XI

Adrian leaned back, straining as he pulled his fingers and dug deep in the rotting wood. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl as he put more effort into it, his thighs protesting and the tendons of his forearms on fire as he attempted to rip the timber off by sheer force alone. Two other men aided in the task, one a shorter man whose face was scarred and pockmarked from some childhood disease and a tall and lanky youth who had a rope of long blond hair.

Henry and Jacob, or as the rest of the men liked to call them Pocked and Nan. The explanation for Henry’s nickname was pretty straightforward, but the reason they called the tall lanky youth Nan was a little more of a story, something about one of the men calling him Nancyboy before Jacob had attacked him like a wild alleycat and shoved a few of the man’s teeth down his throat, after that people said he fought really well for a Nancyboy and it just stuck.

“On three!” Adrian grunted, letting the beam lay back against the wall for a second as he and the three others caught their breath and prepped for another heave. “One,” he dug his fingers in once again, “Two!” he tightened his grip and tensed his leg muscles. “THREE!”

The beam didn't so much as budge and with a snarl Adrian let go of it stepping back hands on his hips panting and cursing at the rotting timber. For something that fell apart at the slightest provocation, it was particularly stubborn at this moment. “Stand back lads,” Adrian said as he flipped the top off of his leather reagent box. He didn't have to lick his fingers to get them wet this time, they were already damp with sweat so he simply opened the two small flaps inside that held the regents he needed and thrust his fingers down into the powder. His hand came free of the box and the lids slipped back into place and he looked at the hand in front of him. His index finger was truncated right at the middle joint the middle finger next to it was missing the last section above the joint. Normally a mage used those two fingers to coat their skin in reagents. Adrian however found it easier to use his truncated middle finger which was shorter than his full-sized ring finger finger by a small distance and the aforementioned ring finger.

He looked at the two powder-coated digits and then at the wood and focused. The powder evaporated off of his skin as though it had never been there and as he laid his hand on the beam of wood it wrenched itself off of the wall with a great splintering sound before quickly making its way toward the ground causing Adrian and the two other men to dance out of the way as it hit and turned into so many bits of kindling. Adrian coughed as he waved away the cloud of dust they had just made and he put his hand on his waist looking back up at the sky as he sucked in great lungfuls of air, the sweat cascading off of his body. He had long ago discarded his overcoat and the armored chest plate along with everything else he could, leaving him in a simple white shirt, his cavalry pants, held up by suspenders, and his boots. The shirt had been practically opened to the last button and he found he could not take even that at this moment. Reaching down he undid the last of the buttons and shrugged off the straps before peeling off the shirt that had at one point in time been white but now was stained yellow with sweat. He dropped the shirt not really caring where it went when he became aware of a lack of sound going on around him.

He opened his eyes and looked at the men who had up to this point been doing as he and Pocked and Nan were, tearing down old beams and replacing the timbers with new fresh-cut ones. As he looked around he noticed that almost every eye was on him, or rather on his back. Residing there were scars, ropy long things that covered him from shoulder to hip, the raised grooves a lighter color than the few unscarred patches of skin that could be seen on his back. He realized then that they had never seen him without a shirt, never seen his scars. “What?” he called out to all of them, the sound of his voice loud and breaking them out of their reveries. “You never saw a man with scars before?” he barked out laughing. “Back to work you sorry lot, we can't be having the Kurtz catch us with our pants down or all of your backs will be as smooth as mine!”

“You heard the commander!” Torin shouted. “Back to work with you!” There was a series of good-natured grumbles and complaints as the men did as they were bid. The complaining made Adrian smile, soldiers were soldiers, and one thing you could always count on with a soldier was that they would complain and moan about any duties they were tasked with. If they were not complaining then it was likely there were some morale issues. Adrian nodded his head in satisfaction as he watched the men and was about to resume his own work when Torin spoke up again. “Um, sir,” there was a note of hesitation in the voice that Adrian had never seen before and Torin was holding himself rigid as though he was worried about being reproached for asking a question.

“Yes, Torin?” Adrian asked, grabbing his shirt up out of the dirt and using it to wipe his face and chest off before turning to look at the man fully. “How can I help you?”

“Well if you don't mind, can you, that is, could you-” he looked at the upraised eyebrow on Adrian's face and then squared his shoulders and plowed on. ”Your wife, none of the rest of us know that tongue of hers, and the men would much rather have her not doing work the way she is currently.” Adrian’s face darkened slightly and Torin held up his hands in front of him in surrender. “Sorry sir didn't mean to be rude,” he said but Adrian didn't respond, simply hanging his shirt over his shoulder and walking past the group of men that had assembled to talk to him.

“You obviously don’t know Isi that well,” he laughed from over his shoulder, “she does as she pleases whether I want her to or not, and she knows exactly what you are saying,” he glanced over his shoulder at a now frustrated and slightly embarrassed looking Torin. “Let me guess, you attempted to communicate with her by acting out things and gesturing.”

“Yes sir,” he grimaced.

“I'm sure she found it rather hilarious,” Adrian laughed “Come on, let's go see if I can persuade her,” it didn't take long for them to spot her. She had discarded the overly intricate outfit that she had worn in Helheim, opting instead to wear the uniform of an officer, the same uniform he was wearing. In fact, now that he looked at it he was pretty sure she was wearing one of his spare sets. Her white shirt was just like his but cinched around her midriff with a leather corset that she had taken a liking to, and honestly, it was probably a good thing she wore it, as like every other person in this godforsaken swamp she was sweating tons. The obvious result was a shirt plastered in rather interesting ways against her skin. The only thing that saved her modesty was the corset. It was one of the patterns that covered her from mid-chest down to waistline. As he watched she jammed the blade of the shovel into the earth and kicked it with the heel of her boot, driving the blade down into the earth, with a practiced ease that only came with experience. “What appears to be the problem?” Adrian asked turning towards Torin.

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“Sir, several of the men don't feel an officer’s wife should be doing work like this,” Torin said.

“I see,” Adrian nodded. “In that case, we had best get this handled, after all, if the ditch is dug then Isi won’t need to do any more digging right?” Smiling he worked his way over to her and grabbed the shovel out of another man’s hand and began shoveling beside her. She spared a glance up at him and smiled before continuing her work. Torin looked at the two of them as they toiled side by side and shook his head before heading off to make sure the men were doing what they should.

***

In the past three months, not only the fort but also the four hundred men stationed at it had made quite a turnaround, it was amazing what a pair of four hundred hands could do when they all worked together for the same goal. The fort had changed, old rotten timbers replaced with new, walls straightened, the old dilapidated buildings torn down and replaced, and a proper barracks built. They had even begun making clay which they used to cover the exterior walls with, it hardened and baked after being applied to the surface the moisture soaked out of it by the relentless sun that seemed to gaze down angrily at all times in the day. The fort’s walls wouldn't stop a determined artillery strike, but between the inner and outer walls and the dirt and rockfill between them it would stop a 20 or 30-pounder cannonball, and it would stop canister and grapeshot as well as musket balls. They had a fourth of the walls covered and at the rate they were going the fort would be done in a week or two. The men were progressing faster than the fort. They had all gone through the same basic training as all fighting men of Helheim, like any soldier if the hand that held the reign slackened, so too would the men. He was quite pleased with how his men were shaping up.

There were also around a hundred men and women, who had followed them away from one town or another, and now they had a vast tent city set up with seemingly no order to it in a dry spot a good thousand feet away from the fort and to the side so as to not get in the way of the men’s operations. The inhabitants consisted of tradesmen who brought their wares to sell to the soldiers, laundresses, and a good deal of women who plyed a less than seemly trade and with which his men were more than willing to part with some of their hard-earned coin. There was even a sort of makeshift pub that one man had set up, it was easy to pick out as it had its own somewhat fenced-off courtyard made of logs and crates, which doubled as seats and the large wagon loads of Ale and Beer that seemed to come in every other day.

“Riders approaching!” A shout went up from a sentry and Adrian looked up. The man was perched atop a newly built scaffolding that was serving as a temporary forward lookout, he held the barrel of his musket the buttstock resting against the wooden planks of his platform, one hand cupped around his mouth to allow the shout to go farther.

“Let's see what this is all about,” Adrian muttered as he pulled himself out of the pit he had been digging and reached down to grab Isi’s outstretched arm, hauling her up and out. “You there, Milton right?” he pointed to the first man he saw, he didn't know them all but he was attempting to get to know them. 400 men, however, was a lot of men to learn the names of.

“Altroni Sir,” the man responded, wiping a bead of sweat off of his brow.

“Sorry, Altroni, you are to relieve that watchman of his post and send him down here to report.” Adrian said, “You soldier,” he didn't even try to guess this one’s name, “Go fetch Hand Torin,” he pointed to a third one “And you,” he pointed at a third, “Go to my tent and retrieve a new shirt, and one of my uniform jackets preferably not the dress uniform one, ” he glanced at Isi who was standing there, her tanned skin showing through the white shirt much too easily.”Make it two jackets, and do it quickly.” All three of them snapped a salute and then hurried off to do the tasks he had assigned to them.

The lookout sentry was the first to report in, he ran over and saluted Adrian his hand splayed over his chest. “Sir!”

“Report,” Adrian ordered, looking the man over. He was like every other man in this cursed swamp covered in sweat even if he did not have to be digging or tearing up the fort’s unusable beams and replacing them. Adrian had the men on a rotating schedule, one day of manual labor, one day of sentry duty, and then a day off after meal duty was over, allowing the men to relax a good third of their time.

“Sir, there is a group of four riding towards us, they have light packs so I would say there is a larger company of them behind as they are not outfitted for long journeys.” Adrian looked the man in the eyes and noted that he was much more worried than he should be. “Sir it was too far out to see the color of their uniforms,” the man hesitated.

“Speak soldier,” Adrian practically growled.

“I am not sure, something just seemed off, I-” he hesitated again, “It might be a trick of the light but I thought I saw white sir..”

Kurtz…

White, it was the uniform color of the Kurtz army, that empire’s loyalists and propagandists liked to say it was for the purity of the country, the emperor’s rule, and the righteousness of the cause, but that was all just bullshit, the actuality of it was that Kurtz was vast, far more vast than Helheim and had more than four times the amount of troops, the emperor in all his righteousness had decided quantity was better than quality, and his troops were outfitted in undyed wools with mass-produced half plate and helms. While the armor did little against voltlocks it would protect them decently well when the fighting inevitably turned to melee.

“Alright, back to your post soldier, and keep Altroni up there to relay any information you see back to me.” Adrian glanced around, seeing that everyone in his vicinity had stopped working. “Alright you lot, we will call that good for the day, everyone file back into the fort and get your kit on,” people started filing out and back into the fort barracks. “Report to your field officers in fifteen!” That caused them to hustle.

His Hand showed up next, followed by the man he had sent to fetch clothes, Torin had also decided to grab his armor as well as a spare set for Isi. “So, here is what we know,” Adrian said, turning towards Torin as he shrugged into the overcoat after slipping into a new shirt. His fingers deftly buttoned up the front without looking. “I need you to recall the men into the fort, set a full company on the wall, and set up for a defensive movement,” he said, snatching the second coat and helping Isi into it, it was much too long for her, the cuffs of the jacket almost swallowing her hands whole and the hem practically dragging on the ground. “Once that is done send word to the civilians and send a runner to the woodcutters letting them know what is happening.” He grabbed the armor from the man’s hands and started buckling it on. As soon as his was on, he started helping Isi into hers.

“Sir?” Torin asked, looking at him confused. “Do we even know who is coming? It could be a messenger or-”

“Torin, have we gotten word from our patrols?” Adrian asked as he cinched the side straps of Isi’s breastplate tighter.

“We have had reports coming in all day, but nothing about a force of any size,” he said.

“How often do the reports come?”

“Every three hours sir,” he responded, “The last was no more than an hour ago.”

“I want a company mobilized in five minutes, get them fully geared, armored, and prepared to follow me, I also want a group of scouts several if we can spare them to attempt to find out the size and location of the force these men come from,” Adrain looked at him, “if it is just a messenger we will look good, as we are in a prepared state, if it is not… ” he looked around, “crossing a border without authorization and escort is an act of war, now,” his eyes snapped back to Torin, “let’s get ready to go meet our guests...”