness and necessity of the strategy. A smile curved his lips up, the old soldier approving of the captain’s boldness.
Majors Fulham, Tark, and Corbin each commanded significant portions of the fortress's defenses. It would be on them to coordinate the assault. They exchanged glances and began to discuss their respective roles in the assault. They talked through the logistics of moving their forces into position; the coordination required with Wolf Company's maneuvers, and the best ways to exploit the chaos that will undoubtedly ensue.
Prian was surprised when there was no argument against the captain’s plan. The assembled leaders seemed to accept it at face value and moved straight into planning. He had never met most of the high command outside of ceremonies, and just being in the room made him feel small.
Captain Davih, leader of the Fox strike team and seasoned in covert operations, just smiled at the audaciousness of his friend. He walked over to stand beside Prian.
“The old Wolf lives, huh? I never doubted it. When we abandoned our pass and retreated, we saw no signs of your team.” Davih prompted.
“We had to abandon into the mountains when the most southern pass failed. It was that or be surrounded from behind. We fled up the mountain pass and found a place to hold until the Thoiri found us and took us into their dwelling.” Prian explained to Davih.
“Fascinating. To know they have lived in those mountains for a thousand years. I would like to meet them, if we win this,” Davih mused.
“They are at war themselves. They fight deep underground against a fiend that has been assaulting their dwellings for many years. The captain has pledged us against their foe when the siege at Kitsu is lifted.” Prian said, just a little too loud.
“Has he now?” Major Corbin asked with a raised eye. “I didn’t know captains could promise their teams in service of others.”
“I..uh…I wouldn’t speak for the captain…” Prian stuttered under the man’s intense glare.
“I am joking, corporal. Alton has earned my trust a hundred times over. If he feels like that is the correct move, I would not gainsay him.” Major Corbin said with a laugh and clapped Prian on the shoulder.
The major returned to his pouring over the maps. Prian looked sideways at Davih and asked in a low voice. “Sir..I expected more,” he searched for the right word “resistance?”
“Hah. Half the people in this room owe Alton their life in one way or the other. He fights with a purpose not seen in this country in a millennium. Were there one man I would trust implicitly with my life, and mind you, I have, it is him. Our forces are not prepared to outlast a siege here. The First and Second army are still committed in their respective valleys and can’t send help. Breaking out here and taking the offensive is a sound course of action.” Davih replied, loud and confident, uncaring of who heard.
Together, they refined the assault plan, incorporating the strengths and specialties of each unit and leader. The discussion was meticulous, covering every angle and potential countermove the Edorians might employ. Prian just soaked in the knowledge on display in the room. The commitment to detail reflected his understanding that the upcoming battle is not just about breaking the siege, but also about turning the tide of the war.
As the meeting concluded, the room was filled with a renewed sense of determination. The plan set before them is ambitious, risky, and requires flawless execution. Yet, the unity and resolve present in the command room of Fort Kitsu signifies a collective will to fight for their homeland, to push back against the invading forces, and to reclaim the future of their nation. It swelled Prian’s heart and gave him the confidence he had been lacking.
---
In the rugged, makeshift camp nestled among the hills outside Kitsu, Alton paced restlessly. Sleep evaded him tonight, the upcoming battle rattling his nerves. His mind was a whirlwind of tactics and uncertainties. The recent raids bolstered their spirits, yet the overwhelming presence of the Edorian forces in the valley below loomed large in his thoughts.
His reverie was broken by the sound of footsteps. Alton knew that if he heard Thuklu approaching, the man wanted him too. He grinned and reached out his hand to exchange forearms with the Thuklu scoutmaster. The old tribesmen gripped his forearm in return and shared a smile.
"The Thoiri send word to other tribes before we leave Thornwur," Thuklu announced. “Not tell you, not sure if they listen,” he shrugged at Alton’s unasked question that was written on his face.
"And?" Alton prompted.
"The surface armies of the other tribes will join us," Thuklu continued. “They agree to fight. Join us on day of battle from other side of valley. They good fighters, strong, mana. Not commit army underground like Thoiri.”
The news brought Alton’s thoughts to a complete stop. Hope flickered in his chest. "How many?" he asked.
"Many thousand," Thuklu responded with his signature nonchalance tone.
Alton absorbed the information, the gears turning as he considered the implications. The addition of a few thousand Thoiri warriors, perhaps even more, could significantly shift the balance of power in their favor. It was a surge of strength that could very well turn the tide of the upcoming battle, offering a glimmer of hope where there was once only a grim determination.
"Thank the Thoiri elders for their support," Alton says after a moment, his voice steady with newfound resolve. "This changes things. With their help, we might just have a fighting chance."
Thuklu nods, "the Thoiri stand with Agorra, Alton. What was once, will be again.”
Thuklu departed, and Alton resumed his pacing on the ridge. His gaze was drawn to the Edorian camp, and he played over the upcoming battle in his mind. Wolf Company would lead an assault from the rear, while Kitsu lead a full frontal assault. If the tribes attacked unexpectedly from the west, the Edorian commander would be surrounded and forced to fight on all sides.
Alton sent his mind deep into his core. The sigil pulsated softly and Alton knew instinctively that it was ready for use again. He reached for the aspect that had granted him strength so often of late, but no connection formed this time.
“I will need you again, before this is done.” He said to himself.
Alton gazed far past the upcoming valley, all the way to the Mad God’s mountain. He couldn’t see it from here, but every Agorran knew which way to look for it. Gazing in its direction brought solace to his mind. He said a soft prayer and felt a chill creep up his spine. Dawn was a short time away and, with it, an end or a beginning.
---
“Oh Mad God, whose tempest roars untamed,
Lend us the Wolf's fierce cry, unchained.
Within the whirl of chaos, our kin we find,
Bestow upon us the wisdom to outwit, outshine.
Under the watchful moon, our souls alight,
Gift us bravery against the shrouding night.
On our quest for verity, through realms unknown,
Shape our resolve, as our spirits are honed.
Navigate us through your tempest, let not our thoughts fray,
In turmoil's embrace, grant us the light of day.
In the wilderness, where shadows linger and sway,
Fortify us with your might, O Mad God, we pray.
In this realm of peril and shadows profound,
Encircle us with your guardianship, let it abound.
As wolves cast in your venerable mold, we bow,
Oh Mad God, endow us with your fortitude now.”