"Enter the main hall. It won't be long before more automotrons arrive for another battle," the guards said, pulling open the tall double-doors leading into the secure space.

"Are you guys going to be alright? Whiskey? Do you think we can afford leaving behind your two scouts to help defend the room?" Zan asked.

Whiskey grunted. "Do you really think we can afford sending our allies to the winds?"

Thinking it over, Zan said, "Probably not. But us being a single group is less impressive if our great hall is stormed and torn asunder..."

"Ugh. Fine. Reluctantly, I will order my scouts to help reinforce the door, though I still am not sure about this," Whiskey said.

"I know how you feel. We are worse for the wear. But we have a vital mission to complete. We've linked up with some allies, though. So, we have to keep ahead," Zan said.

Ordering her two scouts behind, the guards expressed their gratitude and opened the way.

Zan and Company thus entered a large room whose center was filled with people, Zan assumed the denizens of the villa. Surrounding the people, protecting them from threats, was a circular ring of spearmen, their tips ready.

"Who is that, who?" a voice called out.

"It is I, Zan of a contracted Martial Order! We have come to liberate the viceroy and bring them outside the confines of this besieged place!" Zan said, letting himself enter his formal mode of social interaction.

"Oh, it is about time!" the voice replied. "Approach!"

Watching as one of the spearmen lowered his weapon and held it at attention, with his free hand he urged Zan forward. Zan came and thus entered into the protected territory. Behind the spearmen, and through some huddled civilians praying for peace, Zan walked up to and kneeled before the viceroy. "Milord. I am Zan. My friends and battle-mates behind. We shouldn't dawdle our breath. We must be away, now."

Frantic, confused, Zan saw as the viceroy's face shifted in mood a dozen times. "Yes. Lead the way, Zan. Take us away from this..."

For the first time in his life, Zan was given free reign of a situation.

Sizing the situation up, Zan considered the elements before him. He had to evacuate a good number of civilians while also giving extra protection to a noble. Looking at his map-in-miniature, a golden path highlighted the route Zan and Company took to get here. They would have to reverse their steps; simply returning the way they had come made the most sense. By now, Colonel Winters and his troops have secured the outside. If any more enemy force were nearby, they are not enough to turn the tide of the battle. Should all of the remaining enemy forced retreat their way into them, Zan considered -- not an unlikely possibility, he knew, judging from the pinch attack strategy Winters clearly intended -- then he might have problems. But Zan did not have the gift of premeditation. How the battle outside fared and where the enemy-in-retreat might flow to, Zan did not know. Therefore, he had to go with his gut. He had to take ease of time and variables into account, but he knew what he had to do: go the way they had come.

"Sire, form your men into two groups: one group," Zan instructed, "will be our spear and rush down anything in our way. The second group will be at our backs, protecting the civilians from potential enemy ambushes. My team and I will direct aid where we can when we are needed. Sound good, sire?"

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"Yes! Yes! Anything, please. Get us away from here, peasant boy!" the viceroy said.

A lapse.

Nothing more than a momentary lapse in the air current. Zan's smile broke for seconds. He recovered, asked himself, 'why is my social status relevant?' Then he beamed his smile. It was a service grin. Nothing more.

Zan decided he would (temporarily) lead the tip as they returned to the same doorway they had come through. Going through, they picked up the door guards and Whiskey's scouts. "How has it been?" Zan asked, holding the still forming battle group up. He had to ask, though. He had to know if the guards had seen any sight of a reforming enemy force. "No, nothing like that, but we have seen odd few golems attempt to charge us. They looked weird. Acted weird, too. We used up a lot of arrows at them but never decommissioned them. So, our arrows are stuck to their bodies, which means we don't have many arrows left."

"Not good," Jiehong said.

"Not good at all," Zan agreed.

Crap! Zan thought. More new golems? What --? No. Calm down. I have no control over the enemy forces. My route-reversal idea is still the best we have. Otherwise, we'll be at the mercy of way too many automotron attacks as we evacuate the people. We have to go through the front. It is what we know and the only place in the villa large enough for everyone. Besides, if we come into danger, Winters will have an easier time rescuing us if we are near the front gates. That is where he is heading anyway!

"Okay, guards, join where you wish on our column. Everyone! Our route remains the same! Spear tip!" Zan yelled, referring to the guardsmen who volunteered for what was likely to be the most battle-prone part of the maneuver.

Groaning as he locked his bike pieces into place, a whirring sound letting Zan know it was operational, Zan drew his blade and pointed it toward the hallway. A surge of golems began to pour from several passages at the end of the mammoth great hall. "Charge! We keep the pace and our momentum! Run the enemy down!" Zan screamed as he urged his men forward and peddled hard on his bike, infusing an amount into it after he gained speed so he slam-rushed the front-facing row of click-clattering creations.

[Magical Reserves Nearly Depleted: 10%] the System let him know. Only ten percent? Feck! Does pushing oneself physically, emotionally, maybe, even, somehow burn magic faster?

As Zan expected, the miniscule amount of magic he infused into his war ride was enough to blast a hole clear through the multi-dozen strong brick of automotrons. 'The enemy is disoriented,' Zan muttered to himself as he looked back to see the surviving golems fractured and unsure of their next tactical movement. The pathway they had taken to get to the great hall was just ahead. Zan, realizing something, had a sudden change of plans.

Waiting for his team to catch up to him, Zan decommissioned a few of the basic model golems. Approaching the viceroy and his team, Zan said, "Guys. I have an idea. We leave the guards to escort the civilians while we take our return path. The enemy will be so focused on the bigger column they won't even think of us discreetly removing the noble through this lesser path."

"Wouldn't this be condemning the men going with the civilians to death if they are overwhelmed by the enemy? Without us, they will have a lot less defensive and offensive power," Jiehong asked.

"No! I love that idea! The peasant boy's idea!" the viceroy said, suddenly sparking up. "I demand you implement it!"

Jiehong looked at Zan without mercy. If eyes could burn!

Staying cool, Zan said, "Remember, Jiehong: Colonel Winters is outside. He will meet the enemy at their backs and overwhelm any host which assaults them at the guardsmen's front."

"I guess..." Jiehong said, reluctantly.

"If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for us. If we encounter trouble we can't handle, we're fecked. You think Winters is going to divert his forces to help little old us?"

"Of course, Colonel Winters would divert forces to help us. This operation is us," Whiskey said.

"Enough!" the viceroy yelled. "Take me from this place! How many times do I have to say it?!"

"Fine... guys," Zan said to the guardsmen. "Our strategy remains the same. My private detail will personally escort our precious noble to safety. Colonel Winters and his volunteer force is outside, locked in pitch battle with the enemy. Hook up with them and crush the enemy!"