Night brought darkness, and darkness was the greatest cover of all for all parties involved. The translucent or transparent properties of those who could manage it were amplified, making it incredibly difficult to spot them. On one hand, remaining hidden was very easy as long as they kept visual on the scouts circling the base. On the other hand, the scouts did not carry torches, as their [Night Vision] granted them some measure of visibility even in the dead of night.

With infrared rays, spotting these people sneaking through the forest trying to catch them unaware was a cinch. A quick scan pinged her with the relative locations of everyone, followed by more afterscans to gauge the direction they were moving. The guards were a moderate distance from everyone, as they spread out in a rough semi circle around the camp.

With a moment of peace, sneaking directly into the camp was now an option on the table. With her abilities, tackling the root of the problem would be easy. Get in, scan the whole camp, address any points of interest, and leave. And if any blood got on her hands, chalk it up to the job. She’d kill the whole camp if she had to. The walls were smooth shaven wood poles, sharpened to a tip at the top. Sneaking through the open entryway, protected by guards instead of a gate, would be her best bet…

PING!

Anomaly in range. Priority: High.

A high priority result? All the scans until now had not returned anything this important to investigate. Visualizing the field in her mind, aggregated data superimposed over each other many times to form a precise recreation of the nearby surroundings up to a few miles. In the distance, just beyond the edge of vision, emissions suggested the presence of something strange. Something… mechanical.

This was a case that merited attention. The operation she would put on hold; the others would probably perform fine in her absence. After all, they were confident and displayed skill suited to this task of infiltration and sabotage. So she tracked over fallen trees and mossy stones, a mildly interesting rock and shrubs in rows, brush sprouting from the ground in messy droves…

Perience lagged behind the rest, cautiously stepping over and around every obstacle. As a swordsman he had not much experience with sneaking around and being stealthy in general, and having to navigate with naught but moonlight restricted his movements so he dared not make a sound. Not even the snap of a branch of the crunch of a brittle frozen leaf. Only the soft squish of snow could be heard, barely audible, every time he took another step.

Trying to avoid the notice of the patrols was a gargantuan task for him, not so much for the others. The Crown Infiltrators, trained exactly for this sort of activity, were already in the zone. Swiftly crossing soft, mildly unstable, and treacherous ground was no problem to the group, avoiding sticks and stones with careful footwork. Following above were the members of the Golden Arrow, staying above ground level in the treetops in the hopes of being able to avoid scouts low to the floor.

Emis and Martin were both more unused to not being loud and obnoxious in times of war, struggling to move as fast as the other two groups. As such, they remained close together despite being told to spread out.

“Can’t you just use your Ghostform to phase through stuff? Maybe float over the ground like a ghost.”

“Technically I can, but the more ghostlike I become, the more the scroll’s power is expended, drastically shortening the time I can remain in this state.”

“Don’t you have any more scrolls on you to use? Perhaps you could use multiple so you could last a lot longer.”

Martin pretended to rifle through his nonexistent backpack for scrolls and waved his hands as if he came up empty.

“They’re not exactly easy to come by. Ghostform is not a spell commonly learned. Only those with a natural penchant for the art of death tend to walk the path and learn it. Additionally, imbuing scrolls to hold a spell is no easy task. Spells are meant to be used immediately, so sealing them in a form that is easy to trigger only when meant to is difficult.”

“Point in favor of alchemists. Unlike you lot, potions are easier to make than scrolls. Much easier to learn alchemy and make an invisibility potion than to try to weave magic masterfully.”

“But you need more ingredients. Some are hard to find or can’t be grown, so you can mass produce all of your brews. Plus potions are clunky and clink when you carry them around. Not very stealthy of you.”

“But potions are more practical. There’s no mana restoration spell, is there? Plus I can make a bunch of different concoctions for different scenarios, where the average wizard has to specialize. How many magical healers have you seen in your lifetime, huh?”

“We don’t need those when we have clerics! They do all the healing and they can do it for free every day! I don’t see you generating healing potions for free just by sleeping.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Oh, clerics? And their abominable excuse of a religion? I thought it was supposed to be about a God or something but they won’t even specify who or what! What do they even worship? Higher beings?”

“Bold words for someone much less successful than them! They’ve got a significant presence in many other countries besides our own! They also possess a military and count as their own sovereign state, while you are only one man.”

“And they have to band together to do that. I could take on ten of them, no problem. I bet most of them haven’t even experienced war before! And they’re pretentious, calling themselves ‘The Chosen Few’ or whatever. I’d say they’re much more suited to Court Jesters than any serious conflict!”

So they argued, the two prodigious fools in their own right, complaining over the most inconsequential things. While they were hard to see, their voices were not so muted, and the resultant noise pollution spread farther than either of them expected through their little slice of the quiet pine forest. Soon they became no longer alone.

“Wait. Shut up for a second, Martin. Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? My hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.”

Unlike Martin, Emis was no researcher or theorizer. Most of his adulthood was spent on the battlefield, learning how to survive conflict the hard way. Many a time he came close to death, and through experience he had honed his senses to an immense degree. Here, in the middle of the woodlands, deep in enemy territory, his alertness was at a peak. In his state of flow, he reached into his pack and withdrew some concoction and tossed it to his left, out of sight. Martin, translucent and ethereal under the night sky, watched the floating clothes and backpack chuck the bottle into the underbrush.

“Emis, what are you-”

“Just wait for it. In three, two, one..”

Just when it seemed like nothing would happen, a myriad of greenery, vines and roots and tentacled probes of plant growths burst from the darkness and entangled an unscrupulous little teenager clad in light animal pelts, clutching a dagger in one hand and an extinguished torch in the other. The girl opened her mouth to scream, and was silenced by a cloth wrapped around her head to gag her, as Emis dangled another potion in front of her.

“Sorry for all the trouble little missy, but we’ve got some stuff we have to do and places we need to be. I was wondering which direction your food stores were in, and I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to tell me…”

He let spill a little bit of the green glowing juices inside, and the contents splashed over a mildly interesting rock on the ground and began to dissolve its rough, generic surface with worrying speed. The girl scout’s eyes widened, and she struggled against her vegetation-esque bonds fruitlessly.

“...or you can meet the same fate as this stone here. Now, do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

As Emis began his impromptu torture session, the others dealt with their own problems. The Golden Arrows, for all their skill and finesse, were spotted from a hundred meters away by a strangely keen veteran, an elite scout years past their prime, keeping up with the younguns through diligent training of the mind and body. And now they were facing a most dangerous situation indeed.

“Quickfoot, cover me! Deadeye, watch our backs. I’ll take the front. Don’t let them get a read on you!”

The whole group was retreating, baiting out the first responders that were sent to scare them away. Under the assumption that this was only a couple of scouts that got too close, the Hammer Tribes did not send their best, or many at all; only enough to discourage a direct confrontation. Unlike the adventuring group, these men and women sent to eliminate them were loud and obvious, declaring their location and intention through heavy footfalls and the crunch of trees and shrubs knocked aside by hurried warriors.

Kiting them was not too difficult as long as they did not stay in one cohesive group. Merely backing up in smaller squads of three or four was sufficient to keep distance while aiming shots behind them. With another watching the flanks and one to ensure they were not pincered from the front, the warhammer and sword and axe wielding battle maniacs were helpless against arrows and bolts from bows and crossbows.

And then: whoosh! A projectile nearly put out the eye of a poor Golden Arrowsman, nimbly leaning out of the way. The object in question, a smooth pebble, launched at speeds no stone should ever be going at. Some of the enemy were now wielding slingshots, and with their typically colossal strength, firing these little rocks was simple. The force they had was not enough to rival a real arrow in most cases, and their aim was nowhere as good, but with number and kinetic force it was sufficient to deter looking back and aiming their bows at the pursuing squad.

Their leader growled to herself, upset with the new changes.

“No one told me about the stupid slingshots. How savage and primitive.”

The Crown Infiltrators fared much better, successfully slipping away and avoiding battle. The goal was to destroy their food stores and strike down key personnel necessary for logistics or buffing the troops as a whole, in an effort to weaken the true fighting potential and morale for the army. And at first everything seemed to be going well: they dodged the notice of their sworn adversaries, combing the forest floor for signs of digging or recent construction. It was not long before one of the newer recruits nearly stumbled over a trapdoor, hidden among the foliage, under a cover of snow and leaves.

“Object of interest located. Gather around this point, everyone.”

With ease, the leader congregated all of the members, giving them time to flock to his location. With a skill for groupthink, all could feel what the others felt, and work in unison towards any goal. Watching all his men and women return to him, the recruit responsible for discovering the cache broke tradition, if only for a moment, to reach down and undo the latch, despite knowing he should wait and prepare. That proved to be his downfall.

With incredible speed and strength, an elite daggermaster burst from the ground and dealt the recruit a devastating blow across the chest with a single swipe, throwing him back in critical condition. The infiltrators turned to meet this new threat, watching many more spring from the trap door. Clearly, the foe had not been as unprepared as the leader assumed.

Perience, long haven given up on stealth, merely trudged through the forest after noticing no one was coming to stop him, or care about his existence. At this point he was wondering how far he could walk towards camp before being discovered, even seeing the wooden walls erected for temporary defense in the distance. It was only here he was spotted, deflecting a woman’s blade that nearly pierced his heart. It was all so sudden. One moment, all was calm. The next, nearly shivved through the back. It took all of his intuition and gut feeling to stop the blow, and the woman leapt back, sizing up her opponent.

“You should not have come here, sir. You knew the risks when you declared war on us. Soon we will topple your country, and your land shall be put to good use.”

“Bold words for someone who couldn’t kill me with the element of surprise. But I’m impressed with your swordsmanship. Reconnaissance bands usually don’t train their blades to perfection, as you have tried to do.”

“What can I say? I give it my all. So I will do my very best to remove you from the competition, here and now.”

“I haven’t had a duel this exciting in a while. Now, come. Let us test our blades.”

And their clash was not the end of this chapter, as Pion came upon a Hieft kneeling before a monolithic metal ruin, curved in the shape of a piece of a very familiar portal. The king turned in surprise, seeing this woman before him.

“This is awkward.”