“They keep probing us, m’lud. Not enough to be a real attack, but they are still so annoying that we can’t risk regrouping.”

Luke nodded distractedly, dismissing the old scout to return to his position. It wouldn’t do to have his best men away from the observation posts while the enemy was probing them. He had them built for a reason.

“They’re keeping the pressure high. I don’t know how they manage to find us every time, but they obviously have an intel advantage.” He finally said, standing up, and the two lordlings assigned to him—the ones smart enough to know better than to try and order him around and who hadn’t met an ugly end as a consequence—hurried to follow him.

Luke didn’t let that go to his head. He was only being treated so obsequiously because his men knew very well they had been sent out on a suicide mission by the General to slow the rebels down—and of his reputation as a maverick who had survived much worse. While the orders hadn’t explicitly been to sacrifice themselves to do so, it was implied that they should fight to the last man to grant Count Pollus time to reach Treon.

Since Luke, despite his low birth, had seen some success driving the voidlings back and had even personally fought two battles with the Hero, he was widely considered the man with the best shot.

Leaving the little tent village that served as his Corp’s base camp, Luke made for a nearby hill where he could better observe the marsh. It would have made a great observation post, but it was too open for a permanent one. If he augmented his eyesight, he could see Stonebridge, where the enemy was now camped.

“If only we hadn’t lost the bridge,” one of his adjutants complained, and though Luke could agree with the sentiment, he still glared, having been clear that any negative thought was to be kept private. They were already in a deep enough mess without any doomers.

Casting [Eagle Sight] took only a moment of concentration, and Luke could see the buzzing rebel army. He had initially been surprised that they weren’t doing anything to shield their movements from observation, but after several engagements where his men were forced to run lest they be annihilated, he understood they had nothing to fear. Even if he knew exactly what they were up to, without the power to do anything about it, it was useless information.

And I doubt their best stuff is out in the open. I still haven’t found how they were able to overwhelm the cannon battery at Stonebridge. I’m sure it wasn’t the Hero. I had eyes on him, and the Mistress of Shadows is still near Volten.

“Where did the scout indicate they were pushing?” He asked out loud.

“Ah, they are trying to find our weak spots.” One of his noble brats replied.

“They’re trying to close their jaws around us,” Luke tsked, annoyed for not having seen it before. It was one of the Hero’s favorite tactics during the Incursion, too. “They have superior numbers and better intelligence, but we are faster. They cannot leave us behind. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Fuck, we might have to retreat again.”

It would be a significant setback. They were only a few days of forced march from Treon, and the men were already exhausted. However, staying put meant certain death—the Hero might be more merciful if he met an old comrade, but considering what the rumors said he had done to the nobles of the conquered towns, Luke wouldn’t bet his men’s lives on it. He quickly weighed his options and made a decision. Walking down the hill, he gathered his officers for a quick briefing.

“We cannot stay here any longer,” he announced once they were all in his tent, his tone brooking no argument. “If we wait, we’ll be encircled and wiped out. We’ll be retreating in small groups to avoid detection. Each group will take a different route and converge on the village of Hillcrest, a day’s march to the west. That was the red line the General gave me, and I’ll respect it, but sacrificing ourselves now would be pointless.”

A murmur of discontent rippled through the officers, but Luke silenced them with a raised hand. “I know it’s risky, but it’s our best chance. I’ll take the north road, which is the most likely to be attacked. The rest of you will spread out and hopefully reach Hillcrest without meeting the enemy. Take care of your men and get to where you need to be. Dismissed.”

As the officers dispersed to relay the orders, Luke turned to his closest aides, a grizzled veteran named Beor and a young but capable sergeant named Elara. “I’ll need you two to keep an eye on the noble brats. They might not be useful in battle, but their voices are worth twice mine in a meeting with the brass.”

Beor frowned. “Luke, you know the main road is suicide. They’ll surely be watching it. Let me take it. You’re the Captain. The men need you.”

Luke shook his head firmly. “No. If anyone can hold off an ambush and buy time for the others, it’s me. I’ve faced worse odds and come out alive. Besides, I need you to lead the rest of the men if I don’t make it. You’re the only one I trust to hold Hillcrest until General Locke can get there. That’s an order.” He tacked on last, preventing any further complaint.

Beor’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Understood, sir.”

Elara was pale but resolutely stepped forward. “I’m coming with you, then. You’ll need someone to watch your back.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Luke allowed himself a small smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He wouldn’t do her the disservice of sending her away. What they shared might not be love, but there was affection. He would never leave her alone to face her death if the parts were swapped.

They moved quickly, breaking camp and heading towards the main road. Luke’s small group consisted of Elara, the old scout who reported to him earlier that day, and a handful of handpicked soldiers. They made good time through the marsh, the squelching mud and thick underbrush slowing them down but not stopping them. They managed to reach the paved path before noon.

It was enough to put Luke in a good mood. He knew better than to count himself safe, but at least this delay in an attack meant that his men should be able to make it to Hillcrest.

“It’s too quiet,” Elara muttered, looking around shiftily.

“The marsh animals and monsters know better than to reveal themselves with this much movement, m’lady.” The ranger answered distractedly, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

“That’s something at least. I wouldn’t want to have to fight the rebels and a troll tribe at the same time.” A soldier muttered, earning a snort from the scout.

“Trolls don’t get this close to roads. The real problem here is the salamanders. They suck you in through the mud, and before anyone can do anything about it, you have already been digested.”

Luke rolled his eyes, knowing better than to believe any tale, but didn’t interrupt the old man’s amusement. He might as well let off some steam if they had to die.

His enhanced eyes spotted movement from the north only a few hours into their march. He raised a fist, signaling a halt. The squad of revolutionaries was well-camouflaged, but Luke was too paranoid to be caught with his pants down. It helped that the old scout had signaled earlier that something was coming as the winds shifted.

“Get ready,” he whispered, drawing his sword. “We’ve got company.” His men followed his lead immediately, closing ranks and preparing to face off the enemy.

The rebels emerged from the underbrush, weapons drawn. Their leader, a burly man with a scar on his cheek, grinned menacingly. “Well, well, what do we have here? Trying to sneak away, are you?”

Luke managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes this time. A bit of banter was to be expected, but being this cliché hinted that there was something else going on. Likely another group encircling them, even though he couldn’t look without taking his eyes off the man.

“Just taking a stroll,” Luke replied with a smirk, his voice calm despite the tension. “Thought we’d enjoy the fresh air.”

The rebel leader laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to surprise his men. “And you thought to get it here, in a swamp?”

Luke shrugged. “I never said I was a healer. How about you? Enjoying your little revolution?”

The leader's grin widened. “Best decision of my life. Freeing the oppressed, fighting for justice. We even have healthcare and training. You should try it sometime. Much better than what the nobles offer.”

“Ah, that does sound good. Sir Weiss always ensured everyone was cared for during the Incursion.” Luke reminisced, making sure to imply he personally knew the man—even though he had only spoken with him a couple of times. Whether that was true or not, it only mattered that it would make the rebels less likely to kill him or his men.

A young man stepped forward at that, confused. “Why are you helping the slavers, then? You don’t seem like the type.”

Luke's expression turned serious. “I don’t care about the nobility, the slavers, or anyone else. But I have innocent men under my command, whom I’ll protect with my life. They didn’t choose this war, and they’re just trying to survive, same as you.”

The young rebel looked conflicted, but the leader's face hardened. “Can’t do nothing about it then. Surrender now, and no more blood needs to be spilled.” Luke felt a pang of regret.

For all their fervor, these revolutionaries were better people than many nobles he had met. But he couldn’t abandon his duty. “I can’t do that,” he said softly, gripping his sword tighter.

Sorry. He didn’t vocalize it, but the sentiment was understood.

With a resigned nod, the rebel leader raised his hand, signaling to attack. Luke reacted instantly, his sword slicing through the air. The wind howled, blasting a deep furrow in the ground, momentarily halting their charge and giving his men the time to prepare.

Three swordsmen rushed him simultaneously while a mage at the back began casting what looked like fire magic. Luke parried the first blow, ducked under the second, and deflected the third into the first man with a swift motion. He could feel the heat of the fireball as it whizzed past his head, a sudden gust of wind pushing it off course.

“Elara, get the mage!” Luke shouted, engaging the swordsmen with precise, powerful strikes. His blade moved with the fluidity of a dancer, keeping the three unbalanced by playing their relative clumsiness against each other.

It wasn’t that they were bad, per se. In fact, Luke would consider them all pretty talented if they were his men, and considering that these were likely ex-slaves or peasants, they were pretty good, but he was simply better.

Elara darted to the side, firing shimmering arrows at the mage, forcing him to split his attention. The rest of Luke’s men fought fiercely, digging in with their shields and holding their ground against the onslaught. It was a tactic he had ensured everyone under his command could follow in their sleep, and it paid off.

For a while, it seemed like they might prevail. Luke’s skill with the sword was unmatched, and his men fought with the desperation of those who knew their lives depended on it. The rebels were better armed, and their individual quality was higher, but Luke more than balanced the scales.

Predictably, that was when a new group of rebels emerged from the back, flanking them and pressing the attack.

“We need to pull back!” The old scout shouted, his voice strained as he fended off an attacker with his daggers.

Drawing on his mana, Luke focused, causing the winds to pick up around him. With a sweeping motion, he unleashed a twister of wind that pushed the rebels back, throwing them off balance.

“Fall back!” he ordered, using his air magic to create a barrier between his men and the rebels.

They ran like the hounds of hell were baying at their back, but Luke could see that the rebels weren’t about to give up just yet.

Using even more mana, Luke lifted his sword, grabbed hold of the sky above his head, and brought it all down.

The air trembled, and a downburst materialized out of nowhere, scattering the rebels away and sending boggy mud flying everywhere.

The attack was expensive to cast, but the effect was undeniable. He could have killed them all with a little more effort, and it looked like the rebel leader knew it.

Struggling to regain his footing, the man glared at Luke. “This isn’t over!”

Luke met his gaze with a steely determination. “No, it’s not. But for today, it is.”

With the path clear, Luke led his men away. They moved swiftly, making their way through the marsh and towards Hillcrest. The battle had taken its toll, but they were alive, and that was all that mattered for now.

He didn’t look at his companions, knowing he’d find a question on their faces that he couldn’t rightly answer.

I can’t say I expect us to lose and that I’m hedging my bets yet, but they’ll thank me later.