"Definitely illegal." The lead pitcher said, panting and hunched over while sitting on a rock.

"Yup." Reginald nodded in agreement, similarly exhausted and aching all over. "Super illegal."

Neither had any serious wounds, but there was hardly a mouse within the newfound army that wasn't feeling pains from the previous battle. A gentle, rhythmic strumming filled the air with soothing music, which of course didn't fix everything, as no matter how powerful a bard might be, their influence was very finite, but it did help to take the edge off of the pain of even the most severely wounded mice, doing still more to soothe their frayed nerves. Annabelle was also rather banged up when a grenade had exploded in close proximity to her, but at the time her only concern was for her instrument, which had been thrown from her paws. It didn't land particularly far away, but between her natural blindness and being disoriented by the very loud explosion, it might as well have ended up in another plane of existence, and she was forced to rely on others in order to retrieve it. Despite the number of small yet clearly painful wounds on the body of the young bard, being reunited with the instrument had completely mended her spirits, and while the instrument itself was slightly damaged, she expressed little concern over it. It was already somewhat damaged due to her regular falls, after all. Even if the wood was a little bit singed and darkened in places, its performance, nor that of the player, had suffered from the battle in the least.

None of the injuries appeared to be critical, even if some of them were quite severe. Several mice had taken bullets to the arms or legs, the single shot being enough to render the limb useless for a time, and in some cases, likely permanently. Most of the injuries were quite light, however. General bruising, small cuts, and more than a few blows to the head. Nothing that would cause long term damage or even hinder their ability to travel. It helped a lot that all of the cultists, Sellas, of course being no exception, were well versed in general medical treatment, of both the arcane and conventional varieties. When one spends all of their days badgering strangers on street corners, it was useful to be prepared when one of them inevitably grew irritated and violent.

As for the general mood amongst the group, it was a strange one. Not deflated, but not entirely cheerful, either. The battle was, indeed, a victory, but their goal of reducing Mollenoch's forces, and, more importantly, destroying two of his generals had ended in failure. Even with the massive numbers advantage, it was still a very hard fought battle, and very few of the mice who engaged in it had felt that the victory was truly earned. There was a great deal of confusion over why the enemy had fled at all, as it felt as though they had had the advantage, but this was also contested. Despite the lack of enemy casualties, they were being pressed and were taking a lot of damage. Perhaps more than the ally mice had realized, and maybe the withdraw was more necessary than it had initially appeared.

While there was a notable lack of raucous celebration and cheers, morale was still more high than low. In the end, they had stood and fought while their enemies were forced to flee. That's a victory, no matter how you look at it, and quite possibly the first victory ever achieved by the kingdom against Mollenoch's forces. Speaking of the kingdom, while historically there had been little need to giving our homeland an actual name, now that multiple other kingdoms had emerged and made themselves known, it would soon enough become necessary. I dreaded to think of the sort of fights which would break out over trying to decide on one. This was, of course, based on the assumption that the kingdom would even still exist once the war had reached its conclusion.

Even if they had won the fight, some of our forces were far more pleased with the outcome than others.

"We have to go after him!" Multiple members of the flock called to Jebediah at once. They had clearly still felt an immense disdain towards him, but in their minds, the situation was urgent enough to put that aside. For the moment, at least.

"Are you sure that he was taken?" Samson asked. "He might have run off in the confusion of the battle."

The birds were the first to notice that I was missing. Admittedly, I would later take mild offense at the fact that the others had not, but then again, it was my job to be a silent observer of the developing history. The fact that my disappearance had gone unnoticed could well have been a sign of just how skilled I was at that job.

"He's not the most athletic mouse. I couldn't see him getting very far on those stubby little legs of his." Meryll said. She was sitting on a wooden log, being tended to by Sellas, and not looking the least bit happy about it. In spite of Sellas' insistence that she remove her armor so that she could better tend to the wound, even the most rigorous badgering could only get her to take off the outer portions, which had been damaged beyond any hope of salvaging anyways, and pull up the inner layers over her stomach. On first meeting, I had some speculation that the bulk of her size had come from the layers of armor, but beneath it she was still heavily muscled, her long, brown fur cris-crossed with pale scars. Then there was the lower left quarter of her torso, which was pure black, and outlined with a slowly fading yet still horribly unhealthy looking purple. She had insisted that she was fine, of course. How could she be injured? She wasn't even bleeding! Still, the head of the Starman cult knew better, well aware that had things gone a just a little bit differently, the blow striking somewhere more vital, or even were her armor just a little bit thinner, that single strike could well have killed the warrior outright, as it was most likely intended to.

"We have looked everywhere! There is no one around, nowhere to hide, and no bodies!" A bird squawked with uncharacteristic urgency. "They must have taken him!"

"Why would they do that? They came off as more the 'take no prisoners' type to me." Jebediah said. He had come out of the battle largely no worse for wear, his own role within it going, for the most part, unknown.

"Gee, I wonder why they would be interested in taking one of the few people who couldn't fight back, and spent all of their time taking insanely detailed notes about every one of us, and every action that we had taken." Samson grumbled. "The enemy might have been defeated, but they didn't leave empty handed. Now, they have all of our secrets."

"I see." Jeb replied, brow furrowed, looking to his feet. For a moment, at least, before blinking, looking up and tilting his head. "Do we have any secrets?"

"Of course we do!" The one-eyed mouse scoffed before pausing. "I mean... we have to, right? We're an army, after all!" He said, before slumping and sighing as the realization hit him. "It's true. We have absolutely no secrets, tactics or battle-plans. By the Makers, what are we even doing?"

"None of that is important! We need to get him back!" multiple birds called at once, their shrill voices drawing everyone's focus.

"To be honest, I don't see how we even could. You saw how fast they ran. No matter how hard we try to give chase, I can't see us having any hope of catching up." Jeb said to them.

"Maybe you mice can't, but we can! We'll catch them and then..."

"And then what? Get yourselves shot out of the sky?" Samson grumbled to the birds who coldly glared back.

"I hate to say it, but he's right." The farmer sighed. "Your kind have been great for scouting and helped a lot in the battle, but on your own, you're no match for their weapons."

"Are you ordering us to stay?" The flock all at once turned their glares to Jebediah.

"No, not at all. I still don't quite get you feathered folks, but I still don't want to see you get killed for nothing." The farmer nodded. "Still, your lives are your own, and you can do whatever you want with them. I'm sure that even you know, however, that we're strongest as a unit. We have the best chance of winning if we stick together."

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"So, what is your plan, then?" a nearby bird asked him, "To just sit back and let Bertrand die?"

"I certainly hope that it doesn't come to that, but things might not be so bad. They made a point to take him alive, so they likely plan to keep him that way."

"It's true." Samson nodded. "He is a non-combatant, and as much as our lack of secrets irritates me to no end, it means that he not only isn't a threat to them, but also that he has little reason to not cooperate. Unless he does something really, really stupid, they have little reason to harm him."

"Do you honestly believe that the agents of the Devourer are governed by 'reason'?" A nearby bird angrily squawked.

"Yeah, I do. I don't know much about our enemies, but they could never have reached that level of technological advancement if they were simply mindless, bloodthirsty savages. If they simply wanted him dead, they could have effortlessly gunned him down on the battlefield, but they clearly wanted him alive."

"For now. And what happens when they have learned all that they can from him, and he has outlived his usefulness?"

"I suppose, that's up to him. We're all fighting our own battles, in a way, and he's no exception. We'll just have to hope that things work out." Jebediah sighed before looking to the birds, one by one. "Don't get me wrong. I don't plan to abandon the poor fellow. He's presumably being taken to the main enemy force, which just so happens to be our destination, as well."

"Yeah." Samson sighed. "I guess this little 'vacation' is over. Soon, the real battle will begin."

"Good!" Archibald said, clapping the green-garbed mouse on the shoulder. "This battle might not have been the decisive victory we hoped for, but we not only won, but earned some much needed battle experience."

"What my handsome foe says is true." Reginald nodded, stepping up to the other side. "Now that we have some practice fighting side-by-side, and know of the enemies capabilities, we'll be able to fight far more efficiently in the future."

"Yes. My followers have also gained some much-needed combat experience." Sellas smiled, looking up as she finished wrapping a roll of bandages around Meryll's waist. "We need to stay positive. One can't expect to immediately and easily get everything that they desire. We have traveled far, gained valuable allies, and all of us still live to tell the tale. Things are going well, and if we continue to build on these successes, there will be no stopping us."

Meryll looked away, hurriedly covering herself with the least damaged portion of her leather armor, but unable to keep from wincing as it came into contact with the bandaged flesh.

"We should stop at the city first, however." Jebediah said. "We could use some more supplies, and a bit of rest, as well. It's not like it's out of the way or anything. From there, I guess we could make some sort of battle-plan. There's a first time for everything, I suppose. From what the flock has told me, it seems that Mollenoch and his forces are still a good ways from the city. We'll easily beat him there, and from there, it shouldn't have too long to travel until we meet him. As for what happens then, well, I guess that remains to be seen. I'm hoping he'll be a little more open to negotiation than those generals of his."

"Alright! I'd heard about this kingdom of yours and always wanted to see it!" Tanzra said, excitedly. Dave, completely unharmed from the battle nodded in agreement, for some reason.

"I'm not sure how welcome that cat of yours will be there." Samson said to her. "We've had some major problems with dark lords in the recent past."

"He's not a dark lord!" The rider huffed before giving the matter some thought. "Well, he's not dark, anyways. Although, now that I think about it, I do rather like the 'lord' part." she grinned, leaning forward over his head, her own upside down face smiling into his irregular eyes. "How does that sound? 'All hail, lord Augustus!'"

"Yay!" the cat smiled, speaking in its low voice, which sounded happy yet unenthusiastic. From most dark lords one would have immediately expected a sarcastic response.

"Sounds good to me." Jeb shrugged. "I guess we'd better get moving soon. The badly injured should probably recover at Home Base. I imagine the trip back would be too difficult for them. Beyond that, it should be a fairly easy trip. There's always a chance that the enemy will regroup and ambush us on the road, but they left in a pretty big hurry. I doubt they're too eager to start another fight with their inferior numbers." he paused, looking up at Meryll. "Are you alright to travel?"

"I'm fine." she grumbled.

"Are you sure? We can always rest a little more if you need to. It's just that..."

"I said," she glared at him. "I'm fine."

The farmer looked as though he had more to say on the matter but instead simply shrugged. All that remained was the long walk back. Morale might have been a bit iffy immediately following the battle, but once everyone had some time to rest and think, it rose quite steadily. The players were eager to test their skills against a new foe, and didn't seem to mind cooperating with their 'enemies' (a designation I was hesitant to use, as from what I can tell, Reginald and Archibald were, contrary to what they would claim, basically best friends). The cultists had a rough time during the battle, but most of them were still standing and feeling all the stronger for it. The flock were still terribly concerned about me, even though I was the only one who understood why, but were likewise determined. As much as they had hated to agree with our leader, they knew that we were strongest as a united front. Of course there also just happened to be another detail which greatly boosted their spirits.

"Hey, look what I found!" Tanzra called back to the group. She tended to take point, relying on the height and speed of her mount to scout ahead. The flock served in this role as well, but more to keep an eye out for possible attackers in the form of our mechanical enemies along with more conventional yet no less dangerous foes, such as lords of darkness.

What she had found were a pair of large crates, well crafted, and filled to the brim with some familiar devices. Not that any of the mice had gotten a long and close look at them during the battle, as they happened to have the bad habit of exploding. Luckily, even without knowing what the grenades initially did, they caused few injuries. When something is thrown in your direction by an enemy, after all, your natural instinct is to get out of the way, whether you know what it does or not. As the others approached, Tanzra hopped off of her loyal mount, dug through the box, and held one up.

It's a rather simple plastic bulb, perfectly round, with a thin, metal stopper jammed into the top of it.

"Be careful with that! You don't know how it works!" Samson called to her, making a point to keep his distance.

"Sure, I do! I saw the enemies throw them. First you pull the tip off..." she said, yanking out the deceptively long metal pole from the device. Immediately, sparks had begun to fly from the tiny hole, which emitted a menacing hissing sound. "... then you throw it!"

She did so, making sure that it flew a good ways before it thumped onto the ground. The flow of sparks ceased, and for the moment, nothing happened. At least until it suddenly burst into a cloud of flames, smoke and truly excessive noise.

"The enemy must have left these behind when they retreated." Samson said. "I guess it makes sense. They didn't really get a chance to properly break camp or pack up. These could be useful. We might have numbers on our side, but admittedly, our weaponry is pretty sub-par."

"Really?" Sellas frowned. "You expect us to rely on the unholy concoctions of our enemies?"

"Agreed." A nearby member of the flock chirped. "We have no use for the corrupting tools of the Devourer."

"Come on! These things are great!" Tanzra said, picking up another in her paws, smiling. "With these weapons, we'll win for sure!"

"Don't get me wrong, they might be useful," Samson said, "But how will they make us win? They're the same weapons that the enemy has, and they have way, way more of them. It won't give us any advantage over them. At best, it will level the playing field a bit."

"Are you kidding? We've got a huge advantage over them! We have a proper air force, which can bomb them from above!" She grinned to the flock which, in unison, hopped backwards a step.

"No. We have no interest in technology of any kinds." A bird said, shrinking back even further. "Also, they look to be incredibly dangerous."

The others all nodded in agreement.

"Oh, come on! They're super fun!" Tanzra said, encouragingly. "Tell you what. Just try it once. Throw one at... say those rocks over there." the rider motioned to a small pile of pebbles. All the while, Augustus, apparently oblivious to the explosions and the ensuing debate, had simply been staring off into space. "If you don't like it, I promise I'll drop the matter and won't bring it up again."

The birds all looked to one another, their eyes going black as they internally debated the matter. Finally, with a shrug, one approached. "Alright. We will try it. Just once."

It flew over to the mouse woman, snatching the bulb within its talons. Everyone tensed, anticipating the worst as it circled around, flying higher and higher, before diving forward, directly over top the stones, where the small object was dropped with a dull thud. The bird landed some distance away, back turned, as the space behind it was rocked by an intense blast, the stones, along with the ground in the immediate vicinity all but vaporized.

It hopped back to the rest of the flock as another silent, telepathic debate occurred, albeit a brief one. All of the birds turned to the rider at once. "We have changed our minds. We really, really like the explosives."

Sellas simply frowned at this, but said nothing. Say what you will about the Starman cultist, but for a religious fanatic, she could be surprisingly compromising. The birds were eager to test out a few more, and did so, but were begrudgingly convinced that it was best to not waste the grenades since while there were quite a few, it was still a finite supply. What were once highly effective scouts but among our weakest fighters had suddenly become devastating airborne weapons.