Without Olivier and Césaire around it was rather dull.

There were only so many games to play that involved two people.

More specifically there were only so many games to play with two people that Bertrand had a chance at winning.

Francois was utterly merciless in demolishing him in every single game they played.

Francois even won thirteen out of seventeen rounds of mage, cannon and battalion.

Bertrand had asked him how and even begged Francois to teach him his methods and secrets and to his credit Francois revealed how he was so successful.

Facial expressions were apparently how he managed to predict what Bertrand was going to play each time.

So Bertrand had taken to trying to keep a calm facial expression on his face at all times but he still lost almost every game.

Upon further inquiry Francois had said that it was in the eyes but all Bertrand could see was just some pupils and whatever the liquid that was in an eyeball was.

So that was a dead end.

By the time it was evening and time to go back to his tent to rest he felt utterly demoralised.

Loss after loss had led to Francois having am eighteen win streak in last card.

He could stick around to play a few more hands but he didn’t much feel like losing and so he said his goodbyes to Francois who was going to be leaving soon for their night shift.

The walk back to his tent was rather pleasant, the nasty sun had disappeared by now, replaced by the soothing light of the moon.

Opening up the tent flaps he slinked his way inside, casting off his boots and closing the flaps before laying down on his bedroll and drifting off to sleep.

Instead of the dreamless oblivion he craved though, he dreamed of nightmarish creatures descending upon him and his fellow soldiers.

He dreamed of ripped limbs and puddles of gore.

He dreamed of horrible screams.

But he also dreamed of them fighting back.

The clashes of bayonet and claw as well as the sounds of thunderous thuds caused by fired muskets destroying houses, formed a strange symphony within his dream.

But at a certain point he realized he was no longer dreaming.

He was staring up at the roof of his tent and yet he could still hear the roar of battle.

Seer, they were under attack.

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Leaping out of bed he grabbed and slung his beamer over his shoulder before hurriedly shoving his feet in his boots, not even bothering to lace them as he fumbled with the buttons for the tent flaps.

Finally getting them open he stumbled outside, almost tripping on his laces as he looked around.

It was just like back when he was a boy and saw a bee hive kicked over.

Everywhere there was someone rushing around.

He didn’t know where they were being attacked from, but it must have been a major attack.

“Gather up, gather up. Bertrand your with us.” Someone yelled out.

Turning around Bertrand saw that it was Olivier, who seemed to have half a dozen soldiers with him.

Light Infantry and skirmishers alike.

Not wanting to waste time by asking questions Bertrand just does as he’s told and jogs over to where Olivier was.

“Adaptors are in the town, we’re going to be reinforcing the western wall.” One of the infantrymen hurriedly told Bertrand.

And then they were off, sprinting through the cobblestoned streets and rushing around other squads who were heading to other hotspots.

They hadn’t really been given any clear orders on what to do should the walls be breached, though it could just be that it was only the brass buttoned and wooden buttoned that knew nothing.

Olivier certainly seemed to know what he was doing and Bertrand would bet every crown he had that they were a bone buttoned veteran.

Just as they were a few dozen yards away from the wall Bertrand skidded before faceplaming into the ground, having been tripped up by his undone laces.

This unlucky occurrence turned out to actually have been incredibly lucky though, as a dart like projectile sailed over him.

If he had still been running then he would have been nailed in the neck by it.

“Seer, adaptor!” One of the skirmishers to his left snarled out in surprise.

And then everyone was skidding, as they abruptly tried to turn around.

Olivier handled it well though, managing to gracefully spin around and instantly fire his beamer.

A scathing ray of pure force cut off the adaptor’s arm, it also took off a few bricks on the rooftop that it was perched on.

The clattering sound of them hitting the ground coincided with the firing of a musket which took out a giant hunk from its side.

Unerringly though, it just stood, accepting their attacks like they had no effect even though they clearly did.

Then it sprung forwards, almost flying through the air.

Then it landed on top of an infantryman, its one good arm sinking its vicious claws into their back. Stabilizing the foul creatures hold on the poor man.

Scrambling backwards Bertrand watched in horror as it tore into their throat, burying into it like how a calf would suckle from its mother.

Then with a pop, its head alongside a good part of the infantryman's neck exploded.

Shaking the infantrymen who had fired the shot, stuttered out. “I had to.”

Even as their friend fell to the ground, gurgling and spluttering as blood shot out of them.

It was sickening, the blood pumping high up into the sky in horrific arches before splattering back down onto the ground.

“He has fulfilled the Seer’s plans.” Olivier said, trying to be comforting but failing utterly as the man let out another sob.

After a few seconds of hesitation, as if weighing up what to do Olivier simply said.”We move on.”

Before striding off towards the wall, Bertrand had already gotten up by now and even though he felt appalled and wanted to comfort the man, the wall came first.

Trailing behind them the other members of their hastily assembled team followed.

Even the man who had killed his friend joined them, fire burning in his eyes.