We had a plan.

It was a good plan. It had clear goals, allocated resources and even some sensible redundancy measures built in.

I thought it was a good plan. Merlin thought it was a good plan. Drynwyn couldn't give a fuck but agreed, when pressed, it was a good plan.

We were going to carefully skirt the edge of the camp, lose ourselves in the trees, follow the paint blob trail left by the cultivators and seek to meet up with whoever had just offed a wizard. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend', and all that.

As you can see, a solid plan. No obvious weaknesses. No notes.

It was, therefore, mildly disappointing that less than a hundred feet into executing said plan, we ran straight into a Saxon patrol none of us had noticed coming from the opposite direction.

For fuck's sake.

I don't know who was more surprised: us or the five blue-painted Jason Momoa lookalikes we'd just stumbled into.

On instinct, I activated [Personal Space Invader]. This had the advantage of blasting the Saxons far away from me, which was a big tick. But, on the downside, it landed them smack bang in the middle of the campfire of a larger group of Saxons who, once they'd overcome their confusion at the sky raining spearman upon them, identified me as the cause of their woe.

I may have suggested dealing with that initial confrontation a little more stealthily.

"You think?" I swept Drywyn from its scabbard and held it towards the group gathering itself before me. It looked like at least two of the initial five were out for the count, but their loss was more than made up for by the ten others whose supper time I had rudely interrupted.

"Anyone have any ideas?"

I quite liked Plan A, to be honest. You know, the one when we made sure we crept past all the guards without alerting them to our presence? That was a good plan. I could get on board with that plan.

"There's a certain amount of shutting stable doors after the horses have been turned into lasagne I'm not appreciating right now, Big M."

The only good news I could see was that the group of fifteen or so Saxons now spreading out around me hadn't alerted anyone else as to the appearance of an unescorted, redheaded woman carrying lots of lootable items at the edge of their camp.

I imagine everything I represented could only be shared out so far ...

Well, that was a cheery thought.

I tapped into my mana stone earrings and withdrew enough Qi to top up my reserves that had dipped alarmingly after firing off [Personal Space Invader]. My armour was already at capacity, so I pulled as much energy into my offhand as it could hold. I'd still not mastered the art of firing bolts of Qi like that first cultivator I'd met a million years ago - or was it last week - but I was keen to keep trying.

This is not a complete disaster, my dear.

"I mean, I'm fairly broadminded about such things, but even so, I think what these guys have in mind for me is going to be pretty detrimental to my general well-being."

Quite. What I mean is that they've clearly decided to deal with you themselves. I can sense no attempt to alert anyone else in the army. You should take this as an opportunity to improve yourself.

"There's got to be at least fifteen of them. How exactly do you see this playing out?"

Fifteen Saxon spears are nothing compared to you, my dear. Just think of the things you have already achieved. You slew a dragon. You faced down not one, but two armies - slaughtering the second to a man. You have bargained with Knockers, and as much as it hurts me to mention, you banished the spirit of Merlin to the netherworld.

"When you put it like that, I am pretty bitching, aren't I?" I was being steadily backed towards the treeline where, I was sure, a few strong, warm arms would be eager to wrap me up into an, eventually, terminal embrace.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"The thing is, Big M ..."

What is the thing, my dear?

"I really don't think I did any of those things on purpose."

Ah, yes. There is that.

And the Saxons attacked.

*

Hrolf would have first dip.

That was the way things were, and no one begrudged him that privilege. After all, he would ever be the first to charge a shield wall, so it only stood to reason he got a go on the women first.

He stepped forward a few paces, leaving the ring of his fellows behind, and threw a meaty fist at the stranger's head. Not too hard, of course. It wouldn't do to mess her up too much. She had a pretty face; no need to lose that right off the bat. That was the point of going first, after all. So she'd still look like a person,

However, rather than accept the blow and collapse to the floor - a scene he'd played out countless times before - the woman suddenly jerked her head to one side, and his punch met thin air.

That was unexpected.

So unexpected, in fact, that the lack of resistance to the blow caused him to stumble forward uncontrollably before coming to an abrupt halt. A fierce pain bloomed in the centre of his chest, and looking down, he saw she driven her sword straight through his chest.

With a twist, she pulled the blade free, pushed him away and turned to meet the surge forward of Ceol and Aidan. As his friends charged past his falling body, Hrolf had just enough time to ...

*

The two brothers did everything together, so it was little surprise they were next to each other, close on Hrolf's heels. It didn't seem fair they had to take a turn after him - he rarely left anything recognisable behind after he'd finished.

So caught up were they in the injustice of it all, that they barely noticed their leader's punch fail to connect, nor his subsequent demise. Ceol, therefore, ran straight onto a crossways slash to the throat that quickly emptied most of his blood into the air in a fountain.

Aidan watched his brother's death in horror before realising the woman had tossed her sword to him. It was such a strange thing to do that he reached out and caught it without thinking.

Fucking rookie move.

*

Inguc wasn't quite sure what was going on.

Nevertheless, he knew it was bad.

The evening had been pretty uneventful up to a few moments ago. He'd been on patrol when, out of nowhere, a ginger bird had crashed into him and then - and he wasn't sure about this bit - apparently made him fly twenty feet in the air to crash into Hrolf's campfire.

He'd come round and dusted himself off just in time to see Hrolf walk into a blade - no great loss, the man was a throbbing dick - Ceol get his throat cut, and then Aidan combust into a pillar of flame.

That was all bad enough, but then - somehow - that smoking corpse turned round and started to chop through anyone within easy reach.

Which, unfortunately, included Inguc.

*

All things considered, I was quite happy with the early exchanges here.

I mean, there were still ten of them left - nope, nine. Drynwyn was enjoying himself - but this felt like a pretty good start.

Leave the sword to its fun for now. Let us see if you can harness the power of Wood Qi in your defence.

Odd as it seemed in the middle of a battle, it did feel like I could afford to take a breath. No one at the other campfires seemed bothered by what was occurring - a quick glance around suggested such skirmishes appeared to be almost commonplace.

Drynwyn had welded himself to the crispy body of the Saxon who'd caught him and was engaging three or four of the others at one time. The charge towards me had all but stopped - violent death tends to put a dent in even the most ardent of would-be rapists ardour - and those that were left were either trying to work out how to fight a flaming zombie or watching others fail to work out how to fight a flame zombie.

"Okay. So Wood Qi. I can do that. Lots of trees around. Lots of grass. I can call on that. Yep. So what do you want me to do? Can I make one of the trees go Groot on their ass?"

Well, no. Not really, I was hoping you would ...

New technique created: [We want our Ent-Wives back]

*

It took less than a minute before the last of the Saxons was dragged, screaming, into the woods by - and I'm afraid to say it - desperately horny Oak trees.

"I make that three new Qi techniques I've created in a week. That's got to be some sort of record, right?"

Actually, my dear, I think you will find you have simply renamed - in a somewhat anachronistic way, of course - one of my own early efforts to manipulate Wood Qi. A very primitive technique, I should note. I imagine there are Druids in Bavaria who might find it difficult to master such a skill, but certainly, it is no great achievement for cultivators of quality.

"I have any number of follow-up questions as to why you felt the need to create an army of trees that want a shag. Where would you like me to start?"

There was a lengthy pause during which I could hear several Saxons come to recognise why it was so important that sometimes 'no' means 'no'. Should any of them make it out of the woods alive, I felt sure they'd have a more enlightened attitude to the position of women in society.

Oh, and splinters. Lots and lots of splinters.

By which, of course, I mean, 'well done, Morgan'. Never has the world seen such a prodigious, intuitive use of Wood Qi.

"Damn right, Big M. Now, back to the plan?"

Back to the plan.

"Drynwyn?"

Fuck the plan.

"Awesome."