Valkyrie's Shadow

Empire in Chains: Act 4, Chapter 25

Empire in Chains: Act 4, Chapter 25

Chapter 25

It was the middle of winter, yet the faces of the men around Rangobart were covered in sheens of sweat. His body jerked as he slipped on an exposed root. He stumbled forward and a hand shot out to steady him.

“Thank you, my la–”

Lady Zahradnik pressed a gauntleted finger to her lips. Rangobart nodded his thanks as he brushed off a soiled knee. When he brought his hand up to wipe it off on a Trooper’s Towel, he found a leech stuck to his palm. Then a huge bug randomly thought it was a good idea to fly right into his face out of nowhere. Just touching the thing made his face break out into an itchy rash. His eyes started to swell shut before he finally decided to reach into a belt pouch, pulling out his third Antidote in as many hours.

As a mage, he had the benefit of an Endure Elements spell that spared him from discomfort due to the strange weather of The Blister, but it didn’t save him from everything else. Wizards were not meant for jungles. Neither were Nobles. Nor were most of the soldiers in the company, for that matter.

The Imperial Army trained, patrolled and fought in the vicinity of the cleared and developed lands of the Empire. At worst, they operated in the managed woodlands and fringes of the untamed wilds. From the Wizards to the Clerics to the dismounted Imperial Knights, their column was struggling to push through a snarl of tangled undergrowth beneath a canopy that seemed to actively choke out the daylight and trap them in a layer of sweltering humidity. The Rogues were at least able to keep their balance in the muddy, rugged terrain and the Rangers…seemed entirely unaffected.

Rangobart jealously eyed the men screening ahead of them and to the sides as they effortlessly made their way forward. They made no sound, were difficult to spot and showed no signs of fatigue. The animals – even the swarms of biting insects – seemed to leave them alone, to the resentment of everyone else.

A Sergeant from one of the Ranger companies fell back to the head of the column, signalling for them to halt. He looked at Captain Germund and made another sign. The Captain raised his hand and the company lowered themselves to the ground, grateful for the reprieve. Once the Sergeants gathered around Captain Germund, he looked over at Rangobart, tapping his earlobe with a finger.

“?Silence?.”

The sounds from the jungle abruptly cut off. Rangobart nodded once at Captain Germund, then did his best to ignore a metre-long centipede crawling by.

“Let’s hear it, Zint,” Captain Germund said.

“We’re 500 metres out from one of the tribes the Ranger squads couldn’t break up safely,” the Ranger Sergeant said. “Four dozen Ogres with three times as many Goblins. About one mystic for every twenty. Can’t tell what type.”

Wiping the soil between them flat with a boot, Sergeant Zint took an arrow shaft and started to describe the layout of the Demihuman settlement. It was raised inside the bend of a thirty metre-wide river with waist-deep waters. Dozens of crude huts and tents radiated from a central fire pit. There were no defensive barriers, but the Rangers had found and dealt with a few simple traps in the area – most of them pits or snares for game.

“What about hunters and foragers?” Captain Germund asked.

“Our squads are sweeping around for them on either side. We’ll be across the river in less than half an hour.”

“Any strong Demihumans?”

“We can’t get close enough to tell for certain, but nothing that looks like a Lord. No Hobgoblins, either.”

“I guess we’re up, then.”

Sergeant Zint left the column and Captain Germund looked back down to study the crude map drawn in the dirt. Though the Second Legion had Death-series servitors at its disposal, The Blister was still roughly 7,500 square kilometres of dense, unexplored jungle. With the Legion’s limited window of opportunity, the Undead went back and forth as the army advanced, deployed against the groups of Demihumans, Magical Beasts and Monsters that had the highest probability of inflicting serious casualties.

Below that threshold were the targets left for the Imperial Army to handle. Oddly enough, it was a familiar routine despite the unfamiliar environment. Squads cleared away small groups; companies attacked all but the largest tribes. The air wing used its mobility to get at hard-to-reach objectives and support the ground forces. Rather than concentrated, raw power, wide-scale power projection was what was required. The Imperial Army excelled at this and the men gradually applied their experience and training to the demands of the theatre.

The Captain settled for an improvised Crane Wing – a tried and true formation favoured by both Baharuth and Re-Estize. His dismounted cavalry squads, which were the bulk of the company, formed the two wings while Captain Germund and Rangobart’s mages stood behind the heavy infantry of the centre. Given that they were up against a Demihuman tribe, it was probably overdoing it. At the same time, Rangobart couldn’t see any disadvantages in conducting an organised attack.

Captain Germund called the advance and their broad wedge crept forward in an admittedly less-than-ideal fashion over the treacherous terrain. It didn’t take long for the settlement to notice the advancing spearhead. Cries of alarm rose from the Goblins dwelling in their simple tents around the outskirts.

Annoyingly, the Goblins’ immediate reaction was to fall back, denying Rangobart and his mages the opportunity to hit the mass of weak targets with area of effect crowd control spells. They started to consolidate around the Ogres further inside the camp, filling the air with shrieks and howls. The Ogres rose from their resting places, turning their befuddled gazes towards the advancing company.

Two hundred metres from the enemy, Rangobart and the rest of the mages cast a series of defensive spells.

“?Protection from Arrows?.”

“?Reinforce Armour?.”

“?Shield Wall?.”

A hundred metres from the mass of excited Demihumans, Captain Germund slowed their advance. Crude arrows from Goblin bows started to fall around them, bouncing off of the heavy infantry and their shields. A few stopped in mid-air, rendered impotent by the mages’ defensive enchantments. Predictably, the Ogres lost patience with the ineffective volleys of Goblin arrows.

?Looks like they’ve taken the bait.?

Thumping footfalls grew closer as they advanced to meet the formation’s spearhead with hewn branches the size of grown men. They raised their massive weapons in the air, jutting jaws grinning evilly in anticipation of the ensuing carnage.

?BRACE!?

The men locked their shields together at the Captain’s command, activating Fortress. Savage swings powerful enough to send horses flying into the air utterly failed to budge the rank of disciplined soldiers.

“?Dragon Fang Thrust?!”

Twin streaks of flame lit up the darkness as Captain Germund’s strike went over the shields of his men and into the face of the nearest Ogre. The Demihuman’s greasy hair exploded into a ball of fire. All across the line, spears lanced out from behind the shield wall to stab at their towering opponents.

Stunned at the unexpected reversal, the Ogres took a step back.

?Company, advance! For the Empire!?

The voices of the men rose up in a combined shout. Flare spells illuminated the surroundings.

Step, thrust. Step, step, thrust.

As the heavy infantry pushed the Ogres back, the wings of the crane swept forward, creating an encirclement with the river on one side.

Step, step, thrust. Step, thrust.

Their formation steadily advanced against the Demihumans’ disorganised attempts at resistance. Rangobart stepped over a dead Ogre, ignoring the missiles stopping powerlessly in front of him as he focused on the activity beyond the front line. He narrowed his eyes when an Ogre with a feathered staff appeared from behind a lean-to.

“Feathers ahead and to the right! ?Magic Arrow?!”

Two blue-white bolts of light shot out from Rangobart’s outstretched palm, flashing into the staff-wielding Ogre. Eight more bolts followed as the other mages traced his attack, pummelling their target with unerring magical force. The Ogre staggered back, dropping its staff.

“?Magic Arrow?!”

The next volley sent it to the ground. Rangobart coolly scanned over the simple constructs of the Demihuman settlement as the company pushed the Ogres and Goblins towards the murky waters.

?Steady! Don’t push too hard – let the Rangers do their thing.?

Another mystic was overwhelmed by a volley of Magic Arrows. The Ogres were reduced to a third of their number while the Goblins sending stones and arrows their way were starting to break. Splashing filled the air as Demihumans retreated into the river. They were easy targets for the two Ranger squads hidden on the opposite bank.

Five minutes later, Rangobart stood in the midst of the trampled settlement, looking out blankly over the surroundings.

?Fish those corpses out of the water. Let’s not warn everyone downstream that we’re coming.?

Captain Germund walked over, helmet under one arm. He clapped Rangobart on the shoulder.

“Not bad for your first real fight.”

“…thank you, sir.”

Rangobart’s gaze followed the Captain as he walked off to speak to the rest of his men. The Clerics were tending to what looked like a handful of cuts and bruises – the most grievous injury that Rangobart noticed was a broken arm.

Contrary to Captain Germund’s broad smile shared by the infantry that he interacted with, Rangobart felt no sense of triumph or accomplishment – just an unwinding sense of tension. They had fought and now they were done. He looked from the Captain to the infantry, then to the mages under him.

The infantry had tired, yet satisfied looks as they worked together to get the Demihuman corpses back to shore. The mages, however, wore expressions mirroring Rangobart’s own feelings. None of them were tired. Each of them had cast a limited number of spells and about a quarter of those had been defensive enchantments. Recovering the mana used would take under two hours.

Rationally speaking, he understood why this was: the infantry fought to end a battle as quickly as possible, while mages mostly held their power in reserve to eliminate critical threats and create openings for their company at opportune times. Endlessly blasting things like a Wizard from some story wasn’t a thing. The Clerics were spellcasters trained to conserve mana under similar principles, but they were also front-line melee combatants who shared in the physical struggles of the fighting men. Lightly-armoured mages with about as much proficiency in martial combat as a shopkeeper had no business in the front ranks.

Perhaps being treated as magical artillery was a problem, but it wasn’t the only one. The logistics of being a mage in the military set them apart from everyone else both physically and psychologically.

“That’s quite the daze you’re standing in.”

Rangobart started at the sound of Lady Zahradnik’s voice. Somehow, he had forgotten she was there…or had she concealed herself for the entire fight? Her participation in the battle would have certainly resulted in a more flashy outcome.

“I was just thinking about what you said, my lady. About mages and the military, I mean. It goes much deeper than I thought it did. Things felt tense and I had a lot more to keep track of, but, in the end, each mage actually did less in this battle than they would on a regular patrol.”

“That’s an interesting observation,” the noblewoman said. “It’s something I’ve seen before, as well.”

“You have?”

Lady Zahradnik nodded, stepping in closer to make way for several soldiers checking through the nearby tents.

“It was something that used to happen in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Adventurer Guild,” she said. “If parties prioritise mana efficiency, the mages can become ‘detached’, losing the general sense of camaraderie that comes from sharing similar trials. The Guild’s training regimen has since then been refined to the point where all members of a party are pushed to their limits or close to it…but this is obviously undesirable for a professional army.”

The mention of the Adventurer Guild felt strangely out of place, but it did appear that Lady Zahradnik was familiar with what he was speaking of.

“I’ve been on dozens of patrols, but I never thought much about the fact that I was either casting spells or just waiting to cast spells. This fight really drives things home, though. It feels like I’m watching everyone else from the other side of a window.”

It didn’t even feel right to try and include himself. The visceral feeling of accomplishment; the fact that he had earned what they had wasn’t there. For it to happen, a mage had to be pushed into the same degree of exertion. This would also mean that they would be embroiled in a battle that would cost their company dearly. As the Baroness had noted, no one wanted that.

“Roberbad,” Harlow called out. “Over here.”

He looked to his right. The Sergeant was waving him over from two dozen metres away. Several of the Sergeants, plus Captain Germund, were standing over a crude tarp.

“Find something?” Rangobart asked.

“More than something,” Harlow stepped aside to make room. “This is going to be crazy.”

Was it a magic item? A legendary treasure thought long lost to time?

He knelt over an assortment of objects. A man nearby held a torch over them. There were several strange-looking things that might have been magic items, but…

Rangobart’s eye was drawn to a group of glittering nuggets. He held one up for inspection.

“Platinum,” a veteran Rogue, Stinv, kneeling across from him grinned. “Gold and Mithril, too. And that’s not all…”

Stinv reached out to grab a fistful of coloured stones from a pile. They played over his palm, falling back to the tarp as he ran them off of his fingers.

“Emeralds, Diamonds, Sapphires, Rubies – might be that we can pave a street with ‘em by the time we’re done in here.”

“Did you know about this, Captain?” Rangobart asked.

“The settlements nearer to the edge of The Blister had a few things here and there,” Captain Germund answered. “But it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for a tribe that’s been around for gods knows how long.”

Rangobart rose to his feet. He glanced at each of the men around the tarp, then shared a troubled look with Captain Germund. Nobles were accustomed to handling a certain degree of wealth, but, to the rank and file common soldier, this discovery was the stuff of dreams.

“Imagine what the tribes deeper in’ll have,” someone said.

“Imagine what the Dragon’ll have,” another soldier chimed in.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Captain Germund told them. “Roberbad, do you know the procedures for this?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded.

“Good. Secure our findings and book them when we get back to camp. The rest of you: see to your men.”

The Sergeants dispersed, leaving Rangobart and Captain Germund standing over the unexpected trove. The Captain’s fingers tapped rhythmically against his tassets as his gaze drifted over the Demihuman camp.

“Is this going to be trouble, sir?”

“I don’t know,” the Captain sighed. “The men are used to finding a few valuables once in a while, but the scale of this…it hasn’t happened since the earliest days when people were digging up what the Demon Gods ruined.”

Rangobart frowned at Captain Germund’s words.

“Command knows about this already?”

“They had their suspicions and told the Captains to watch out for it.”

“But, you said there was nothing out of the ordinary so far…”

“For the tribes around the edge of The Blister, yeah,” Captain Germund’s voice was low. “But Lady Zahradnik wiped out that big parade of Demihuman Lords delivering the tribute.”

“So she told the General about what she found?”

“More than that,” the Captain snorted. “There was enough to buy half of Enz and she just handed everything over without twitching an eyebrow. ‘As per procedure’, she said. She even included a report. General Kabein snuck it out with the recovered tribute.”

Excited voices rose from different parts of the camp as the men discovered more hidden troves. Rangobart looked over his shoulder towards where Lady Zahradnik was observing the company’s activities. His mind went back to what she had shared with the command staff at their first meeting.

Whatever the result, it is what it is.

Rather than a task to be completed, their campaign was feeling more and more like a test. Unbeknownst to nearly everyone, Lady Zahradnik was not merely a liaison officer, but a judge who had been quietly weighing their quality from the moment she had arrived.