The morning sun barely peeked over the faraway trees, making the dew-covered fields around Artelby seem like they were sprinkled with diamonds. Edwin breathed in the clear air, not a single cloud in the sky obstructing the sun. It was a fantastic day to march to war, so march he did, a force of around 1500 following him out of Artelby’s southern gate.
The core of their forces was made up of second battalion, with ninth battalion’s adventurers to back them up in combat and aid the two banners of scouts in their duties if necessary. The final part of their contingent was most of 3-4, the division’s combat engineer cohort. A small number had stayed behind to help with rebuilding the wall, but as preparing the siege camp was a major objective of the operation, the rest had joined what division leadership had decided to call “Task Force Archer”.
While 5th division’s men and women were ready and motivated to get back in the fight, that motivation largely went to waste. Archer Hill was several days of travel away, and soon the monotony of setting one foot in front of the other had replaced the initial wave of determination. After almost three days of brisk marching, the Harvand forces reached the eastern road that connected Archer Hill and the lands north of the river Aste to Marrad in the south. They were close to the Rift now, the supernaturally straight canyon just a few kilometers further east, but they had no time for sightseeing.
The next morning, the relaxed atmosphere within the task force changed drastically. The forward scouts had returned, and they had brought news. Ahead of them, traveling in the same direction, was what the scouts assumed to be a Marradi reinforcement convoy. A long line of wagons, likely carrying vital supplies for the siege of Archibald’s Overlook, was accompanied by six to eight hundred soldiers. Marrad was bringing in reserves to replenish their losses, just like 5th division had just done. The meeting to decide the course of action was a short one.
“How far ahead are they?” General Asher asked the scout leader.
“If they stopped moving, we could reach them in six hours.”
“How fast are they moving?”
“Slower than us. They don’t seem to be in a hurry, nor have they detected our presence.”
Asher smiled at the gathered officers, though there was no humor in his expression. “We increase the pace. Tell the men we’re catching us some reds.”
--- ----- ---
During the first day of the chase, 5th division shaved off much of the distance to its prey. When evening rolled around, the troops were tired from a day of forced marching, so the commanders decided to stop and rest. The chase continued early the next morning until a few hours later misfortune struck. Where before the road had gently wound its way through woods and meadows, there were several long straights where it cut across flat fields. Arriving at the edge of the forest they were in, Edwin could see flashes of red in the distance, the banners and flags of the convoy bobbing between green grass and blue sky. The Harvand soldiers stopped, continuing only after the enemies were out of sight again, but not long after they followed their prey into the open, another scout report darkened the mood.
Being this far behind the front line, the Marradi weren’t being very vigilant. Their scouting was minimal, and primarily focused forward. At least, that had been the initial scouts’ report. Apparently, they weren’t quite as bad as expected. A Marradi scout had spotted the Harvand column out in the open and the convoy was increasing its speed, determined to stay ahead of their pursuers. That news was most unwelcome, as Task Force Archer had been marching hard for a day now, and there was no way they could reasonably go any faster.
“According to the scouts, the enemy seems to be made up of fresh recruits,” Asher said once the command staff had gathered for an urgent discussion. “Their armor and equipment is also heavier. Archer Hill is two days away. If we can keep our current speed, I doubt they can match it for more than a day. The question is, can we hold out long enough?”
He looked around at his commanders, and the faces looking back at him held nothing but grim determination. Whether they could or not, they would damn well try.
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From that point on, the chase became a miserable grind. The men and women were already tired, but so far, the steadily shrinking distance to their quarry had pulled them forward. Now, the matter was out of their hands. All they could do was grit their teeth and march on, keep setting one foot in front of the other, and hope that their enemies gave up first. Hours passed, and the first few began to flag. Here and there a leg cramped up or a badly set foot sent a soldier crashing to the ground, but they kept going. If someone couldn’t keep up, he was forcibly shoved onto one of the wagons despite their struggle, nobody wanting to be the one to take up one of the few and valuable spaces.
Then came the rain and things got worse. The dirt road became wet, then muddy, the weight of over a thousand Marradi boots and dozens of wheels having already dug up the ground ahead of the Harvand column. As the day turned to night, there was only a single person left between both forces who wasn’t completely miserable.
To Edwin, their speed was nothing to write home about, and with his effectively unlimited stamina, he could’ve kept the pace all the way back to Pel Darni. He wasn’t particularly happy, but that was purely because he didn’t enjoy being wet. Still, the promise of combat on the horizon kept his spirits up, which in turn netted him more than a few sour looks from his tired companions.
Feeling the hot breath of their pursuers on their necks, the Marradi didn’t stop for the night. Unwilling to let them get away, General Asher ordered to do the same. If forced marching during the day was a pain, doing it in complete darkness was utterly dreadful. When the sky turned orange, then blue once more, and the sun slowly lifted its bulbous head over the eastern horizon, Asher’s prophecy came true. The Marradi had reached the limit of their strength and were slowing down. Finally, a scout brought the much-anticipated news: Upon climbing a small hill, the Marradi had stopped and were preparing to make a stand.
The cheers rising from the Harvand column shook the nearby trees, partly because their torment was about to be over, and partly because the general had immediately ordered the formation to slow down. They would already have to fight tired, now the most important thing was to conserve what strength they had left.
A quick plan of attack was made, with 9-1 leading the charge down the center after a softening barrage from the crossbows while 9-2 and 2-3 enveloped the enemy flanks. With most of the mage contingent still in Artelby and the enemy lacking any relevant ranged capabilities, there would be no magical trickery this time. Task Force Archer had the advantage in both quality and quantity, and the piddly rise the Marradi were huddling on didn’t really deserve to be called a hill. All that was left was to walk up there and kick their asses.
--- ----- ---
Edwin coaxed his glaive through a few practice swings, noticing once again that his weapon felt lighter to him every time he picked it up. On either side of 9-1 second battalion’s soldiers were still forming up as the long and narrow marching formation spread out into the wide combat line. Just a few more minutes and everybody would be in position, and he would finally get to fight again.
Someone whistled behind him, and he turned. Bordan was waving to get his attention, beckoning him over. Furrowing his brows, Edwin made his way through the gathered adventurers and joined Bordan and the other commanders just behind the formation.
“What’s going on?”
“They raised the white and black,” Bordan answered, distracted.
“Great. What does that mean?”
“It’s a type of diplomacy signal, like the white flag,” General Asher responded in Bordan’s stead.
“They’re surrendering?”
“No,” Lord Theodor said. “This one is a request for a meeting. Their leader wants to speak with me.”
Edwin scratched his chin, slightly hampered by his helmet’s chin strap. “What could they want?”
“We don’t know,” Asher said. “Maybe they are trying to negotiate some kind of partial surrender, but it is very odd.”
“I should go,” Theodor told Asher. “In our current situation, it would be ill-mannered of me to refuse.”
“Could it be a trap?” Edwin asked, shooting a worried look at the expensive but unarmored traveling clothes Lord Theodor was wearing.
“Very unlikely,” Asher said, and Theodor shook his head in agreement.
“Even we would not use one of these flags in bad faith, and the Marradi put a good deal more importance on these types of matters,” Theodor explained. “Even if they managed to defeat us as a result of such a ploy, they would be stripped of their titles at the very least, possibly even hanged for their shameful behavior.”
The noble tugged at his coat and ran a hand through his blonde hair, then nodded at the gathered officers and marched off toward the enemy formation.
“The flag,” Asher told a waiting soldier who raised a black and white flag in response. Edwin looked toward the enemy. After a few moments, he could make out a single figure emerging from the line of soldiers and walking down the small incline. The two nobles met on the grassy plain, in the middle of both formations. Even Edwin’s enhanced hearing couldn’t pick out what they were saying, especially not over the murmur of the soldiers around him, so he settled in to wait. No more than a minute after they met, the two finished their conversation and returned to their respective sides.
“Well, that was a surprise,” Lord Theodor said once he returned to the command huddle. “Lord Ambertris just challenged me to a duel to decide the outcome of the battle.”