The tents of the linemen were smaller than the skirmisher’s tents but were also far more numerous. It was like a lake of blue surrounding the wagon circle.

They also had far more wagons now, enough that they could probably pass as a large merchant convoy.

Rather than creating a secondary circle with newly arrived wagons though they instead set them up on the hill, forming a wall of wood and wheels.

Typically supplies would be kept more secure than that, but Bertrand wasn't an officer, maybe it was to reassure them? According to Francois they had lost eighty soldiers yesterday, losses like that were devastating for morale.

So they probably made the wagon wall in a bid to rise morale and make people feel more secure about the perceived threat ahead of them.

Looking at the guards though it didn't seem to have worked, Bertrand certainly wasn't an expert on body language but even he could tell they were nervous.

He couldn't blame them, even now he wanted nothing more than to hide behind some mages and let them deal with this problem, but the time of mages had past, now was their time, now was their age.

He just hoped he could live long enough to properly cherish it. “Cheer up, in and out. Besides, we got these fellas with us. You’re keep us safe, aye lads?” Césaire said, yelling over at their small contingent of light infantry who would be accompanying them in their scouting.

“Course, looking forward to seeing zombies trying to fight when they're missing half their body.” One of the infantrymen said with a chuckle.

Usually there was some slight conflict between the skirmishers and the other corps, mostly over the excessive facial hair they were allowed and the lax uniform requirements, when it mattered though they were always united.

Wearing the Francia Conglomerate uniform was quite a pain after all, the bright blue trenchcoat easily highlighting them no matter the terrain, as well as white trousers that got stained from every little thing. Plus it was also a pain to always have to shave. So Bertrand fully understood the grievances the other corps had with his own.

On the bright side, it did make them look rather elite, if you had to choose between a skirmisher or a light infantry soldier to protect you, nine times out of ten the light infantrymen would be selected.

They simply looked more professional, well the skirmishers looked like bandits or vagabonds at best.

Walking over to a small gap between two wagons that functioned as a sort of gate, the twenty strong group marched out. Squinted eyes glaring down at the hilly terrain.

The wagon wall was situated at the top of one of the tallest ridges, it wasn't exactly massive but it was a decent forty foot climb to get up and down it.

Behind the wagon line was another series of lumpy hills, forming a deformed ridge that would serve as the second to last line of defense, further behind that final ridge there was some semi flatland that the sea of tents was situated on.

They weren't going behind it though, they were going forwards. Thankfully the ridge they were on was amongst the tallest so they had a clear view of the terrain, there were also a number of soldiers scattered around the hills, hiding in bushes and under torn out grass to guard the wagon line.

So they were quite safe, even then though, walking through the gate and down the ridge was quite a nerve racking experience. At least their escorts seemed confident.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The only thing they were sweating from was the sun. “So, what exactly happens now?” One of them asked Francois, recognising him as the more professional member of the squad.

“We likely find some tunnels or a cave system and we return to inform the officers, then we lead a few grenadiers back here and scour them for any enemy combatants.” Francois replied, sounding a little confused at their question.

“No, I mean in terms of continuing east. I mean, lots of you lost your lives yesterday. Are we going to meet back up with the seventh legion for reinforcements maybe or will we be relying on something else for our scouting? I’m obviously not a skirmisher so I was wondering if you know?”

A little taken aback at the question Francois scratches thoughtfully at their beard for a few seconds.”I imagine we will be doing standard procedure and having light infantry stand in for the, missing skirmishers. Not confirmed dead yet.”

“Huh, whats the ratio going to be like?” they continue.

Droning out Francois’s reply and the infantrymen further questions. Bertrand fully on looking around, trying to spot any hidden combatants, friend or foe.

He ended up spotting three soldiers before eventually reaching the end of the hills and the start of the woods, if they were to head to the right a little they would end up on the half completed road he had been on yesterday.

Probably by as early as next year that road would be finished, drilling a path through the hills and ridges and leading to Karsunch.

“Right, we’re going to be sticking together and going to the position of where the front ranks were estimated to be at when the formation fell, be on guard for anything. We don’t die easy, so I doubt whatever got us will.” Césaire says, still with his signature smirk but at least it had a hint of concern.

Bertrand had wondered if Césaire was actually the jaded one based on how unaffected they seemed to be while he and Francois were drowning themselves. It was nice to see the veteran was unsettled too.

Helped make them seem more human, it was a weird feeling, if he had the free time later he would have to ask Francois about it. That and the whole patting thing.

Despite Césaire’s warning, the chatty infantrymen was still asking Francois question after question about what it was like being a skirmisher.

Bertrand idly wonders if that was what he had been like, before once again focusing fully on surveying their surroundings. He found nothing though, even as the sparse trees started to dominate every part of the land, he still found nothing out of place.

They were deep into the woods now and apart from the occasional footstep there was no sign of any of the missing skirmishers, they did find scraps of fabric though, likely coming from the zombies.

Seer how horrific zombies were, Bertrand would have been fine being hunted by some other dangerous creature, like a bear. Even though a bear was more dangerous than a single zombie Bertrand would have been fine with such a beast having a desire for human flesh.

Because there was just something fundamentally disturbing about people being twisted by what Bertrand could only guess was some sort of magical plaque into being abominations, contorted by rage and fueled by a hunger for their once beloved friends and family.

“Hey guys, I found something.” It was the talkative infantrymen who spoke, holding up a necklace uncertainly.

“That's strange, I don’t recall anyone wearing a necklace like that.” Césaire said, after walking up to get a closer look at it.

“Thats not the problem Césaire.” Francois says, an expression of unease coating his face.

“Hmm?” Césaire mumbled back confused.

“We’ve already gone through this area and that's a rather shiny necklace, where did you get it?” Francois solemnly asks the infantrymen.

“It was just laying on the ground, just on the dirt.” they answer, slightly panicked from Francois’s tone

“Seer Francois what is your prob…Oh” Césaire says, smirk fading as he realises whatever it was that had Francois so worried.

Confused and unsure about what was going on Bertrand decided to just ask them. “Whats the issue?”

“It’s shiny, Don’t you think we would have noticed it.” Francois answered, face pale, as the infantrymen shifted in their boots uneasily.