Stromund reached under the table and hoisted up a small burlap sack. From it he produced a strange steel cylinder and what looked like a bundle of cloth.

“I want to start by saying that what happens at this table, stays at this table. Understood?” Malt nodded his head, curious by the assortment of peculiar objects.

After he received a confirmation from everyone present, he carefully unwrapped the bundle of cloth. After several layers were peeled off, a single glass pebble was revealed. It was vaguely translucent and let of a faint blue glow. It was like nothing Malt had ever seen before.

Henry widened his eyes in disbelief, “Sir, could this be…?”

Stromund nodded, eyes glued to the pebble, “Yeah, it’s a mana stone.”

“Mana stone…?

“Never heard of them, Malt?”

He shook his head, “I’ve learned about mana, I assume it has something to do with that?”

Henry scanned every inch of the object, taking in every detail. By the look on his face, Malt could tell it had to be something amazing.

“Yeah, they’re basically just mana in physical form.” He looked up at Stromund, “Sir, how did you get your hands on one of these? It’s been ages since I’ve seen one, especially of this quality.”

“Remember the old innkeep that gave us that booze a while back? Well, turns out he used to be an adventurer in his heyday.” He reached under the table again and brought up an ornate looking sword.

It was old and rusty, but fine craftsmanship could be seen through the elaborately etched patterns that coated the guard and hilt. Most notably, however, was the absence of a pommel. Where it should’ve been instead lay a nub of broken steel, evidence that it had been broken off rather messily.

“The geezer was nice enough to give us his old enchanted straight sword. It hasn’t held up all that well, but the gem’s still intact.”

Henry looked at the damage sheepishly, cringing a bit. “...was it really okay to ruin such a beautiful piece? I mean, it’s probably his heirloom or something right?”

“Yeah, something along those lines. I bet he’d rather give this up rather than his inn though, so we should be fine using it in any way that’ll help us.”

Malt’s brows furrowed, “Is it some type of energy source?”

“Yeah, people use them to power enchanted weapons. They’re a pretty niche item though, if you can use magic you don’t really need them. Other than adventurers, nobles like putting it in their jewelry.”

Malt raised his brows, impressed. “If it’s worth that much it must be pretty rare, huh?”

Henry nodded enthusiastically. “They only form in places of high mana concentration, you can find them in stronger monsters though.”

Stromund looked at him impressed, “Sounds like you know quite a lot about these things, kid.”

“The village I came from has a stream nearby that produces a few. I remember finding one once, it sold for enough coin to last my family the entire season.”

“I was right to pick you for the job, then.”

Everyone tore their eyes from the stone and back onto Stromund, remembering that they were in a mission briefing.

“It’s common knowledge that mana stones react pretty badly in water. The scholars in the capital chalk it up to mana being released but no one really knows why.”

“Makes a lot of sense...back in my village we only found them because they’d bubble and crackle in the water.”

“The thing even less people know about is that processed mana stones, the ones that get fitted onto weapons and armor, react really badly in water.”

Henry squinted his eyes slightly, “...then how come enchanted weapons don’t just explode in the rain?”

“The few craftsmen that know how to fit mana stones cast barrier magic around the gem, or at least cover it physically. It’s why enchanted items need maintenance so often. If the barrier erodes and water gets in, the user’s not gonna have a good time.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

He gestured toward the peculiar looking steel cylinder. “Now this is where this tube comes in.”

It was a crude container about the size and width of a small vase and made of roughly forged metal. It was topped with a secure looking cap of sorts.

Stromund picked up the container, wrestling the lid open with some trouble. “If we throw the stone in here with some water, pressure will start to build aaand…”

He clapped his hands together for dramatic effect, “Boom, it explodes.”

Geld stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I see...like a kettle without a vent, huh?”

“Yeah but when this fills with pressure, the blast is strong enough to collapse a rampart.”

Everyone’s eyes widened, to think that something this inconspicuous could be so destructive.

“You get why this is classified material now yes? If this gets out to the public, anyone with a decent amount of coin or just any adventurer in general can make a device like this.”

Geld picked up the stone carefully, rolling it around in his palm. It seemed to glisten dangerously now that everyone knew how volatile it was.

A nasty smile spread over Geld’s face, “Just how did you figure something like this out?” Geld was already thinking of ways he could use the thing, the ways it could be used as a weapon were endless.

“The demon troops up north used these to disrupt supply lines, destroying bridges and garrisons. It’s considered ‘heretic demon’ technology’ or some bullshit like that.” His face got serious, “That’s why if the top brass hear about this, our heads are gonna roll. We’d best keep quiet about this.”

Malt and Henry gulped, nodding nervously.

Stromund rolled out a large, crudely scrawled map. “Time to get to the mission specifics.”

From a glance, the map looked like nothing more than a few messily sketched buildings and geological features, but after peering a little closer an enormous amount of information could be picked out.

Building outlines, the interior inside those buildings; patrols routes, even the times when patrols come around those routes. It was wonderfully detailed.

“The village’s name is Hythe. It used to be in Astouran territory but it’s being occupied by a contingent of Khods, fifty strong.”

Geld crossed his arms, a look of concern on his face. “That’s a bad number. We only have maybe twenty men in fighting condition.”

“Exactly my thoughts, but that's where you three come in.” He pointed to a larger looking building in the center of the hamlet.

“This is the barracks, it’s got two stories and houses all the weapons and sleeping quarters for the Khods.”

“That’s an awfully fancy setup for such a small village. I assume they’re planning on making it a command center or supply depot at some point?”

“Most likely, which is even more reason to bring it down now, while we still can.” He traced his finger on a thin line that encircled the perimeter of the entire village.

“Two thirds of them are awake at all times, either patroling or directing production. The other third is resting, they switch out every eight hours so that they have most of the force on duty at any point in time.”

The look of concern on Geld’s face only deepened, “Shit...that’s pretty rough. They won’t let us in if we disguised as travelers either,

right?”

“Yep, they declared martial law. The villagers are being forced to work almost nonstop, the poor bastards. That’s why our only chance of infiltrating is unseen and at night.”

He then pointed to a little note scrawled on the corner of the map. “This is the only viable opportunity. At midnight when they switch patrols, our scouts noticed that the Khods are a bit sloppier. The one’s already sleeping are late to get on duty and the one’s getting off go to bed earlier than they’re supposed to.”

Geld’s lips stretched into a precarious grin. “I can see where this is going. Get them in one fell swoop.”

“Exactly.”

Henry and Malt looked at the two veterans in confusion. Whatever silent conversation they were having in their eyes wasn’t being picked up by the two greenhorns.

“Basically, there’s a maybe five minute window where there are less guards about and more guards in the barracks. We’ll use this time to our advantage.”

A look of horror enveloped Henry’s face as he began to realize the strategy. The bomb, the timing, it all made sense now.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Of course he’d killed a few times before, but massacring dozens of men in their sleep, when they couldn’t fight back…

It was a death without honor, one that didn’t allow them to even know what was happening before it was too late.

“W-wait, isn’t that a little too...cruel?”

Stromund placed a supporting hand on the boy’s shoulder, “We’re not in a position where we can worry about things like that, lad. It’s terrible, but what needs to happen needs to happen.”

Geld on the other hand, didn’t sugarcoat it.

“Nothing’s not cruel about killing. It’s not much of a difference whether they die on a battlefield or in their sleep.”

Henry was visibly opposed to the plan, he looked to anyone that could back him up, to confirm that his opinion wasn’t the strange one.

“M-Malt, you get it right? This is a little too extreme right-”

Henry was shocked by Malt’s expression. It wasn’t one of disgust nor unease, in fact there wasn’t much of an expression there at all.

It could best be described as indifference.

He looked as if he wasn’t bothered with the order he was just given. Not anxious by the fact that he’d been tasked with slaughtering dozens of men in their sleep.

He turned to Henry and as if he was having a casual conversation, spoke.

“I don’t see much of a problem at all.”