Sixteen: Marching Orders

Three days after the arrival of the Inquisitor, the orders to move out came from on high. Our Army was to march south towards the city of Ceris, where we would join the counts forces to repel the growing threat of Orks.

If the reports were anything to go by, the Counts men had sustained heavy casualties.

The roaming Ork tribes had wasted no time in pressing their advantage. Several towns and villages in the path of the Host had been entirely wiped out. The Orks continued on, leaving a path of slaughter and destruction in their wake.

The most chilling news came the day after. Reports of human slaves being taken for sport became common rumor among the soldiers under Blackthorne's command. It was a fate that awaited the rest of the southern lands if the Army failed to arrive in time to face this threat.

“I thought Red Ork tribes were notorious for infighting,” I said to Kato one morning. “How is it that a host this size has been able to gather without opposition?”

It was Draxus who looked up from his book to answer.

“The Red Orks are a barbaric people, but they aren’t like Goblins. They have their own way of life, and even their own religion. Their rams, that’s what they call their young, prove themselves by fighting and besting other warriors. Usually tribes fighting among tribes keeps the population low. It’s an endless cycle of culling.”

He shut his book and set it aside.

“Occasionally one ram will rise above the others. If he is able to best and subjugate other tribe leaders, then those disgraced leaders will follow him. To them it’s a matter of some twisted code of honor.”

“You seem to know a lot about Orks.”

Draxus nodded, resting his head back on his pack.

“They were one of the greatest enemies my Father had to face on the battlefield. I heard his stories many nights by the fire.”

I turned the stick I was whittling over in my hands, examining it. It was a hobby I had picked up to pass the time in camp, though my current skill level left something to be desired. I ran a thumb over the rough carving.

“So if there is one ram warlord that the others all follow.. Then why wouldn’t the Kadian military try to assassinate him? If he dies then the others leaders would be released from their bonds, right? It would lead to infighting and the eventual collapse of the Host.”

Draxus arched a brow, bemused.

“Much Easier said than done. Tell me Will, Have you ever seen an Ork?”

When I shook my head he continued.

“They stand eight feet tall and their arms and legs are as thick around as logs. Their tusks are the lengths of your fingers, and their horns are sharp enough to spear a man through. No, in the packs they travel in, simply infiltrating an Ork encampment would be a trial in and of itself.”

“I see.”

I brushed the wood shavings off of my lap and into the grass between my boots.

It was at that moment that a man wearing the crimson robes of an Engineer stormed out of the officers tent. He was followed closely by a harassed looking Gills.

“I take it supervising the construction of the bridge is going well,” said Kato cheerfully.

Gills scowled at him.

“It’s going as well as to be expected with the current.. complications. Two more Engineers were killed just earlier today. That makes five total."

That news sobered everyone up.

“Goblins?” I asked.

He nodded. “Stragglers that want to prevent us from crossing the bridge. My guess is that there is a nest nearby, and without the protection of the Horde their growing desperate.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“The Engineers can’t work under these conditions. I was just told in no uncertain terms that the bridges construction would halt until the nest was burned."

Kato grimaced.

“If the Engineers don’t build the bridge for the Army to cross the river, then how are we meant to kill the fucking Goblins on the other side?”

“A true paradox.” Gills sat heavily, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m not cut out for being an officer,” he said suddenly. “I’m a veteran for thrones sake. Put me in front of something and tell me to stab it, sure. But all this paperwork and diplomacy? It’s my own personal hell.”

I clapped him on the back.

“Nothing you can’t learn.”

“Just remember that even if you stick your head in the sand and do absolutely nothing you’re still better than your predecessor.” Kato chimed in.

“Not helping."

I held up my stick.

“Does it look like anything to you?” I asked him.

Gills examined it for a moment.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I think it’s a pretty good likeness of a pig. I’d say you’ve improved.”

I frowned.

“It was supposed to be horse.”

Kato burst out laughing and Draxus shot him an annoyed look.

Sighing I stood and crossed to the edge of camp, where I hurled the stick as hard as I could.

It flipped end over end, flying twenty feet before dropping into the river. I watched it float, bobbing up and down on the gentle current.

That’s when an idea began to form. It was an odd idea... crazy even. But despite that, I couldn't shake the feeling that it might just work. I turned.

“Gills,” I said. “I think I might have an answer to your Goblin problem.”

“It could work,” said Gills when I laid out the details. “But there is the issue of visibility. Goblins can see well in the dark, so attacking at night would be out of the question. In broad daylight you’d risk being sitting ducks.”

I nodded and crouched, picking up a stick to draw in the dirt. I scribbled the river, then made a few stick figures that represented soldiers.

“So,” I said. “What if we went down stream past the river bend. It isn’t as narrow so there would be farther to go. But the chances of being seen would be greatly reduced.”

Draxus leaned over, his book now completely abandoned as he examined the plan.

“Yeah, but what will you do if you're spotted? Goblin archers could pick you off before you had a chance to make it halfway.”

“Alright,” I said, scrubbing away the scribble of a a soldier on the raft and replacing it with a square.

“Our biggest threat is Goblin archers that might happen to spot us as we cross. What if we asked the Engineers to hammer together a couple of boards? We could use them as makeshift tower shields. They would have to be wide enough across to cover us, but light enough that they wouldn’t tip the raft.”

Gills ran a hand through his beard.

“You’d have to be sure not to fall in. The river is deeper than it appears, and a man in armor would easily drown if he slipped off the edge.”

It was a fair point. The image of the raft tipping and plunging a squad to their watery deaths flashed through my mind.

“Gills, do you think you can convince the Chief Engineer to lend us his assistance? We’re going to need it if we want to make this plan work."

"I'm not sure we have a choice," he admitted. "We can't afford to take the extra week or more to march around the river."

“At that point the Count might be dead.” Said Draxus. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴøvᴇlFɪre.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“I agree something needs to be done.”

Gills rose to his feet, dusting off his hands.

“I’ll ask for clearance from Lord Blackthorne. He is the Spear of the King now, and ultimately he’ll have to decide our course of action.” Gills paused, seemingly considering something.

“You have the potential, Will." he told me.

" But don’t be so reckless as to get yourself killed. Trust the men to either side of you, and learn when to delegate. I say this not a criticism, but merely as an observation. A battle is fought just as much here,” he tapped at my forehead. “As in the field.”

He held my gaze and I got his meaning. Gills wanted me to learn to lead, not just myself but others. As it was, he thought I was reckless -and maybe there was some truth to that.

“I understand.” I told him, though I refrained from making any commitments. I would have to think on his words.

He nodded.

“Then make your preparations. If the Lord sanctions your plan, then we may have to act quickly.”

I dressed for battle. With the money from the iron claws Kato, Draxus, and Seth had used the opportunity to replace old equipment and purchase health potions.

I had others ideas.

As I crossed the encampment, my new Godforged chain mail drew more than a few stares. Soldiers turned to watch me as I passed.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the rumors about men betting on the outcomes of my battles were real.

The sound of a hammer on steel led me in the direction of the Smiths stall.

Sweat poured from his brow as he pounded a piece of metal over his anvil. It was several long minutes before he noticed me and gestured for one of his apprentices to take over his work.

“Ah, Will of Blackbriar,” he said, wiping his hands on his aprons.

“I assume you are here about the uh… piece you commissioned?” The Smith’s tone was casual but I saw the way his eyes darted around to make sure no one was within ear shot.

“I am.” I said. “Have you done what I asked?”

The Smith reached beneath the counter and brought out a bundle of cloth, which he set before me.

After another quick glance around he began to unwrap the cloth revealing the work from beneath.

It was a a simple piece, but there was a terrible beauty in it’s simplicity. The daggers blade was one sided and nearly six inches long, ending in a curved point. The metal itself was a deep dark iron that seemed to shimmer and pulse with unnatural energy. I reached for the weapon, and the Smith drew it back, his eyes twinkling.

“About the amount we agreed upon,” he said lightly. “You must understand that the piece itself was difficult to forge and required much of the time I would have spent on other orders. Then there is the added eh.. Risk….” He gave me a significant look.

I arched a brow.

“We agreed on a price before you accepted the commission. What’s changed?”

The Smith worried at his beard with his fingers.

“The presence of the Inquisitor,” he said frankly. “Working with cursed metal is not strictly illegal, but it is certainly frowned upon by the guild. If the Inquisition were to find out.. Well. I could face the whipping post, and my shop could be severely penalized.”

He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow.

“As I said, risk is a factor.”

I folded my arms across my chest.

“Alright,” I said. “What amount do you purpose?”

The Smith didn’t hesitate.

“Twenty five silver.”

I managed to keep my jaw from dropping. There was no doubt that the dagger was a quality piece, but Given that I had done the labor of per curing much of the materials, it was steep price.

It was also a price I couldn't afford with only 17 silver in my inventory.

I pretended to think it over.

“Sixteen silver,” I countered and the Smith’s smile soured.

“That’s well below asking price,” he said.

“True. But it’s still an entire silver over our original deal.”

He shook his head.

“Twenty one silver, and not a copper lower.”

I pretended to think again and then shook my head.

“That’s too high. I’d do seventeen silver and give you first pick of monster materials for the next two months. But that’s as high as I’d be willing to go.”

“First pick you say,” the smith scratched at his chin. “First pick and a 10% discount for purchasing materials.”

I clenched my teeth but in the end I knew he had me. I would take a small hit in revenue for the next few months, but the dagger had the potential to be worth it.

“Deal.”

I handed over the silver and the Smith swept it eagerly from the counter into his purse. Then he handed me the dagger and a custom buckskin sheath.

Item: Iron Fang, Rare. Has a chance to inflict cursed damage on an opponent

I tucked the dagger into my belt and made my way down the trail that ran parallel to the river. There, I saw the two soldiers I had been looking for.

“Alright sarge,” said Bjorn in way of greeting. The Northern warrior was leaning on a battle Axe, dressed in fur lined armor and looking formidable. Next to him, his dark haired sibling nodded to me.

“Sergeant.”

The Northerners, affectionately referred to by the rest of the 3rd as ‘The Twins’ had been Lord Blackthorne’s gift to my newly formed company. They were each level 23, and both had three traits above platinum, which made them specialists.

Bjorn the skull cleaver was a berserker, and Astrid was a keen markswoman with a long bow. Both of them would be invaluable in the coming battles.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

Bjorn jerked his chin back towards camp. “The Engineers requested assistance with the labor of making the raft. Last I saw Draxus and Seth got roped in to helping carry logs.”

I grimaced.

“Any word from Gills? Has Blackthorne given his approval?"

“None yet, Sarge. But you give the order and we’re ready to go.”

Astrid hummed her agreement, adjusting her the quiver on her shoulder.

I couldn't help but smile as I scanned the opposite river bank.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Our time will come soon enough. For now, we wait."