Shuddering and spasming the corpses of their comrades got up, and with clenched teeth, they made sure they re-embraced death.
Resilience and adaptability were the two main things focused on in the numerous skirmisher boot camps spread across the Francia Conglomerate, however even with all their training they felt utterly overwhelmed.
They had lost five brothers today, and then they had to put down all five once again when they got back up.
He had to leave this area and continue to scout the surroundings though or else more may die and so after a heartfelt and quick prayer to the Holy Seer, Bertrand slung his beamer and started moving towards his squadmates who were having a heated conversation with Olivier.
Passing by a white faced skirmisher who was leaning against one of the tall pine trees, staring at nothing, almost like he wasn’t even here, he approached the Trio close enough to catch a wisp of their words.
“This is something that could only happen during the end of days!” Olivier angrily said. Vidily shaking his finger at Césaire.
“Then we shall call for the priests, they have a holy duty and we have a soldierly one, we must keep scouting.” Francois calmly interjected, as though he was talking about some common topic like the codster incident.
“Scout what? Demons, nay not I, I’m only mortal, man is where my expertise lies.” Olivier snarled, spittle flying everywhere.
At this point, Bertrand was almost right beside them, though he had paused mid step wondering if he should just wait for them to finish.
“You a believer in the Holy Seer are you not? On this day we are the only shield between the apocalyptic forces of the void and the loyal believers of our saviour.” Césaire countered.
Stumped for a second Olivier had no reply, but he quickly he found his voice. “The only ones capable of being shields, are mages. They are the one’s blessed with the Seer’s power. Not us.”
“Do we not wield wands? We control mana and use it to create dreadful beams of pure force with our beamers as the catalyst. We may not be true mages but all of us combined are surely worthy of being one of the Seer’s shields.” Césaire said, voice overflowing with passion. Bertrand couldn't tell how much of it was real and how much was fake but if he had to guess he would place it at being fifty, fifty, one didn't become bone ranked without having some semblance of pride in themselves and the army.
Before Olivier could even say anything, Francois was already talking helping further his friends point. “Even if we are not worthy, there is still not enough certainty to call this the end of days. We must be absolutely certain it is before sending in the mages, if they leave their posts due to our thoughtless message our glorious nation may be no more.”
That was bit of an overstatement, even without the mages it was unlikely the Coalition would be able to push that far into their territory. Then again maybe they could, Bertrand didn’t quite know enough about mages to figure out if Francois was right or not. Olivier seemed to though. As Francois’s words had completely ceased his arguing.
“Your right, we need more proof. Even if we are hopelessly outmatched it is the will of the Holy Seer for evil to be struck down.”They say, nodding their head thoughtfully.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Good, for now we treat this as a freak event, our send another runner back to report to the officers and then we all move out.” Francois said, turning away from them to go find his messenger.
“The bodies?” Olivier hurridly questioned before Francois could walk off.
Without even looking back or pausing in his gait Francois’s replies. We’ve lost to much time, leave them.”
Bertrand and Césaire both winced at the callousness but just like the shocked Olivier they said nothing. Even if it was heartless it was for the greater good and probably what they would have wanted.
Bertrand certainly wouldn't want to be buried and cause his compatriots to send time honouring him instead of saving lives.
Olivier cares a bit more about burial rites though, as he glares at Francois’s back for a few seconds, before reluctantly moving off into the woods.
Walking over to him, Césaire patted him on the shoulder, some speckles of half dried blood from their hand rubbing off onto his grass stained brown tunic.
“What is it with you and touching people?” He found himself asking.
“I don’t know man, herd mentality. Francois could probably give you an explanation about it, make’s people feel better most of the time.”
Glancing over his shoulder Bertrand see’s Francois talking to the pale skirmisher who looked like he had been drained of all his blood.
“Might seem callous every now and then, but the man has a heart of gold.” Césaire says quite confidently. Before continuing. “Double check to make sure you’ve got everything, we’re going to…”
“What?”
“Shhhhhh” Césaire says, finger pressed to his lips. Head tilted up.
Bertrand tries to copy the man, listening out for whatever it is they heard, but try as he might, he doesn't hear anything out of place, the birds are still chirping, the breeze is still blowing, the chirp of cicadas is still echoing out from every piece of foliage surrounding them.
“Ah, never mind, pretty on edge so I thought I heard something.” Césaire apologises.
“It’s fine, what were you saying before?”
“Was going to say double check everything but now that Francois is coming back from his quick chat there's no time for that, of the eight other skirmishers here only Olivier is actually left to scout. Doesn't impact us though, the messengers will get back and our losses will be replaced by some light infantry.”
Bertrand was quite surprised at that but before he could ask Césaire about why they would get reinforced by light infantry and not skirmishers, Francois came up behind him and slapped him on the back. Bobbing his head forwards saying. “Lets go.”
With some slight hesitation, he obeyed. Closely following behind Francois as he moved forward, while Césaire covered their rear.
Before long they were back on the hybrid road. With its large jagged stones and dirt that was practically ash, thanks to the sun's overbearing rays the past few weeks.
It was unfortunate that the first time they actually had a day where they were protected by clouds, was also the first day they faced casualties.
Not minor ones either, as far as Bertrand knew any loss of five or more skirmishers was considered a major loss, though it had been a while since he had been in the tactics class, two years to exact. So perhaps that was only for company or regiment sized forces.
They kept on walking for around half an hour, not talking just watching. Then a grunt of surprise from Césaire broke the uneasy silence.
Turning away from the small hills he had been carefully observing and focusing back on the road, Bertrand spotted what made Césaire so surprised, it was Olivier and he was running towards them.