Being a lieutenant sucks.

I’d become a lieutenant a few years ago, and since the Macedonia was the way it was I’m going to stay a lieutenant for a few more. You didn’t last long in the army without being a bit paranoid and it made the higher ups as defensive as angry vipers. Unless they absolutely trusted you they were going to make sure you didn’t get any sort of promotion.

That is why I’m stuck in what has to be the most frustrating rank in the Macedonian army. Being a lieutenant means being stuck between the worst of the middle management and the worst of the troops.

The higher ups expect you to keep the sergeants, corporals, and privates disciplined. To them that means controlling the soldiers like marionettes. They somehow expect perfect results from me, but nearly fifty resentful, unmotivated, conniving, borderline rebellious soldiers do not herd well. Telling them how they should think and act makes things worse more often than it helps, and manipulating them is just as fruitless.

Of course the biggest reason for that is because the soldiers you command don’t just hate your guts, they hate the captain’s guts, the major’s guts, the colonel’s guts, and the general’s guts. The problem is they only deal with you. You give them the higher up’s orders. You become the target of hate by proxy, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The captains and the majors usually steal credit of any success you manage to attain, and any failure falls squarely on your shoulders. A big enough failure, or just too many in a row, will get you executed or demoted. Of course a demotion can be bad as as any gibbet. Being on a chaotic battlefield surrounded by soldiers who remember every wrong you committed against them... Well, that has only one result.

Sure, privates and corporals have a greater fatality rate, but things aren’t nearly as messy down there. Sometimes I wonder if other armies have to deal with this mess. I know that the culture of constant whistleblowing and backstabbing that happens in Macedor isn’t something that exists everywhere. I’m not going to say my real opinions though.

I’ll smile and agree when someone makes a speech about the evils and corruption of the outside world, I’ll even make my own comments about how wonderful and flawless our country is. I know better of course, but I also know what happens to anyone who lets slip that they do know better.

Even with the broken mess of a job being a lieutenant is, I’ve managed to stay on top of things. I know my job, and how to avoid getting killed doing it. I’ve been in the army for most of my life, and until today I thought I had seen it all.

This was supposed to be easy. Guerrilla fighting aside, the elves don’t have a proper army. Sure, the bees mean that no one has been able to take advantage of that, but that isn’t a factor anymore. With the repellant we can march right up to their nests and urinate on them without being stung. There’s enough to travel anywhere in the forest too. They don’t stand a chance.

No one said anything about invisible demons.

We lost over a fifth of the foot soldiers to some horrible shrieking attacker. Rumors were flying faster than they could be squashed. No one knew what it was. Some were claiming it was a cursed blade that needs no wielder. Others said it was a demon called from another world to destroy us. A few idiots argued that it was just a magic beast sent by the elves, but that’s just stupid. There’s no way a magic beast could do the things it has done.

This is an army; we were fully equipped, trained, and several thousand strong. And yet, in a day we have been reduced to a mob of twitchy, cowering children in soldier’s clothes. What happened to discipline? ...No, expecting the soldiers to be calm when they could lose their heads to ‘the Shriek’ is too much.

You saw this happen occasionally. A soldier would go into battle and come out without any injuries ...but still be broken. Sometimes it was newbies, but sometimes it was a fellow soldier that had been by your side for years. You just had to hope it didn’t happen to you, even if in your heart you knew it already had.

The problem was that the mood was spreading. If this kept up the whole army was going to rout before we stepped into the forest. The general’s earlier orders to keep marching haven’t helped matters either.

The captain has been breathing down my neck to keep the men under control, but how was I supposed to do that? Even I wanted to dive in the mud when that unholy sound started. At least I hadn’t wet myself like he had.

I was forced to throw out threats and ultimatums left and right to shut everyone up. I got a few looks from the soldiers when I did. I couldn’t help but get the premonition that I was going to die next time we faced the elves in the coming battles. ...Probably by getting shot in the back with a Macedonian crossbow.

This whole invasion was already basically ruined and we hadn’t even started properly. A good lieutenant doesn’t say anything though, so I need to do my best reassuring the higher ups and helping the sergeants corral my platoon. That was the problem with being a lieutenant; no matter what, you got caught in the middle.

Honestly, no matter how little you trusted the idi- men in charge, this was supposed to be a cakewalk. The point-ears don’t even have a proper army. Sure the bees in that forest are dangerous, but once we have a knife to the right elves’ throats the place will belong to Macedor.

I know the glorious leader, his father, and his father’s father have wanted to own that treasure trove since forever. The ‘history’ lessons of the country claim that the forest, and most of the surrounding countries, belong to us by birthright. It doesn’t add up, but I like living, so all hail the eternal kingdom of Macedor or whatever.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The history doesn’t matter though. The forest is an easy target now.

Normally I feel a tiny inner sneer when I heard the speech about how easily we would sweep over our enemies and claim our ‘rightful riches’ from them. Normally, ‘sweeping over our enemies’ means that a lot of us are going to die, and there’s no guarantees of success either. Of course, if you’re dumb enough to mention something like that and you deserve what they do to you.

Even so, This should have been just about the easiest invasion ever. The only simpler ones were the unofficial raids on villages near our border. This one would be even better. It would be profitable and good for propaganda. There would be chances for promotions and a better class of loot.

Of course, all that was ruined by the mass decapitations.

There’s no way to fight something like this. If it weren’t for the fact that the attacks occurred on the far end of the formation I might be like the captain right now; muttering and smelling of urine. The higher ups are hiding among the calvary. They don’t even care how little dignity they had, they just don’t want to be added to the list of casualties.

The way it started out so faint was the worst part. It was so faint that you found yourself straining your ears to hear it. I caught myself twitching at every breeze. I wasn’t even the worst off. Plenty of people were ducking every time someone coughs.

I’ve been a soldier for what feels like all my life. I’m no stranger to death. This is different though. There’s no way to fight back… How do you kill something that doesn’t have a form?

This couldn’t be called an indisputable victory anymore. Even if whatever carved up our army like a turkey doesn’t attack on the return trip, even if the elves don’t kill a single soldier. When we go home, the troops will spread rumors that will turn any propaganda about mighty victories into so much hot air.

I was being pressured by my superiors to work miracles right now. Aside from the threat of the Shriek, they knew that when they came home they could lose their heads as well. Failure wasn’t tolerated by the glorious leader.

Morale aside, it was getting late. The sun had set and we needed to get some rest. Right now the higher ups were engaged in an argument about where to set up camp. The original plan had been to camp outside the forest. The elves wouldn’t dare leave their precious forest to attack us, so we could get a proper rest. The problem was we hadn’t counted on some unholy screeching abomination attacking us while we were in the prairie.

Eventually they decided to gamble on the foreigner’s claim of being ready for the Shriek this time. None of them trusted him, but he managed to win them over. His arguments were simple and manipulative. The Shriek only attacked us during the day, which he asserted meant that we were safe at night. The bees aren’t active at night and the Shriek was probably the same. Even if that wasn’t true, the troops wouldn’t be moving and he would be in a position to intercept the attack.

The logic was idiotic. It was full of assumptions and guesswork. I could tell the only reason the mercenary made those claims was for another chance at fighting the Shriek, if it even could be fought. Regardless, the general and his lackeys were scared, panicking, and grasping at straws. They desperately wanted to believe the foreigner’s words, so they didn’t stop to question it.

I’ll admit being attacked by the Shriek and the elves’ forces at the same time would be an even worse nightmare, but this was just sloppy leadership.

I’ll admit if the mercenary can kill the Shriek we’ll be much better off, and honestly he’s the only one here who has a chance. The xenophobes that rule the country wouldn’t have been willing to hire him if he wasn’t as good as he was.

Officially, he wasn’t here. Unofficially, he was being paid quite a bit to help deal with the elves’ strongest. A bit of hypocrisy on our governments part. Despite our claims at heaven sent power, we need the services of mercenaries occasionally. You don’t question it if you want to keep your head.

The general was taking advantage of the mercenary’s presence, spreading rumors about the foreigner in hopes of raising morale. That and his claims that the Shriek wouldn’t attack at night or follow us into the forest were the only thing keeping the soldiers from routing.

It mostly worked. People weren’t going to sleep soundly, but they were going to make camp and lay out their bedrolls without rebelling and scattering like sheep. The fact that most of them were hiding under their blankets like scared children was just something we were going to have to live with.

I had slept in some terrible places. Storms, harsh winters, boiling summers, bloody battlefields, I had managed to rest in them all. Of course, they usually didn’t have the threat of death hanging over my head like today.

I still managed to sleep, even if it wasn’t a restful sleep. Every once in a while the sounds of someone startled awake by their own nightmares woke me up too, but I couldn’t really get angry about it.

It wasn’t like I wasn’t having my own nightmares. Every time I managed to slip into a deeper sleep I had a dream of my head flying off and bouncing across the battlefield. I was still alive and I watched my headless body marching off into the distance. Ranks and ranks of headless soldiers marched in formation. Headless knights riding headless horses marched past. The dream was so vivid that I could smell the blood.

When morning came, the screams of horror woke everyone up. At first I thought it was more people having nightmares. Then the screams spread. People scrabble for their weapons and jumped to their feet. The Shriek had attacked during the night.

The captains and other lieutenants were screaming orders, the majors and general were nowhere to be found, and I caught a glance of the foreigner leaping over the crowd towards the commotion. When I finally ran to the source of the first screams and saw the blood I felt like my own blood had turned to ice water.

It was the horses; they had been decapitated. Every single one, from the general’s personal war horse to the least pack animal, had its head removed and was lying in a pool of its own blood.

A full four hundred war horses dead… This was far worse than the losses we had until now. A well trained war horse was worth at least two or three foot soldiers. And that was just the normal ones. Big Red, the general’s horse, was descended from the famous war horse Secretariat; it was worth at least ten times that of a normal war horse.

The cavalry of any army is its backbone and greatest destructive force. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that a powerful cavalry can raise the military power of a country better than an extra powerhouse. Of course, the requirements for raising mounted knights is not cheap.

A skilled knight is harder to train than a simple conscript. They and the best archers are instructed from when they are old enough to hold a weapon. It took well over a decade before they were considered ready. After that, they needed incredibly expensive equipment. Swords and lances aside, a full set of plate armor couldn’t be made by any old blacksmith. A shoddy set of armor was fine for a conscript or a mercenary, but knights only wore the best.

The full plate of a knight is light and doesn’t hinder the wearer’s movements, but it is nigh impenetrable by normal means. A fully equipped knight is a walking fortress. However, they are many times more effective on horseback.

Not just any horse can be used. Aside from power, speed, and stamina, they need to be well trained and have a suitable disposition. A rebellious horse or one that got frightened at the sounds and sights of battle was useless.

A horse with the proper lineage was head and shoulders above other horses, often literally. They were strong and fast, and they didn’t shy from the painful and noisy battlefield. Once they were trained properly they and their rider acted like a single organism, moving together as one.

All that weight and power added together, charging across the battlefield… What could match it? Without pikemen an army ten times larger would be trampled like wheat on a threshing floor.

And now the corpses of four hundred horses were lying on the blood soaked ground. I was right, heads were going to roll. Even if the leaders had expected the loss of a few of the horses in the close confines of the forest, this was inexcusable.

The foreigner had been on the far side of the army and the wind had blown the scent of blood away from him and the rest of the troops. The few who smelled traces of it, like me, hadn’t made the connection and kept sleeping.

We still didn’t know what did this, but as I listened to the infuriated general shouting orders, I knew that this wasn’t the last we had seen of the Shriek. This action, the silent attack on the horses rather than the men… This was no force of nature.

And now we had to enter the forest...