Sifting through the rubble of a burned village wasn’t a pleasant task, but Charry had been ordered to ensure the main army’s path was free of obstacles, and he’d be damned if he left a trap behind.
He had finished combing through what had once been a granary and found several shoddily carved stones with runes that would react explosively to a significant increase in ambient mana. They weren’t much of a threat, with a radius of at most five feet, and they only went off when something was cast in their vicinity, but if the loyalists had the time to prepare those, they certainly had the time to set up something actually dangerous.
“Captain, we’re done looking through the eastern part of town. It looks like they just gathered everyone they could and left without a fight.”
Charry nodded in thanks to the man, turning the report over in his mind. There was something going on that didn’t convince him about this whole thing. It wasn’t that he had fallen for the revolutionary propaganda that the kingdom’s nobles were all actively malicious. Wasting so much time to collect everyone on the way to Treon felt too different from what he was used to seeing.
No, the Royal Army wouldn’t do something like this without a reason. Much more likely, they had decided to deny the revolution more fresh bodies. They might even be right, considering the conversion rate between conquered lands and recruits.
Yes, that sounds better. I still haven’t figured out something, but I can believe they are simply removing possible rebels from our path.
Rifling through his pockets, Charry took out the little device that made this whole operation possible. Archmage Franklin had been working hard to produce useful tools for every elite squad, and her latest invention—apparently inspired by something the Hero had said—made coordinating much more manageable.
That the young woman had also found the time to hold classes for all those interested in learning magic only made her worth rise significantly in everyone’s eyes.
Pushing some mana into the polished, rectangular stone, Charry spoke out loud, feeling a bit foolish even though he had done this several times, “This is Team 0 speaking. We have combed through Rattleshack and found nothing but explosive runestones and burned-out buildings. Over.”
A few seconds of silence passed, which he knew to expect and yet always made him cringe—he wasn’t used to speaking to a stone! Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a voice answered, “Team 0, this is Command Outpost Alfalfa. We have received your report. Wait for more instructions while the diviners complete the sweep. Over.”
And that was that. With the portable communication stones—an innovation of the likes Charry had never seen before and something sure to revolutionize warfare and civilian lives— the burden of leadership had been lifted off his shoulders. Now he could sit around and wait for new orders from people with a much better idea of the enemy’s movements.
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“I should know better than to tempt fate. Fuck.” His muttered imprecation drew a few chuckles from his men, who were tiredly setting camp in the middle of a particularly insidious patch of swamp.
Being chased down by a very angry, very big salamander had not been the plan, but when a ton of mud-slinging monster emerged from the ground without notice, it tended to make everything else fall to the wayside.
Charry and his men had been lucky enough that the salamander wasn’t hungry. It just wanted them out of its territory. And while he could have ordered them to stand and fight, they would have wasted too much mana taking it down—if that was even possible.
My senses aren’t the most developed, but I can tell when something is a lot stronger than me. That thing was at least in the middle of Expert rank.
The detour had cost them a lot of hard marching through the swamp afterward, but they had managed to make it to the rendezvous point, where the other nearby teams would converge before they made their assault on Hillcrest, the last significant town that stood on their way to Treon.
“Will we fight the slavers tomorrow, or are we just supposed to keep pushing them back forever?”
Charry tiredly turned around. It was a young man who had spoken, a recently freed slave, if he remembered correctly, who had a natural talent for the sword and quickly caught up to those who had much more time to train.
I expected him to make trouble sooner or later. To his eyes, we’ve done a lot of running about and very little of actual substance. But if I had to stop and explain the reason behind everything I do to all my men, I’d never get anything done.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“We will do what we are asked to do. If the command tells us to attack the town, I’ll personally lead the charge. If they tell us to hide here, we’ll do that.” He answered calmly but firmly. There was no reason to make a fuss about an enthusiastic soldier, but he wouldn’t accept anyone questioning his actions. That way led to anarchy and General Doomspear had been clear that discipline had to be maintained. Charry knew all too well the consequences of being too lax.
The kid visibly swallowed his first retort, showing he had more brain than it looked. “I understand we have orders, but letting them take all the people seems wrong. There must be thousands of slaves being herded toward Treon right now.”
“Listen,” Charry sighed, his tone softer. “Not all operations are visible on the ground. There’s a bigger plan at play, and we need to have faith in the people above us to do their part. Our job is to follow orders and trust that what we’re doing here contributes to the larger goal.”
Before the young man could respond, Charry’s communication stone chimed. He held it up, his heart sinking slightly as he felt the familiar tingle of mana. “This is Team 0,” he said, his voice steady. “Go ahead.”
“Team 0, we have detected rapid movement from the north towards your camp,” the voice from Command Outpost Alfalfa reported. “Prepare for a possible attack. Over.”
Charry’s stomach tightened, but he didn’t let his men see his anxiety. “Understood. Over.” He turned to his men, his voice rising to command their attention. “Everyone up! We’ve got movement from the north. I want the rangers to give me specifics and everyone else to prepare to defend our position!”
The camp burst into controlled chaos as soldiers grabbed their weapons and started setting up. Charry quickly assessed their situation, his mind racing through possible scenarios. The information wasn’t that an enemy had been spotted but that a group of people was rapidly coming their way. Of course, they were likely to be enemy soldiers who had somehow known their exact position. However, considering their closeness to the road, was it not possible that something else was going on?
“Hold your fire!” He yelled, taking a gamble and deciding to wait until the rangers could report with more detail.
“Captain, look!” Elara pointed to the north, where figures were emerging from the underbrush. As they drew closer, it became clear he had made the right call. They were ragged, emaciated, and desperately running towards the camp.
“Slaves,” Charry muttered, instantly recognizing their garb.
The slaves saw the soldiers and began rushing toward them, shouting for help. Charry’s eyes narrowed. It seemed too good to be true. His instincts screamed trap, but he knew they couldn’t risk it.
“Should we help them, Captain?” one of the soldiers asked, echoing the sentiment of many.
Charry nodded, his mind working rapidly. “Form a perimeter around them, but don’t get too close. Be ready for anything. I’ll contact command for more information.”
He activated the communication stone again. “Command, this is Team 0. We have what appears to be a group of slaves running toward us, requesting help to transfer them away from the frontlines. Do you have any intel on this?”
The response was swift. “Team 0, we have reason to believe the slaves are real, but there’s a contingent of royal soldiers armed to the teeth right behind them. Be prepared for an imminent attack. Over.”
Ah, that’s where we get fucked in the ass. Good to know.
Charry’s jaw tightened. “Understood. Over.” He turned to his men, raising his voice to ensure everyone could hear. “The slaves are real, but there’s an enemy force right behind them. We need to coordinate their rescue and prepare for an attack.”
The tension was palpable as his men adjusted their positions, some moving to help the slaves get away while others reinforced their defenses. Charry quickly divided his forces, sending Elara and a small group to guide the slaves to safety while he and the rest prepared to greet the enemy soldiers.
The first royalists appeared as the last slaves were brought behind the lines. Charry’s eagle eyes scanned the advancing enemy, noting their disciplined formation and the glint of steel in the darkening sunset.
“Steady!” he called out, bringing his trusty rifle to the ready. “Hold your ground!”
More and more men streamed into the clearing, wading through the mud, and the reason for their confidence in attacking a rebel position became clear. This was an entire Corp, probably tasked with clearing a nearby village. Dozens of men kept coming until there must have been hundreds. Charry swallowed, wishing very hard General Doomspear was there with them.
I already informed command. If they have someone who can save us available, they’ll come. Until then, I need to act as if we’re on our own.
“Now! Fire!”
The royal soldiers also called the charge, their boots sloshing through the thick mud. Mana bullets cut through the air, mowing down the first line, but those behind them took their place. Charry moved quickly along the defensive line, scanning for weak points in their formation.
“Focus your fire on the flanks! Tanks, prepare for contact!” Charry commanded, his voice clear and steady despite the mounting dread in his chest. He took aim with his rifle, picking off an enemy marksman who was about to shoot down one of his men.
The battle unfolded with grim determination on both sides. Charry's men, though outnumbered, fought bravely, resolved to defend the fleeing slaves. Mud-splattered and weary, they held their ground, exchanging volleys of mana bullets with the advancing royal soldiers. Each burst of gunfire illuminated the battlefield briefly, casting stark shadows on the twisted trees and stagnant water.
Men fell on both sides, their cries mingling with the din of combat. Charry's heart ached with each loss, but he forced himself to remain focused. His rifle cracked again, taking down another enemy. His movements were fluid, almost instinctual. He was close to becoming an Expert. If only he could survive another day.
“Captain, they’re pushing through on the right!” Elara’s voice cut through the chaos, having come back sometime during the fighting.
Charry turned, spotting the breach. “I’ll reinforce them! Elara, take a team and prepare to cover the slaves’ retreat! Make sure they’re safe!”
Elara nodded stonily, understanding that he was giving her a chance to leave the battlefield alive and, in doing so, ordering her to leave him behind.
Charry's attention snapped back to the enemy, who were now dangerously close. He aimed and fired again, the recoil of his rifle a familiar comfort amidst the chaos.
The royal soldiers showed no signs of relenting. They kept marching forward with no hesitation, their formation tight and disciplined. Charry could see the hardened expressions on their faces, the resolve that mirrored his own. Numbers were in their favor, and if things continued as they were, they’d win simply through attrition. Already, he could see two dozen of his men dead or dying.
His growing dread was palpable. Despite their best efforts, the enemy continued to press forward, and their superior numbers and training were simply overwhelming. Charry kept taking down those who pushed too far ahead, but resignation grew.
That was when the clear sky above their heads rumbled.