XV

Adrian sighed as he leaned back against the tree he was currently using for a backrest, his eyes closing for the briefest of seconds before he forced them open. They had been doing this for almost five days straight, harassing the enemy to the best of their ability. Hitting squads of foragers and scouts with ambushes and chokepoints. The men had begun to call it their shadow war. The full four hundred men would have been too many to use in strike forces, enemy scouts would see a troop that large long before they could do the damage they needed to. Therefore, most of the men helped the volunteers of Bronsville dig redoubts and fallback locations and rotated in to help relieve those on the front. This meant that at any one given time, Adrian had fifty men to use in the ambushes, a number small enough that he could position and move it quicker than the enemy could respond to but also large enough to inflict a good amount of damage when they did strike.

Each man was double provisioned with both food and water as well as ammunition and guns. Pistols which were not standard military issue had been distributed to every man, most of them had been donated by the citizens of Bronsville, and at Adrian’s orders, each man carried a Helheim-made gun and at the very least a dirk when there were not enough cavalry swords to go around.

The result was a group of fifty men who had either enough skill to survive this hit-and-run warfare or enough experience, armed to the teeth with more weaponry than any three men in a normal regiment. The men had started to call themselves the marked men. That was a bit of dark humor, both because Isi had seen fit to paint them all with savage symbols and also because they knew their time on this earth was limited.

He looked at the small smokeless fire that sat in the center of the makeshift camp, several cast iron pots simply sat there, filled with water and thrust into the fire. Those pots were always there after they returned from an engagement, and contrary to Isi’s first thought they were not for tea, although he and his men would have gladly killed for a good cup of tea right then. Adrian watched as Isi went about cleaning her rifle, she had started to take a liking to the weapon, and she had even started carving notches in the buttstock of the musket for every man she had killed with it, had she been doing that for every man she had killed in general then there wouldn't be a single unmarred piece of wood on the gun. As it was a good third of the gun’s butt was carved with tally marks. She dipped a rag into the water and began to wipe away the powder residue that had built up on the steel barrel carefully. She then grabbed a twig and used one small part of it to plug the vent hole, making sure there would be no way for the water to escape, it was harder to pour the water down the barrel while holding the musket upright however, she attempted to do it and simply poured the scalding water over her hand, causing her to curse in her own language. Isi’s eyes flared purple and the red patches on her hands vanished. Adrian had long ago stopped asking why sometimes she would heal herself and other times, like in the camp, she hadn't, there were only so many times he could hear her say her equivalent of “because.”

He walked over and grabbed the gun, holding it upright with the butt of it to the ground as she had. She looked over and smiled at him, using two hands she poured the scalding liquid down the tube. She covered the top of the barrel with the cloth, picked up the heavy musket, and began shaking it up and down, stopping after a minute or so before dumping it out.

The blackest water one could find anywhere poured out, smelling of sulfur. He helped her do this three more times, taking over the shaking of the musket until she was satisfied with the clearness of the water.

She flipped it over to allow the water that was left over to drip out and placed it on a rock so the muzzle was not in the dirt. She then grabbed some ashes from the fire, making sure to only get it from the cooler side so as to not burn her hands, placing them in her rag she spit in them and held the rag out to Adrian, who looked at her and then at the rag, but he spit in the pile of ashes all the same.

With a slight smile, she used the ashes and spit as an abrasive cleaner to scour away any rust that had collected on the outside of the musket and to polish it to a fine sheen. Adrian would have preferred vinegar to mix with the ashes for his soldiers, but one could only work with what they had, so spit-shining it was.

“Sir,” Adrian glanced over to see Torin come running up, his face set straight.

“Torin, I thought we agreed to use our first names with each other when not in diplomatic or command situations.”

“No sir, we agreed to no such thing you just told me we were going to and then started it,” Torin narrowed his eyes at Adrian. “Much like when I told you it was not wise to use a commanding officer as bait and you simply decided my council meant very little to you, you seem quite adept at not listening to me.” he snapped his arms across his chest and glared at him.

“And if I were to command it?” Adrian asked with a smile pulling at his lips, fighting for dominance over the scowl he had forced onto his face.

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“You can command it however so long as it is not against regulations you cannot enforce it,” Torin didn't look very happy at the moment, he looked like he had just swallowed something sour. “Besides sir, even if I did wish to follow that order it would not cover this moment as I am here because of this,” he reached into his jacket and pulled out a crisp-looking white envelope that he handed over to Adrian. Once in his hands, Adrian flipped it over and looked at the seal that had been pressed into the paper. It was the mark of an eagle in flight, one Talon clutching a Helheim Flag that streamed behind it.

“Ah, I see my father sends his love,” Adrian said as he pulled out his belt knife and slid it under the wax seal. As he read, Adrian’s face fell.

“No more troops sir?” Torin asked, it was clear that he was currently fearing the worst. If they were indeed going to receive no more troops then the fact of the matter was this front was lost. meaning Kurtz would have an open avenue to press into Helheim, and based on military strength and size alone Helheim would not survive the engagement. The main reason they were not a part of the Kurtz empire thus far was that there were so few ways into the country that an army could march.

Though if you were to ask Adrian this was one of those locations where it would be next to impossible to sustain a campaign from, there was no way you could get mass cavalry across this swamp, nor artillery or even small field cannon except for by the small road leading through the swamp. It was only wide enough for two men to ride abreast or three to comfortably walk, the time needed to move a significant force down the road would be infeasible for a campaign as it would give the Helheim army time to reposition and set up redoubts. It was only practical for a few regiments of men, an invasion force that would undoubtedly be crushed by the superiorly armed and positioned Helheim defenders even if they took this front away from Helheim. This is what worried Adrian, the Kurtz commanders weren't stupid, they would also know this, which meant there was some sort of plan.

He just wished he knew that plan, why was it that almost half of the Kurtz linemen were army engineers? Why were they building four massive circular wooden platforms? Why were they at least 600 feet in diameter each, with each of them being exactly the same as the others, he couldn't help but feel as though he was not going to like what they were planning. Kurtz was not operating by any rules he knew and that fact more than anything else had him worried.

And now he had to deal with this shit...

“Oh no, we are indeed getting more troops, plenty more, I would go so far as to say we are about to turn this swamp into a full-fledged battlefield, the issue is of a more personal matter.” he looked at the man standing in front of him and ground his teeth, so that was how his father was going to play it was he? Very well then, two could play at this game… “Hand!” Torin snapped to attention.

“Yessir!” he said, thumping his hand against his chest in a salute.

“Send a rider to the refugees, recall our men, and inform the civilians that this area is going to be a war front, if needs be press them into service as washerwomen and the likes, tailors, seamstresses, the whole nine yards, we will need a good deal of camp followers to smooth this process over, offer incentives, those that still refuse then let them continue but pull the men back, they are far enough out of the line of fire that they will have to make due without our protection.” he tossed the paper into the fire and watched with a sort of grim satisfaction as the red wax started to melt and the eagle that had once looked so proud drooped like it was tired and worn before losing its form altogether and running down a charred log like a rivulet of flaming crimson. “We will be getting a number of companies of men placed under our control, and I want this to be as smooth as possible,” he grimaced. “Around a thousand men are to be placed under me, and we are to be receiving another fist of two thousand under the command of Lady Emilia,” he shook his head, “sorry, of Commander Emilia.” A small smile crept onto Adrian’s face, and why not? It was exactly what Adrian would have done in his father’s place, it would seem as though the apple does not fall very far from the tree. he looked over at Torin, “I want it to be understood that the men here are under my direct command, all of our men are to answer to me and only me, is that understood?”

“Yessir, permission to ask a question, sir?”

“Granted,” Adrian nodded to him.

“Should we expect trouble from this new Commander, sir?”

“Yes and no, Hand, you are not to repeat this to anyone,” he glared at the man, “ am I clear?“

“Yessir, perfectly,” he answered.

“Good,” Adrian nodded “Then yes, you should expect trouble, Lady Emilia is a competent commander but we have a history together, and it might cause issues between conflicting orders, my men are to prioritize my order and none other,” Adrian sighed and leaned back against the tree. “She will want to impress my father, it is one of the constants about the woman, she will, therefore, attempt to make this a traditional war.”

“A traditional war sir? Here in the swamps where a man couldn't hold a formation to save his life? Against a force that even after reinforcements will still outnumber us two to one?”

“Yes, she was always the blunt instrument type,” Adrian said. “She will attempt to form us up into regimental companies and march us across the swamps, but as we know that will not work.”

“Yessir, the Kurtz have shown us that already sir.” Torin agreed, and Adrian nodded his head at that. It was indeed true, the enemy was still operating like the swamp was just another battleground like any other. The actuality was that this swamp, these marshlands was an enemy combatant of its own, fighting for a third party that wanted both Helheim and Kurtz men dead. The trick then was to make the Kurtz empire a more easy target than Helheim, allowing the swamp to swallow the weaker prey.

“Yes, indeed they have,” he nodded. “Hand, call the men together, we are having a meeting, and send another patrol of scouts out to the west. I want to know why they have brought so many bloody engineers with them, and I want to know it before reinforcements arrive...”