The victory at Stonebridge brought some much-needed enthusiasm to the troops. Leonard knew his men would follow him into hell, but armies operated just as much on morale as on supplies.
Low enthusiasm hadn't been a problem so far—not with the numerous victories they had notched one after the other—but Woodsman’s Town had brought them back to reality and made many realize that they were still up against the rest of the kingdom, even should they manage to conquer the entirety of Hetnia.
Stonebridge was a small town, more of a village really, but since it had been defended by an entire Royal Army Corp, one that had the time to prepare the field to their advantage, Neer and Gareth’s victory had reassured the hesitant that even without Leonard taking the field, the Revolutionary Army was more than capable of standing up against its enemies.
The victory was even more noteworthy as it was punctuated by a Master-level Blessing from the System. Damien gleefully spun the news that the Light directly interfered in their favor to the furthest corners of their nascent state.
His tale didn’t mention that the new Master had also needed to spend several days working on his fine control after his physical strength shot through the roof. That would break the fantasy.
“How’s it going?” Leonard asked Gareth, sitting down next to him below a large oak tree, enjoying the breeze and the fact that, for once, there wasn’t anyone vying for his attention. Just a silent clearing and his friend.
Gareth scratched at his stubble pensively, “Much better than at the beginning. Your suggestion to work my way through basic exercises first before trying to do my usual routine helped. I forgot how much things change when you go up a tier, though the disparity between Journeyman and Expert is much less than from Expert to Master.”
Leonard chuckled, remembering his own fumbling once he got to Champion. It was the entire reason he had needed Nemas to save him. He could have carved his way through the Darkwood by himself, but the damage it would have done to the ancient forest would have been comparable to what the Incursion was causing.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how much more I can do now. I remember my old teacher telling me that to reach the fourth Blessing was to step into a realm apart from mortals, one where things started to make less and less sense, but I still didn’t expect it.” Gareth answered.
Leonard leaned back, staring at the sky with a distant look, “I didn’t have the luxury of taking my time, and so once I stopped freaking out about the summoning, the Whiteguard put me through the paces. Those old men don’t play around when it comes to their reputation, and they wouldn’t let me fight until they were sure I could hold my own.”
Gareth looked surprised but kept quiet, likely knowing this was a rare moment. Leonard seldom spoke of the early days, as the complete lack of agency and the pain of being ripped away from his life had turned them into a haze. That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the few good things. The ancient Paladin Order of Haylich was made up of real warriors who freely gave their lives for the realm's safety, and they took good care of him.
“The Grandmaster of the Order, particularly, enjoyed beating me into the ground. He always did it in front of large crowds so that I would be pushed to get better by my frustration even more than the distant threat of the Void could. At the time, I hated him.” Leonard confessed, but a fond smile stretched his lips, “He was an arrogant bastard, and he enjoyed humiliating me more than anyone else, but he was also perfectly aware of my situation and tailored his teachings to how quickly I was growing, never once trying to impose something just because of tradition.”
At the time, showing up the old man had been more important to him than fighting against the tides of world-ending monsters. It was weird how quickly the mind could adapt when there was a real, tangible goal to achieve.
“The first time I managed to land a blow on him, I felt like I could do anything. I had just become an Expert, but my control over the Light outstripped my rank. He hadn’t expected me to be subtle after I charged at him without rest for months.” Leonard chuckled. Those were easier, more naive times. Thinking back on it, his acceptance of the status quo had been borne there. His bonds with the locals and their indifference to the plight of the slaves had made it hard for him to campaign against it, especially since there was a much more immediate threat he needed to deal with.
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“I heard he was a great man but that he retired after the Incursion was repelled, having been prevented from fighting by royal decree,” Gareth commented, removing pieces of his armor and dropping them on the ground beside him.
“Oh, yes. He hated having to stay in Mellassoria while there was a war going on. He was made for battle. A mean bastard, too, but he knew how to fight and is still, to this day, the best swordsman I have ever encountered. If we fought without the advantages of our Blessings, he likely could still beat me up. But he saw the writing on the wall and decided to dedicate himself to the raising of the next generation of Paladins rather than butt heads with the Royal Court. He knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to do something about me.” Leonard’s voice took a faraway quality as he thought back to his last time in Mellassoria as a lawful subject.
“He tried to warn me. He told me it was unlikely the Prime Minister would allow me to run around without something to hold over my head, but he thought they’d offer me a pretty bride to tame me. I didn’t tell him about Belinda, after all. Maybe things would have gone differently if I hadn’t been with her, but I don’t think so. I wouldn’t have accepted a woman explicitly meant to tie me down anyway.” Then, remembering who it was he was speaking with, he made to apologize but was stopped before he could.
“I know perfectly well what it means to love someone and lose them. I simply didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. Both emotionally and physically.” Gareth replied, tone dead.
They stayed in silence for a while, each contemplating just how different life could have been, but eventually set that aside for more immediate concerns.
“How would you like a spar? I still need to work on my hand-to-hand. I exploded a tree the last time I punched without holding back.” Gareth asked, standing up and tending a hand to Leonard, who smiled and took it.
“Let’s do something about that, shall we?”
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“Frankly, our biggest problem at the moment is that we cannot be everywhere at once. Our main thrust towards Treon is quite successful, and we are likely moving faster than General Locke is prepared for. The last reports say that he has finally managed to leave the city, but he’s still being stymied at every stop because of all the toadies Count Luster-Treon has filled the military's upper ranks with.” Damien reported, reading off a series of letters full of dense script.
“I thought the General had full control over the military?” Oliver asked in surprise.
“He did, and still technically does, but as part of the negotiations to move the majority of the forces away from Treon, he had to allow the Count to appoint a series of important positions, and while he did curtail most of their influence, and indeed has kept the elite squads free to act as we have recently seen, that meant he had to keep all the nobles with himself.”
Leonard snorted. General Locke was a competent commander on the field, and he had learned enough politicking to handle the worst excesses of Treon’s nobles, but nothing could stop the sheer disruption that a band of spoiled scions who thought your very serious military campaign was a jolly excursion could bring.
Damien cleared his throat, and the attention returned to him, “As I was saying, the problem is that we cannot be everywhere. Several of our agents have reported significant unrest in almost all towns with a slave population worth noting. While we have managed to spark up a few rebellions, especially in the north-east thanks to the success of Minister Barks’ operations, most remain unable to capitalize, simply because the local nobles have refused the call to send their garrisons to aid General Locke or Count Pollus and thus would still be able to eliminate any insurgency.”
It’s very ironic that the only reason those nobles are still in power is that they are too selfish and greedy to heed the call of their superior, considering that it is the entire reason they are under threat.
“Isn’t that better for us? I would have thought having to deal with a hostile population within their walls would lead to fewer troops being sent to the main armies, which means we’ll have easier fights.” Gerard commented, and while it was a pretty callous statement, Leonard agreed.
Damien shook his head, however, surprising him. “It might look like that at first glance, but our greatest issue at the moment is not how powerful our enemy is—we have them beat simply because of our elites—but how quickly we can defeat them before the rest of the kingdom realizes how big of a threat we are, and start sending their much better-equipped men to fight.”
Leonard stayed silent, wanting to see how his advisors and commanders dealt with the situation. He had his own position, of course, but he had found that if he spoke too soon, people just tended to agree with him.
“Frankly, I still don’t see the problem. Yes, we’ll need to handle a series of fortified towns and villages along the way to fight Count Pollus, but doing so after we have taken Treon shouldn’t set us back too much. The nobles still holding onto their lands will probably run away once they see us coming.” Gerard countered.
“But then we’d have to deal with a much bigger army. If we could just send a few infiltration squads in strategic locations on the path north from Treon, we’d be able to steal a march on the Count once he realized the trap he’s fallen into in the east and directs his army to the west.” Damien countered, and it seemed the intelligence division was on his side from the way the two other men who had come in with him nodded.
Turning to Leonard, Gerard shook his head, “Grand Marshal, the swamps we’ll have to go through to Treon are already a threat enough to our speed. If we shed all our elite squads, we’ll be sitting ducks to the much more familiar men of General Locke.”
Leonard waited for a moment to see if anyone else would interject before replying, “I’m happy you have come around to the idea of having smaller, more uniquely trained squads rather than a simple, larger army.” That was a light chastisement, and his General took it in good spirit. “But I’m inclined to agree. We need the more mobile squads to roam ahead of us as we move through the swamps, as it is the only possible place for General Locke to halt us. Our diviners haven’t noticed anything threatening so far, but if his fame is even half deserved, he’ll know he needs to stop us before we get to Treon proper.”
Immediately, all the fight left Damien. He nodded in acceptance, apparently more than happy even though his proposal had been rejected.
Leonard had to wonder how much of what he had said had honestly been his position and how much had been a test. And if it was a test, for whom had it been?