Gareth was well aware of how Treon operated. Hetnia might be a backward duchy with only a handful of real strongholds, but his original home province of Nevielle was not so poor. Places like Treon were a dime in a dozen, and while they didn’t benefit from the concentration of power that the only city in the south did, they had plenty of resources to pull from.
The Battle of the Swamp, as it was being called, had shown that while Treon’s soldiers weren’t pushovers, they didn’t meet the standards of Haylich’s better corps. This should have been good news, but it only made Gareth more suspicious. How was it possible that this was all Treon had to offer? It wasn’t.
The Air Force is by far the most dangerous opponent, but they are stuck behind the walls to protect the Count. We might be in a different situation if he had been smart enough to send them to interfere instead. But it shouldn’t be the only elite available to them.
Treon had a Magic Tower known for its talented water mages, who had not stepped on the battlefield as far as he could tell. Yes, the General had a couple of mage corps available to him, as seen toward the end of the battle, but they were the classic, run-of-the-mill Journeymen casters. Nothing to write home about.
And so, Gareth skulked around the enemy camp, wearing one of their uniforms and blending in with little trouble. He was an old hand at looking busy enough not to be bothered. His days as a squire had been spent chiefly polishing armors and avoiding the castle’s master-at-arms, and the first thing he learned was that to look too busy was to bring scrutiny, as much as to look too carefree.
Since he still had his other mission, Gareth didn’t wander far. He kept close enough to Smith to feel his aura at the edge of his senses while he looked around surreptitiously.
Passing by another busy soldier, Gareth made sure to look commiserative and get behind him. Across all armies, it was universal that those in the middle of the ranks thought they could do a much better job than the generals but were often relegated to minor tasks. Thus, they bonded with fellow officers who thought they deserved better. This allowed him to move through the deeper parts of the camp without scrutiny.
He walked with practiced ease, blending seamlessly into the bustling activity. His keen eyes darted around, taking in the details, searching for any hint of a secret weapon or powerhouse they might be hiding. Frustration gnawed at him as he found nothing but the expected chaos. He was so sure that there had to be something more to this army that he couldn’t just walk away without finding it, but so far, it eluded him.
Eventually, his wandering brought him close to the heart of the camp, where a cadre of mages was meticulously working on the warding scheme. The area was a hive of activity, with casters busy carving runes, resetting wards after the unexpected fight, and enhancing their defenses even further, turning the hill into a veritable fortress. Gareth felt the itch to call upon his lightning and be done with the whole thing, but his hunch that something more was going on required patience, so he kept looking.
A mage, clearly harried and overworked, mistook him for a common soldier. "You there! Help me with this," he barked, pointing to a heavy stone inscribed with complex runes.
Annoyed but careful not to show it, Gareth stepped forward without hesitation, adopting the demeanor of a dutiful soldier. "Yes, sir," he replied, lifting the stone with apparent effort. He knew better than to let his strength and knowledge show, but as he held the stone, he recognized the explosive runes being carved into its surface. The mage didn't offer any explanation, and Gareth kept his mouth shut, focusing on maintaining his cover. He sorely wanted to drop the bomb, but that risked setting the runes off, and even he wasn’t sure he could survive it at point-blank range.
The task would have been almost impossible for an ordinary soldier, and Gareth made sure to fake shakes in his arms by the time the mage was satisfied. He set the stone down carefully, ensuring it didn't jar and activate the runes prematurely. Technically, it couldn’t happen without a sudden rise in mana levels, but he wasn’t about to bet the idiot had done his job well.
With that done, he got the hell away from the insane mage who would let an ignorant soldier handle such a powerful explosive.
Is that what I was looking for? Reports certainly hint at a prevalence of these things wherever the loyalists went through, but they haven’t been a problem so far because of our divination division… But if we didn’t have that, we would have suffered heavily in every town, with much smaller ones at that. If they are preparing stones this large… It could be enough to blow up a chunk of the army. Especially if they placed them on the path of a charge. They’d be able to repay us for the loss of the cavalry.
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As he straightened up, he caught sight of Smith skulking around the perimeter of the mage area, clearly on his own mission.
Their eyes met briefly, a silent understanding passing between them. Neither acknowledged the other openly, as they knew better than to draw attention to their presence. With a slight nod, they moved away, continuing their separate tasks.
He’s an annoying, arrogant bastard, but he’s good at what he does and seems genuine enough in his loyalty. I’ll give him a chance to see if he can pull this off.
Gareth resumed his stealthy reconnaissance, eavesdropping on nearby mages. He overheard several worried conversations about how easily the Hero had dispelled their magic and how the last-minute decision to engage in battle had meant the corps couldn’t bring the best to the table, which cost them severely with the destruction of the mounted force. The mages spoke in hushed tones, voicing their frustrations and fears behind spells meant to keep their privacy, which were nothing before Gareth’s new senses.
"He's too powerful. Our magic didn't even give him pause. You saw how completely he dispelled [Devastation].” A tall, robed man complained, his voice tinged with desperation.
"If the General doesn't retreat to Treon, we're finished," another responded. "We can bolster the defenses there, make a real stand. If we stay here, we’ll just get boxed in and whittled down. No matter how many more layers of wards we add, we won’t be able to last forever away from a proper supply of mana stones. Most of the vein we found beneath the hill is just too difficult to reach to sustain all the additional protections they made us cast.”
Ah, jackpot. That’s why they are staying here. They found a fucking vein of mana crystals and are hoping it will last long enough for Pollus to get here. Idiots. At least these mages seem to realize the danger they are in, but if the brass is set, there is nothing they can do to change their minds.
It was a pretty good plan, if one believed Leonard Weiss to be an average Champion with a moderately trained army behind him. Especially since it had the benefit of looking outwardly foolish, and thus would let enemies make easy mistakes. It also explained why his intuition was acting up while the diviners could find nothing. The mana vein had to be pretty deep down, and their main focus had been mapping movements between the camp and Treon rather than below the hill.
Retreating to the city and reinforcing its defenses might not be a perfect strategy, and it would certainly meet censure among the noble circles, but it would have given them a real chance of lasting long enough.
Now, it was just a matter of how long it took for the Revolution to dislodge them from here.
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A couple dozen men might not be much compared to an army made of thousands, but the sheer level of disruption they could cause if they put some effort into it was a sight to behold.
People rushed everywhere around the camp, trying to plug gaps in the reconnaissance rounds or check on shipments that were reported as tampered with.
It was apparent enough that something out of the ordinary was going on, and Gareth gave it an hour or two before the General started getting suspicious and imposed order. Still, he and his conspirators were free to move unnoticed for the moment.
He hurriedly returned to the mage area, only to be pulled into the shadows of a seemingly empty tent.
"Everything is ready," Smith whispered urgently. "We just need a spark to light the flame. I replaced several of the exploding runes meant for the outside with fakes. The real ones are here in the back, but I haven't managed to get the mages guarding the ward to leave so I can get them in.”
Gareth's mind whirred as he assessed the situation. His eyes flicked around the area, and he noticed the same rude mage he had helped earlier with the explosive stone. An idea formed in his mind.
"I'll handle it," he said, "Wait for my signal.”
He walked over to the mage, adopting a contrite expression. "Excuse me, sir," he said respectfully. "A Captain from the artillery corps told me that something was wrong with the stones and that they need a mage to get a look at them.”
The man looked annoyed and initially waved him off. "I'm busy, soldier. Find someone else.”
Gareth feigned nervousness, adding in a lower voice, "The Captain mentioned that the General is supposed to come for an inspection soon.”
The mage's eyes widened slightly, and his demeanor changed immediately. "Why didn't you say that earlier?" he snapped, grabbing his fellow. "Come on, we need to check this out before the General arrives. We’ll be the ones in trouble if there is something wrong with those damn stones.”
As the two mages hurried off, cursing Gareth for not informing them sooner, he turned and made to leave, casting a glance back to see if anyone else was watching. The lone remaining mage guarding the warding scheme eyed him suspiciously, but Gareth kept his composure, walking away slowly.
From behind the man, Smith crept in silently and, with a swift, practiced motion, bashed the guard on the head, a swirling breeze circling the staff he had used. The mage crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
“No refinement.” Gareth sniffed.
“It did the job,” Smith replied, rolling his eyes.
The two men wasted no more time. They moved quickly, placing the explosive stones among the warding schemes, making sure they were well-hidden but positioned for maximum damage.
With their task complete, they hurried away, blending back into the camp. They gathered their men, who were already on edge and ready to move, and took them to the opposite side, where fewer people were likely to stumble upon the odd group of wounded soldiers. Gareth pulled out his communication stone. Coordinating the escape without it would have been much more challenging, and he thanked the Light every day that Archmage Franklin had joined them.
"Requesting pick-up," he whispered into the stone.
Several shadows materialized around them a minute later, causing the men to startle. The spirits didn’t bother waiting for them to recover, and Gareth could admit to having some fun watching the men so uncomfortable. Darkness enveloped Gareth, Smith, and their men, ready to whisk them away.
Just as they vanished, a series of explosions rocked the camp. The sound was almost deafening, and a second later, a much louder one followed. Flames burst into the sky into a cascading, catastrophic ward backlash, which incinerated everything around the camp.
By then, the rebels were far away, their job done.