B'arthon sat in his father's tent, suppressing his scowl. He was a little impressed that the old village lord decided to actually travel all this way instead of just putting someone else in charge. That meant he likely considered Jack and S'haar the biggest threat to his buffing empire, which was good. But it also meant the younger male had to report his failures in person before this situation was wrapped up, which was not so good.

The younger noble sighed as he repeated himself. "Listen, we outnumbered them two to one, which would be good odds in most historical situations., but you've seen these people in action. They have weapons we've never seen, armor we've never seen, and they are led by some of the best damn fighters anyone has ever seen! That army you sent me out with was never going to solve the problem. The best I could hope for was to prevent them from escaping and finding a place to dig in where we'd never be able to dislodge them. That's what I did. Now we have one final chance to properly put an end to this mess!"

Lord A'ngles sighed in his chair as he set down his goblet. "I suppose you're right. Judging from the reports I received, I'm not sure anyone could have done any better. I should have never let them start up that outpost, to begin with, but the paths of past hunts are always easily trodden. But given what you now know and their current situation, what would you say is the best path forward?"

B'arthon was surprised. He was expecting more snide comments and belittling. Maybe even a disinheritance. But instead, his father finally seemed awakened to the threat these people posed and was willing to listen to reason. Without hesitation, he answered. "Well, we're limited on options at the moment. The one thing we absolutely cannot afford is to let them slip past again. We need to force them into one final fight. A small force should be sent to reinforce the army I have positioned to prevent their escape, but otherwise, we need to resume our march, eliminating any available hiding spots. So far, they've avoided a stand-up fight preferring to use misdirection unless they have no other option. We need to take all those options away."

A'ngles raised an eye ridge and reached for his drink again. "And what will they do when finally cornered?"

Closing his eyes, B'arthon tried to get inside his opponent's mindset. "That will depend on if we can catch them more quickly than they can prepare. If given enough time, they'll likely set up a trap. They won't have enough time to outfit their new allies with any significantly powerful arms or armor. Most of their army will simply be the same hill people we've fought before, so the trap will likely center around the core group that first escaped from the outpost. Once their trap is ready, they'll likely send some unmistakable sign to draw us in. Our best bet is to find them before that happens."

The older noble smiled and shook his head. "So, we need to hurry up and be thorough simultaneously? Not much for eloquence, and somewhat contradictory, but that's more or less my own conclusion as well. We are on the same trail, so to speak. As it stands, I will continue to leave you in charge of most decisions, though I would like a full report if I'm ever not present."

B'athon was more than a little surprised. When he'd first walked into his father's tent and saw the old argu'n lounging about, he'd assumed this meeting would go very differently. But, instead, he began to feel relief as he realized things might actually work out exactly as he'd hoped.

That was when one of the guards rushed into the tent before bowing to A'ngles and B'arthon, respectively. "My Lords! You must come out and see this at once!"

B'arthon rose before offering a hand to his struggling father. The years had taken their toll; obviously, this journey hadn't been easy on him. Nevertheless, the older argu'n took the offered hand confidently, then grabbed his cane, and the two stepped out of the tent together. They were met by a huge black plume rising into the heavens. A forest fire had broken out somewhere to their north.

Turning to his adopted son, A'ngles smiled, conveying amusement and frustration simultaneously. "I don't suppose that would be the 'unmistakable sign' you mentioned, would it?"

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B'arthon felt his earlier relief fade as he realized that, once again, they were likely too late. "Yes, that would be exactly what I was talking about..."

A'ngles leaned on his cane a little more heavily. "So, how would you recommend we proceed from here?"

The younger noble frowned again. "This could always be a distraction, though I'm betting not. In all likelihood, their trap is set, and taking a little longer may make things harder on them than us since they don't have supplies coming in from the villages like we do. But based on my experience in the valley, we can't wait them out either. So we proceed as planned. We'll just have to remember that we're fighting this battle on their terms, so we must maximize our superior numbers and the better condition of our warriors."

The older noble nodded, turning his attention back to the plume of smoke. "One final gamble. I've never been a fan of games of chance, but I suppose it can't be avoided. Ready the warriors. You have my full support."

B'arthon looked back at his father, surprised at how much those words meant to him, before turning and heading out to issue his orders.

-

Mar'kon slapped the apprentice upside the head. Not hard enough to hurt him and distract him so he wouldn't learn anything, but hard enough to get his attention. "You can't just put coal in there, it won't get nearly hot enough, and you'll ruin the steel! Go cook the coal until you get coke, then use that for the fire!"

As the apprentice hurried off with the coal he'd been about to throw in the crucible furnace, the old metal worker shook his head. He didn't blame the worker. This new process had a lot to keep track of. It was almost enough to make the old master crafter wonder if it wasn't time to step down from being the craft master and become just another worker, focused more on his own work than teaching. But, of course, before he could do that, he'd have to find someone who could do a halfway decent job of mastering the techniques brought back from the Dragon's Outpost, and even the workers who'd brought the techniques back didn't match up to his expectations. Although they'd told him that young Tel'ron had really grown as a craftsman, maybe the youngster would make a decent replacement if he didn't get himself killed fighting this stupid war.

A bit of laughter behind him let the old metal worker know Jan'kul had arrived. The new craft master was a bit early, but that was all right. Mar'kon wasn't in the middle of anything that couldn't wait. The woodworker looked over the crucible kiln and shook his head. "I'm not sure if I envy or pity you metal workers with how much ironworking has changed. The actual process of woodworking stayed pretty similar to what we knew before. It's mostly the application that's changed. I'm not sure how you manage to keep up with all these new ideas, let alone improve on some of the things your workers brought back with them!"

Mar'kon wiped his hands on the greasy rag he always had on hand and sighed. "Honestly, it wasn't that hard, but I'm pretty sure they only memorized what they were told and had no real understanding of what they were doing. I may not have known these new techniques, but metal is metal, and some concepts seem to be universal. Now, if the one who taught them what they memorized were to look at my 'improvements,' they could probably tell me a hundred things I'm doing wrong, but I gotta learn by trial and error, so it'll take a while to make any real changes to the process."

Jan'kul nodded with a faraway look that meant he was thinking back on his time at the outpost. "Yeah, Jack and his sister were a never-ending spring of knowledge and ideas. Honestly, everything you've seen and learned pales compared to some of the things those two took for granted. I'd say it was magic, but every bit of it seems based on knowledge rather than mysteries, like the new smelting process you use. When you add enough of it up, it becomes an incomprehensible jumble of information I wouldn't know how to begin unraveling!"

The older metal worker turned his attention to the north, staring into the distance as if that could reveal the secrets the future might hold, before responding. "Such a waste. I don't know why they seem so determined to fight against Lord A'ngles. I caught a glimpse of the army he took north. Such an army could've wiped our whole village out in an afternoon and finished in plenty of time for dinner."

The woodworker looked north as well. "Maybe, but I'm sure Jack, S'haar, and Angela still have a few tricks up their sleeves. I wouldn't write them off just yet. There's still a chance they might show up one day and teach you some of those secrets I've told you about."

Mar'kon huffed and turned back to his furnaces. "Maybe you're right, but I fear you'll only be learning from him in your dreams after A'ngles finishes up there. For all his faults, I've never seen our lord do anything halfway..." Then more quietly to himself, he muttered again. "Such a waste."

Turning away, the metal worker couldn't help but notice Jan'kul still looking off into the distance, smiling as though he knew something he wasn't saying.