“Morning,” greeted Bellwright as he plopped down beside me on my lookout perch. He held a bowl of soup in one hand, and with the other he offered a bowl for me. I considered that perhaps not all of today would be war and gore as he sat down besides me for breakfast.
“My thanks, Bellwright,” I replied back as I accepted the offered bowl. “Some of those down there seem like they could not pour water out of a boot if instructions were printed on the heel,” I commented as we both looked down upon the enemy. Some of the enemy host were but inexperienced levies, untrained in the ways of war, and it showed in how long they took to form up and get into good marching order.
“Those instructions would only help if they could read,” said Bellwright as he stroked his well-groomed mustache while he idly chuckled at his own joke.
I smiled in turn, appreciating his contribution to the assessment of the enemy. “I have a strong academic knowledge of our adversary and their culture, but I am significantly lacking in any practical experience about them and how well they can fight. Would you be able to enlighten me?”
I set the bait before him, showing my own ignorance and providing him with an opportunity to show the prowess of his worldly experience. He puffed right up at that, unable to resist the temptation.
“Why yes, I would be able to point out a few finer details. I’ve been in a war or two myself, but not with Ulsfarh troops, mind you.” I watched as his demeanor shifted, like that of a grandfather lecturing a gaggle of children on a field trip. “Surely, each of them has a Blessing, but not all of them are well-suited to warfare. Beyond that, it would be impossible to manage an army if everyone had completely different Skills. Like all armies, they would have a need for military doctrine as to what types of troops they field and what Abilities must be mastered to be part of those troop types.”
“And what types of troops do they have, and how would they differ from Adventurers?”
“They don’t have ratings the same way we do, which, as you know, are not merely cosmetic in nature. Our ratings, from Copper to Diamond, actually help unlock or foster latent talents within our Blessing.” He paused to make sure I was paying attention, which to my credit I was listening intently. “An army would go bankrupt trying to evaluate all their troops like that, and so only their elite troops will have any sort of rating in that sense. Mechanically, a unit as a whole will have a rating, with sergeants and officers having slightly higher ratings, with their system having more tiers to it than ours. Ergo, as long as you meet the requirements of the unit, you have the perks provided by the unit, which tend to be stronger if they are in range of their banners.” He pointed out to the valley below us. “And so, take out the men holding the banners, and the army will weaken, bereft of such boons that they depend upon to function as a whole.”
“And how can they afford to train everyone to meet the requirements of a unit?” I asked, for none of this was covered in my books on warfare. “I know one can learn techniques and spells outside of one’s Blessing, but those tend to be slower to activate and weaker, oftentimes requiring incantations or weaving hand signs, where those same Abilities as granted by a Skill do not.”
“Now that is a valid question,” Bellwright continued as he sized me up, looking as if he were trying to assess how far my training went so as to not tell me what I already knew. “Most start out as fresh recruits, and those banners focus on easing the difficulty of those under it to train and to learn doctrine Abilities. Those who show an aptitude one way or another are later sent to more specialized units once they learn the basic requirements for the banner. The tougher the requirements, the stronger the benefit of the banner. And so, they rise from lesser banners to greater ones, each one along the way meant to teach that which is required to advance. They can learn and develop far faster than we Adventurers, but their ceiling is notably lower. The banners somewhat oppress their Blessings, usurping their power and using it to fuel the banner, which then boosts everyone under that banner.
“This means that the war cannot be allowed to continue to great length.” He paused as he held up his right index finger for emphasis. “Levies, conscripted en masse, with ill-fitting armor, cheap spears, and small shields shoved their way, make up half of their host. They work great at tiring out our own troops, even though they will take massive casualties. However, those that survive a battle or two will qualify for a stronger banner, and even though their numbers dwindle, so long as their casualties are not too high, their effective strength remains the same. They may not be able to hold as much territory, but eventually the density of power across what troops remain will be enough to punch a hole into our city.”
“That is a disgusting way to wage war, to throw so many lives into the meat grinder,” I protested.
“Yet effective,” the gnome responded with a wicked grin. “This is one of many ugly truths of war that fails to make it into textbooks. Their nobles care little for lives of troops, only for results, so long as they are not so callous as to provoke mutiny or desertions. And for the levies themselves, the opportunity to advance out of poverty is too good to pass up, and so each gambles with his or her own life. Tack on their devoutly religious culture and government, and each is emboldened that what they do is the will of the gods.”
I pondered his meaning and the implications. I am not sure if I would object so strongly if all I had to look forward to in life was each day being a struggle to fill my belly. Ulsfarh was a theocracy to a strict pantheon of gods, all other gods being deemed heretical. To go against the will of the state would not only be treasonous but also heretical, damning to one in both life and death, at least as far as the people believed. People, like water, took the path of least resistance, and storming enemy ramparts sounded more promising than swinging from the gallows for failure to muster when conscripted.
“So how do we win? Could they not just make more banners if we destroy them?”
“That is the tricky part, for there is no clear answer. Every war unfolds differently and each general has their own strategy to deal with it. The banners themselves are fairly cheap and help daisy-chain the boon to the unit, but there is one standard in particular to each unit and the army as a whole that matters. The aquilifers are the troops that hold the standards, which are extremely expensive to replace, and even then, the unit would be significantly less powerful in the meantime. Destroying those standards is of prime strategic value in any battle, but capturing them is far better. In addition to shaming them and crippling their morale, we could then use it to amplify our own banners while theirs cease to function.”
“I imagine that to be a feat easier said than done.”
“Indeed, that is so. Standards function best when they are located in the center of the unit, so it isn’t like they could park them on a hill somewhere and have a chain of banners to pass the benefit to the troops. Their most elite troops and defensive wards will be located around the standard, and you would pretty much have to surround a unit to force a surrender or find someone crazy enough to claw their way to the center and take it.” He let out a long sigh at that, his eyes glancing up as if he were looking at the ghosts of his past. “I have lost friends that way, ones who thought they were good enough to survive that gauntlet. It is a foolhardy venture, so I would advise against it.”
“I’m guessing then that ‘capture the flag’ is more than just a war game for training.”
“In that you are correct, although that is normally done with defensive structures holding the flag. Such a fortification amplifies the range of an attuned standard, but as a general rule, fortresses cannot move. In that sense, our own defensive troops at the city proper have an advantage of range, and our standards need not be risked upon the field, provided we do not chase them too far from our walls.”
“I don’t have a good sense of scale in this. Could we six take a banner, and if so, under what conditions?”
Bellwright pondered for this a moment, looking at me dubiously as he formulated an answer. “I think we could steal a standard from a division of no more than five hundred men, where they were at best the rank and file troops above levies. We would have to catch them by surprise and take it from a fortification, as taking on such a force in the field would be foolhardy without some clear advantage to our favor. They will have elite troops grossly overqualified for their unit, and their whole purpose will be to endure our assault and to protect the standard. If we lost momentum while surrounded by their host and failed to take the standard in the first exchange, they would overpower us with an active and powerful surge from the standard for its defense. It would be brief, but during that exchange, each of those elite troops would be able to take on a Platinum Adventurer. Hence why I suggest we do not pursue that course of action.”
We sat together in silence for a while as I considered all he had said. Our primary objective was to take out the bridges and disrupt supply lines. If an opportunity should arise such that we could steal a standard, I would consider it.
“Any advice on taking out these bridges? I know they, like most key infrastructure, are warded to The Hells and back to safeguard against brute force and structural fatigue, but surely they have some sort of weakness.” I had the beginnings of a plan, but I wanted more input before I proposed it to the group.
Bellwright pondered this a moment as he stroked his mustache, musing over different approaches to the problem. “Well, the southern bridge is older, smaller, weaker on wards, and less traveled. It fell out of favor when the northern bridge was built. I feel confident we could smash it in good order, but then the enemy would surely know we are here. The northern bridge is the main thoroughfare. That one dwarfs the southern bridge and would have maintenance areas to access the wards. If we can get to those and disable them, the bridge could be destroyed.”
“What options do we have for exfiltration?” I cautiously tailored my tone so as to not be offensive as I made my point. “The wagon is good and all, but I suspect it is a little slow when it comes to leaving a battlefield.”
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“No denying that,” replied Bellwright seemingly without any offense taken. “It is quiet and it eludes the eye from a distance. I have faster but admittedly far from subtle vessels to get us out of there, don’t you worry.”
“It seems like the trick will be getting from one bridge to the next quickly and undetected.” I pointed in the direction of the river. “Do you have anything that is fast and quiet that can travel the distance between the bridges, which looks to be half a day by conventional wagon? And would you then have enough mana left for our ride out?”
“Not by myself, but if Gulfore helps out on making our little escapades discreet, I could manage that. I won’t have enough left in me for any grand workings for battlefield control though, so you lot will need to be quick about destroying the bridge.”
I nodded in understanding as I looked out below. Long marching columns of troops sluggishly snaked their way through the countryside to form up on the road. With any luck, today would be the first day of true harassment from Blythnin and her forces. Only the vanguards of each force had duked it out yesterday, but now both forces in full would be trading blows. They had superior numbers, but approaching us in an attack formation would grind their march down to a snail’s pace. Sticking to the road in a marching column would make their numerical superiority useless, especially if Blythnin could unleash her fortress upon them like she used during our duel. That would turn into a meat grinder heavily in our favor, as her clones would not count among our casualties.
We sat there together, each alone to his own private thoughts, contemplating the day to come. It isn’t brooding if you are that close together, even if you do have an impressive perch to look down upon the world. I had an idea in mind, one crazy enough it just might work, but it hinged on everyone else being able to handle the roles I had in mind for them.
As the sun inched higher into the sky, the rest of the party made their way to the two of us. First came the twins, each grinning like they had just lifted a coin purse off a fat noble without getting caught. I predicted some headache would come from that, but I decided not to press them as to the cause of their fine moods. Skull came next, already in her full armor with helmet on, despite our relative safety. Perhaps she possessed healthy paranoia that did not count as fear or experience taught her the value of always being armed to the gills. Gulfore came last, performing a short ritual to pack up our campsite.
“So, I have a plan, and I think some of you may actually like it,” I said to those assembled.
“Will it involve gratuitous violence,” asked Rarro.
“Yeah, will we get to blow stuff up, “ asked Garro.
I contemplated their requests with exaggerated expressions, my hand stroking my chin as I looked upwards in thought. “Hmm, probably, unless they decide to pack up and go home.”
The twins shared a look with one another, their grins widening. “You son of a bitch, I’m in,” they replied in unison.
Well, at least half of us were on board, that just left the rest.
“You two will destroy the southern bridge. That will be our opening move. Gulfore will do what she can to amplify whatever explosive spell you two have in mind while also working to keep our approach and retreat quiet.” I turned to Gulfore for approval, and she nodded once in confirmation. “Bellwright will be our ride north to the other bridge, which we will try to get to as quickly as possible without fighting anyone at the southern bridge. This will be taxing upon him, so we cannot expect much from him in any fight. I want Skull to be the bodyguard of the twins, who should work to disable the wards on the bridge. I should be able to take out that bridge, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve that should keep the enemy busy while we wait for the wards to come down. Then Bellwright gets us out of there and we rendezvous back here. Any questions, comments, or concerns?”
Garro raised his hand as high as he could like an over-eager child in school who wanted to impress a teacher with a correct answer to a difficult question. “Ooh-ooh, pick me, pick me!”
“Yes, Garro,” I said flatly, expecting something cheeky to follow.
“What do we do when this whole plan falls apart because of some unforeseen circumstance?” He giggled like the cretin he was, while his cohort twin joined in.
“The same thing we Adventurers always do,” I said with a sigh. “We improvise and murder everything in our way.”
That got amused smiles and a few laughs from the group, and so our foolproof plan that could not possibly go wrong was set in motion.
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Beads of sweat formed on Gulfore’s brow as she concentrated on her workings. A bubble enveloped the six of us huddled on our perch above the southern bridge. Bellwright had brought us in nice and quiet-like, and the guards below had not yet detected the mass of arcane power collecting to the twins.
Not that I expected us to be found out by this point. I am something of an expert of magical traps by now, and what few I had seen on our approach were laughably weak and obvious. A drunk ogre could have stumbled his way through without hitting one. The troops below numbered about two-hundred, and while some were standing sentry, most were lounging around behind flimsy chevaux-de-frise, or wooden spike fences for the rank and file who probably never heard such fancy words before. Certainly, no one had decided that sending out patrols would have been a good idea on account that we encountered none.
A sergeant shouted his lungs out at some poor recruit who must have had something wrong with his belt and scabbard as he fumbled with said equipment. The poor bastard’s day was about to go from bad to worse, as most eyes and ears were keen to bear witness to such a browbeating instead of, oh, I don’t know, an unexpected attack that would wipe them off the map.
The unwitting distraction contributed a great boon to our cause, for while the poor trooper below was fumbling for his sword that he dropped upon the ground, much to the ire of his sergeant, a great runed circle appeared in the sky about a hundred feet above the bridges. The twins were putting their back into this working, each one sweating profusely and with limbs trembling as they channeled more power into their craft.
The men below slowly began to notice, with the sergeant being one of the last as he slowly caught on that something was not right with the reaction his troop had taken to the offered discipline. Most men stared at it in wonder. Some ran away, while one complete idiot ran onto the bridge, directly below the circle, while holding up his spear and jabbing it into the sky impotently.
The sky crackled with energy as a harsh downdraft of wind stormed down upon the area, sending tents and other supplies flying. Men panicked as what few [Mages] they had with them hastened to a ritual to counter the working of the twins. Too little too late, for not even the twins could hold back what was to come, not they would ever feel inclined to withhold destruction.
The runed circle in the sky sputtered, and then disappeared. For a heartbeat, the men below looked relieved. Then horror erased all hope, as the sky shattered, a great void tearing into reality and expelling malevolent energy straight down. A writhing column of purple and black energy smashed into the bridge in its entirety. I know not for sure what fate befell the brave soul who dared to stand against it, but I feel like his fate was much like that of the bridge: oblivion.
The spell unleashed lasted perhaps ten seconds, stopping as suddenly as it began, and the sky mended itself as if nothing had ever disturbed the natural order, completely indifferent to the destruction below. A deep cylindrical pit was all that remained while water poured into it. Great plumes of steam rushed outwards from the edge of where the spell hit, and those men caught within that expanding cloud screamed as flesh cooked on their bones.
We all gazed in awe at such raw destruction. Even the twins seemed cowed by what they had unleashed, their smiles abated while they took in the entirety of what they had wrought.
“Time to go, ladies and gentlemen,” I commanded as I tugged at the twins.
The camp was in complete disarray, and with our objective complete, we scurried away to the northeast a few hundred yards where we would be out of sight.
It was Bellwright who took the lead here. “To the river,” he exclaimed while pointing in the inescapable direction we should head. He ran that way as fast as his little legs could carry him, the rest of us jogging along to keep pace.
At the water’s edge, he muttered to himself while he reached for a runed copper rod on his person. Holding it out towards the water, he closed his eyes in concentration while he began his own working. Wisps of magical essence coalesced in the air in front of us, weaving themselves into tendrils that defined shape, an outline of a boat bigger than a gondola but not quite like a knarr. Color poured forth from the edges, giving mass to the form, and once completed, it plopped down a few inches into the water from where it had formed in the air.
We climbed in, Bellwright seated at the tiller. A smooth and rounded metal box was positioned there, and using the same rod as before, he inserted it into an impression in the box and turned it like a key. Something within roared to life as bidden by its master, the frequency long and the rumble low, much like purring.
From within his clothes, Bellwright pulled out some goggles and equipped them properly to his person. “Hold on tight,” he shouted while he cracked his knuckles. The purring increased in pitch and frequency, and with a sudden jolt we surged forwards, several of us not expecting it and nearly tumbling. Naturally, I myself would not have been caught so flatfooted and did not fall prey to the same folly. However, Skull slamming into me caught me off guard and we both almost ended up sprawled out on the deck.
Bellwright steered us out to the middle of the river. We traveled at great speed, perhaps on par with what I could accomplish horizontally as a dragon in flight without a boost from taking a dive. I counted ourselves lucky that we did not have to worry about rapids or waterfalls, but I would at least like to think that Bellwright would have chosen a different vehicle had such been the case. However, looking at him, seeing a gleam in his eye and the ear-to-ear smile on his face as we rushed along like a stone skipping on water, I suspected he would have welcomed the challenge.
I used my sensory Skills to watch ahead for patrols, but none were near enough to the river to detect us. Two miles from the bridge, I had Bellwright cease powering the boat, letting the current take us while Gulfore kept up a barrier to keep us undetected. Only those looking closely at us would see the shimmer of the outline of the bubble of protection she made, but with the way the light caught off the water, most observers would hopefully dismiss it as a trick of the light.
We coasted up to the middle of the northern bridge where the gap between piers widened a little to give access to the bridge ward control. Bellwright dismissed the boat to conserve mana and to help ensure we were less conspicuous.
“Right then, you lot rest here a bit while I make my way to shore. I am going to place explosive traps on the bridge and then cause a ruckus in camp.” All eyes were on me, much to my satisfaction that no one got distracted or over-eager for mayhem. “Wait until I begin my distraction before you bring the wards down, or every [Mage] around will be on you within minutes. Does everyone understand the plan?”
Nods followed all around, and after smoothing out a few details of how things should go down, I shimmied off the edge and into the water on the upstream side. The current was gentle here, not enough to wash me downstream so long as I didn’t let myself get exhausted. It took me half an hour to make my way near shore, having to pause twice when patrols walked across the bridge. I rested for a few minutes before making my opening move.
“Alright then, let’s see what you can do.”