Rathos glances back at the enemy while his army retreats.. He studies them, watching for movement or reaction.
But, as he reaches the hill, he finds that the enemy is, as expected, not following. So far, his predictions have been accurate.
He crosses the large hill with his army and reaches the other side where hidden carts are ready and waiting to be boarded by the infantry.
“Rearm Quivers and board the carts. We move in half an hour!”
Rathos bellows and watches the army follow his direction. He looks to Doreson.
“You have questions and now we have time. Speak.”
The [Strategist Captain] clears his throat. “Why did we abandon the hill? Is higher ground not a better position for battle?”
“A hill is indeed a good defensive position, but it is also a static one. They have the option to maneuver or even outright ignore our position. If they ignore us and head to Sanavil, then we will be forced to give up the safety of our defensive location anyway. The only reason I have chosen this hill is to hide our supplies and wagons. If they saw our readiness to relocate and what supplies we had brought, they might not have attempted to rush directly into confrontation. This entire battle was never going to see our infantry fighting.”
Understanding dawns on Doreson, “That’s why you refused to bring [Mages]. They don’t have the range of our bows and their presence was never needed.”
Rathos smiles. “That’s mostly the truth. You are correct that [Mages] would not see combat, but the real reason is that I do not want them to know we have magic casters.”
“As a surprise.”
“Yes,” Rathos affirms. “[Mages], especially high-level ones, are the bane of tight formations. A [Siege Fireball] from a [Fire Mage] could destroy an entire contingent while sending the rest of the army into a panic.“
The Centaur grunts at the explanation. Doreson has seen what mages can do, and it is not hard to imagine the damage that can be done. Still, another thing bothers him though.
“What of the Wyverns? Why not bring them along? I still think they would be useful.”
“They would,” Rathos interjects, “but, as I mentioned before, I lack the experience to properly use them yet. I’ve no skills for aerial units, nor do the wyverns have proper training to be used as such.”
Rathos folds his arms across his chest and lets out a deep breath, “Regardless, I’ve fought this army before. Their [Archers] lack the range of our own by a significant margin. We outrange them and we can easily outmaneuver them. If need be, we can always retreat and regroup.”
Doreson scratches his chin thoughtfully while staring at the army as they talk and prepare to move out. “Do you think they will retreat?”
“What do you think?” Rathos asks.
Doreson nods. “Absolutely. They lost a quarter of their army without even really denting ours. The commander would be a fool to continue this war.”
“Correct. And if they retreat, what is our next plan of action?”
Doreson raises an eyebrow. “Well, to head back to Sanavil and finish constructing the wall. It will take time for them to retrain troops and we can use that time to speed up our defenses.”
Rathos shakes his head. “Doreson, you must not act as though you are hunting monsters. Monsters will run away with a beating, or come back just as quickly as you cull them. Today, we fight an army, a [King]’s army. Good [Soldiers] take more time to train.”
Doreson folds his arms. “So what? We don’t need to rush construction?”
Rathos sighs and points towards the [Archers] resupplying their quivers off the carts. Doreson follows the finger and realizes that the [General] is pointing less at the men, and more at the cart.
“It’s not over,” he whispers as he looks at the sheer number of arrows on the cart. He then looks at the other carts and finds that all are well stocked with ammunition.
______________________________________________________________
“You’re an [Inquisitor]! Can’t you do something? Anything?”
Joseph ignores the [Cleanly King] and stares out the carriage window, watching the army retreat in a dense, shielded cluster. It’s been a common sight for the past two days. Beyond the edge of the army he can see fast-moving specks in the distance. A regiment of mounted [Archers] have been raining arrows on the army for two days straight. The casualties they have inflicted are high, though the rate at which men fall has steadily decreased. The [Infantry] have adapted and are now better prepared for the arrows, with each man holding a shield.
Not that shields are effective when Rathos and the various [Captains] under him use several skills boosting penetration. Sure, some of the retreating [Soldiers] have defensive skills, but how are they to know when the penetration skills are being used? Another ten thousand troops have died during the retreat and a quarter of the remaining army is injured. Over the span of three days, well over half the army has been rendered combat incapable.
“Joseph!”
The [Inquisitor] sighs and looks at the panicking man who fears more for his own life than the lives of his men. Hell, the sniveling [King] would have abandoned his army if it meant escaping with his life.
“With Rathos commanding the army, any attempt I make to attack the [Mounted Archers] would be my death. He could easily use several powerful skills to render my attempt moot before ending me.”
“Then what do I do?” Tersus asks in annoyance. His army is getting dwindled down slowly and they are still two days away from a city.
Joseph shrugs. “Persevere. I doubt he can finish off the rest of your army till you make it to your city. Just like your army, his has not been resting either.”
Tersus leans into his couch and grinds his teeth. He has been bested, thoroughly so. Once he reaches his city, he will reform his army. It doesn’t matter how many years it will take, for he will not tolerate being made a fool. Rathos will learn to regret ever challenging him!
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Joseph watches the paltry man seeth in silence. He doesn’t imagine he’ll need to stay for much longer.
______________________________________________________________
“We’re here,” Dragkenoss yells into the early morning. Rays of morning light stream over the hill of Sanival, lighting the castle with a mystic glow and throwing the new, incipient wall into shadow.
His ears flick as he listens to the sound of the humans in the carriages awakening. They stretch and yawn as they slowly sit and stand up. With a smile on his face, he turns to one of his [Captains].
“Run ahead and tell them we will be arriving within an hour. Have them prepare suitable quarters as well. See if you can have that taken care of by the time we arrive.”
The [Captain] nods and sprints off.
“Dragkenoss, did you say we’re here?”
The [Royal Cataphract Herald] turns his head and gives Nafissa a smile. So far, the [Priestess] had made the return trip much less boring with her constant questions and curiosity.
“Yes. We’ve arrived, though it seems they’ve done a lot of construction since we left. Hmm, I think they even destroyed the original wall.”
Nafissa looks ahead and her mouth drops open. A wall-less city is surrounded by thousands of tents. Past the tents is the beginning of a massive wall. She can already see hundreds of people at work, including many humanoid type bulls. She guesses that those are the Minotaurs Dragkenoss had talked about.
After another hour, she feels the pace pick up. The centaurs have started moving faster all of a sudden.
“What’s wrong?” she asks
Dragkenoss turns his head. His face is a picture of fear and sadness, of loss.
“The army… they left!”
“What?”
Dragkenoss points towards hundreds of empty tents. “The army is gone! A battle? War?”
He sighs and shakes his head. His shoulders drop.
“I missed it.”
________________________________________________________________
Spehon, [Spymaster] of Camelot, touches the ground at the scene. He rubs a piece of the oddly colored dirt between his fingers. Blood, still slightly wet. Whatever crime was committed here was recent.
“Did you find any other signs of fighting nearby?” he asks.
Behind him, the [Guard Captain] answers clearly, “No, [Spymaster]. It seems that the fighting was only here.”
Spehon nods and continues looking at the grizzly scene. Limbs, guts, blood, and everything else that is a part of the human body is strewn throughout the empty lot. At the exits of the clearing, [Guards] keep the general public from seeing the untouched grizzly scene.
“Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what do you make of all this?”
Spehon frowns, “The Assassins Guild attacked a group of...four, no three.”
“[Assassins], here?”
Spehon nods. “Yes, all of the corpses match descriptions of the guild members.”
“So they failed?”
Spehon stands and walks toward a razor sharp wire. He lightly brushes the wire with a finger, and a red drop falls to the ground.
“Failure is an understatement. Three elites and one named, are dead.”
The [Spymaster] chuckles. For over a year, he has been collecting information about the guild, mostly because of their frequent attempts to assassinate Aodean. He already knows the names of all the elites stationed in Camelot.
“Spider is dead, but…” he indicates a corpse missing its entire upper torso. Across the empty square, a circular hole has been bored through a building. When Spehon peered through it previously, he had seen it went straight through a dozen buildings. The origin of whatever caused this seemed to be the armory.
“Sir?”
“Apologies, Gorn. This scene is rather confusing, even to me.”
Gorn snorts. “Well, at least you’re just confused. I have no clue what happened. All I see are corpses, and a shit lot of them too.”
“Twenty seven regular members, three elites, and one named. Three people left the scene, but I count thirty five pairs of feet here.”
“Ummm…”
“There was a summoning. A very deadly and powerful one.”
Sephon frowns. Something about his conclusion seems off, but he can’t seem to place it.
He looks at the walls of the buildings, many of them having been sliced with ease, similar to a [Farmer] cutting wheat… or a high level [Butcher] cutting meat. Other than Spider, this summon killed everyone on its own and then… disappeared? No… Something was wrong here.
“Gorn.”
Gorn looks up quickly, “Sir?”
“Send people to the roofs. Check for bloody footprints, human or otherwise.”
“Yes sir. We have some [Guards] with the [Rogue] class. I can have them here within the hour.”
“You have ten minutes. Get to it.”
Gorn pales. He quickly turns and runs out.
Spehon ignores him. Instead, he continues analysing the battlefield, looking at everything.
“[Sequence of Events].”
His eyes glow as he watches as illusions form and reenact the fight. The details are sketchy. Ghostly images of Spider and the [Assassins] attack three women. A blinding flash of light washes out the phantom scene, and when it fades, Spider is dead, his spectral corpse joining his real one. Then a thing of nightmare, all bone and blade, blinks into the center of the pantomime and just as quickly disappears. The shadows come alive around the [Assassins] and they are cut down one by one in gruesome fashion.
The scene restarts.
He watches the shadow of Spider freeze up. Another shadow falls to its knees. A third moves in a flurry against three others…
It is then there that he notices a difference. He walks towards the area where these four shadows moved.
He bends down, grabs a well-made mithril throwing dagger.
“Elven… Fuck.”
How did they figure it out so fast? Those three just arrived! Damnit.
Spehon turns and sprints out.
“Do not disturb the scene. I will return.” He tells a [Guard] before sprinting full speed to Aodeans home. There may very well be another attack!
_______________________________________________________________
A blinding flash of purple light blazes right outside Rex’s office window. Not a second later, he hears the sounds of crashing and people screaming outside.
Confused and somewhat startled, the man stands from his desk and the mountain of paperwork on top of it and walks to the window.
“Fuck.”
He turns and rushes out his office, down the stairs, and sprints directly towards the armory.
The [Elite Guard] arrives somewhat late. Already a crowd has formed, all staring at the gaping hole of the armory. A hole large enough for a carriage to pass through with ease.
“Move aside, guard coming through. Move, dammit!”
He forces his way through the large crowd, eventually reaching the broken armory wall. Now, he takes it slow as he approaches. The armory wall is capable of withstanding sixth and even seventh tier spells with relative success. But, whatever broke the wall had no trouble doing so.
He swallows and jumps up since the hole is slightly upwards. He lands with a thud and quickly looks around. His train of thought grinds to a halt as he attempts to understand just what exactly he’s had the misfortune to see.
Gun Widow, the undead golem, rests in its standard tank form with its barrel smoking. In front of it, three of his nervous [Guards] sit nearby with cards in their hands.
But, what really confuses Rex is that the [Guards] are mostly naked. Their weapons, armor, and much of their clothing is currently on a pile by Gun Widow.
“WHAT IN THOR'S BLOODY HAMMER IS GOING ON HERE!?”