On the west shore of the Red River, the boy and his horse lay in a gruesome heap. Ben and the others dragged the rowboat safely onto the shore and made their way towards the scene of the fight.

"Quite a lot of dead dogs about, aren't there?" said Ross, looking down distastefully at one of the hounds. "I was never fond of these beasts."

Ben ignored him and kneeled next to Patrick, checking the boy's pulse. "He's still alive. Help me." the soldiers next to him shouldered their rifles and lifted the dead horse off the boy.

Ross walked over and grimaced. "They did quite a job on him didn't they?" Patrick was covered in scrapes and bites, face almost unrecognizable because of all the blood.

"Oh, alright," he continued, "I'm not heartless. Get him in the boat and take him to the doctor. Ainsley will save him if there's anything to save."

Ben went to grab one of the boy's arms, to help carry him to the boat, but the Admiral intervened. "Just let one of my lads do it. I need you to be in my eyesight."

"How long until we clear that bridge? I don't want the Mastiff to get scratched up." Ross asked one of his men.

The man, a sergeant, Ben gathered by the insignia on his collar, responded promptly. "We brought down some gunpowder with us in the rowboat, we'll use that to blow the left side of the bridge. Once the boat returns from delivering the injured man we found, we'll take care of the remnant across the way."

"No need." said the Admiral. "This river's not big enough for us to turn the ship around anyway, it would be a waste of powder. Take the west end of the bridge down, I just don't want her getting the coat of paint scratched up.

Ben rubbed the horse's muzzle in sympathy. He hated seeing animals in pain. The horse had a gunshot wound right between the two front legs. Ben figured it was what killed it, with the wound bleeding out.

He watched the men putting the injured boy on the boat, from his seat next to the horse. That was when he heard the low whine. One of the hounds was still alive, if barely.

Ben hurried over to the dog, a red and white-colored breed he could not name. "Easy boy," he said, taking off his coat and wrapping the dog in it. "It's okay," he said.

Ben ran over to the rowboat, carrying the dog in his arms. Ross followed close behind. "It's just a damned mutt, Everett, what are you doing. Just leave it with the rest of its kind."

"He's still breathing," he said back, words sharp.

"He?" laughed the Admiral. "You've already adopted him. Yeah, why not, get him to the doctor as well, he needs the practice anyway."

Ben lay the dog in the boat, scratching his head and whispering, "Good boy."

"Done with the theatrics?" asked Ross. He then gathered around the remaining men and had them go and cut down trees from the ridge. While the engineers were busy packing gunpowder and taking down the bridge, Ben would tag along and help the others get building materials.

They climbed the small ridge, following the dog tracks, and found that the grass and forest floor were littered with steps of both human and animal. One of the soldiers, unhappy about this spat onto the ground.

"Looks like there's a hell of a lot more than dogs to contend with."

"Good," said Ben. "I hate fighting dogs."

A runner was sent back to report to the Admiral, while Ben and his two bodyguards got busy following the tracks.

"We should send Mr. Everett back." said one of the bodyguards, a younger woman named Aenda. "We're responsible for his safety."

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The other bodyguard, Pritchett, blew air out of his nose. He was older but Ben noticed he was much the same rank as his companion. Either sloppy or serial order-breaking. That or he did what Ben did in his previous world and unknowingly befriended a spy. Whoops.

"He's fine. Maybe we'll find out what those things on his arms do. Plus, if the great Bahn wanted him out of trouble, he would've kept Goldie Arms here, on the ship."

"For the record." Ben interrupted, "I take umbrage with Goldie Arms. Only the wrappings are gold."

"Yeah? Well, I take umbrage, whatever the hell that is, having to babysit some freak that showed up out of nowhere."

"Believe me, it's no picnic, being arrested for no reason and made to work under threat of violence and death," said Ben.

"Back to the ship then?" asked Aenda, face twisted as if she smelled something rotten. Clearly, Ben was not winning any points with his captors.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous, that was all play-acting for the argument we were having," he said.

A scouting team was sent to follow the tracks, while Ben helped the others cut down trees and carry them towards the beach. The explosives to destroy the remnants of the bridge were set in place, now with the engineers exercising what little patience they had, waiting for the order to come through. However, the Admiral just told them to hurry up and wait.

After a good while of waiting in the sun, and still no scouts, fearing that the noise from the destruction of the bridge would draw undue attention, Admiral Bahn ordered the construction of a small fort. The Mastiff pulled up its anchor and drifted downriver, hiding beyond the river bend, cannons at the ready and trained towards the ridge.

With nothing more to do but sit on the beach and wait for the scouts to return, Ben kept busy by helping build the trench with the rest of the soldiers. He had always liked manual labor, if not the exercise of it, as doing anything repetitive for more than five minutes felt like a very private hell, but the warm and serene feeling after the fact. Plus, it was a good way of building camaraderie with the rest of the troops.

At first, it did not go so well. He was given orders by the sergeant to move some dirt with a wheelbarrow. The sergeant ordered him to dump six wheelbarrows onto a site, and with Ben sweating and pushing, mid-way to dumping the sixth, he was told, "Just eight more to go, buddy."

With the sun beating down and charring the back of his neck and his hands aching, Ben had to restrain himself from beating the smug look off the sergeant's face. Laughing to himself after the emotion passed, Ben remembered how much he hated being ordered around and how easy his temper could grow out of control. A long time had passed since he was a fresh recruit. His patience needed to be dug up again. Fortunately, his bodyguards were busy working as well and did not notice the exchange.

"You alright there, Everett?" asked Ross, posing over the trench, and looking over his troops.

Ben threw a fistful of dirt on the Admiral's boots. "Could get down here and help."

"Oh, I didn't live to become grey by volunteering for hard labor. Plus, somebody needs to keep fresh in case there's a battle." Ross smiled at him, too happy to see Ben working hard.

"You still think I'm on the other side? Whatever that is," asked Ben.

"Yes, I do, but granted, you're a very hard-working spy. Weird and horrible fashion-taste in uniforms, but hard-working nonetheless."

"A spy for what purpose anyhow, and working for who? I have no idea what you're doing here. I really have no idea what I'm doing here. Plus, what kind of spy wears their uniform. And you arrested me. I was just out fishing." said Ben.

"I don't need to hear your mind games spy." Ross chuckled, clearly getting a lot of enjoyment out of messing with Ben.

"This is going nowhere."

"Oh, of course not." responded the Admiral.

After the trench was complete, they set to building the palisades. They cut down trees and dragged them onto the beach. Ben was allowed an ax to cut the tops of the trees into stakes.

The work continued throughout the day, everybody on edge, half-expecting an attack, with the scout team still missing. By the time the sun began to set, they were putting the finishing touches on raising the little observation tower. A sniper climbed at the top, to do a more active kind of observation if the need arrived.

"Not much of a fort. Really more of a mud wall and some pointy sticks," said Ben, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around himself. The Admiral had called for no fire, as to not draw more attention to their position if by some miracle nobody heard the trees being felled and the sounds of hammers.

Somebody patted Ben on the back and handed him a ration can. He peeked inside, seeing nothing, as it was nighttime. He then smelled it, and nearly passed out, earning a laugh from the troops.

"It's not poisoned. Well, those are Haukvesi rations, so it's some sort of fermented fish, some poison should be allowed, but it won't kill you." the Sergeant laughed.

"Thanks," said Ben and cautiously sank a spoon into the can. It tasted worse than it smelled, but Ben kept it down, earning another back pat. It all made him miss the Imperial Army and all his friends. Later, after finishing his food, Ben fell asleep to the sounds of the sailors and marines gambling and telling each other tall tales.