The Union 242 Expense Of War

The last of their horses had died just after leaving Fort Fedri. They were starved. They were hara.s.sed by villagers. Some of them died of injuries.

But the suffering was over. Cald and about ten of his mates had arrived at Mythrille. They were exhausted. Cald himself was dying of thirst. But they made it at last.

The whole city was on lockdown when they arrived. The gates were closed. Sentries lined the top of the wall like hawks looking for preys.

Good, he thought. Watch us. Warn us. These are harrowing times.

But as they went nearer, Cald's frown deepened. He noticed the lack of Castonians on the top of the walls. Usually, groups of Castonians would meet them with strictness. They were a demanding bunch and scary too. That was the way of the Castonians.

But the ones at the walls were not strict. They were lax. Some were sitting and chatting. He even saw someone sleeping. Their lack of discipline annoyed him.

And then he found the reason of this breach of duty in the uniforms they wore. The sentries had gambesons instead of the familiar reinforced whole body mail armor of the Castonians. They were Cantonese and they were inferior as guards.

"Identify yourselves!" One of the Cantonese sentries finally demanded when they reached the foot of the wall. Cald was disappointed deeply. The sentries should have noticed their approach long before they reached the foot. If it was Castonians, they would have been noticed from a league away.

"Open the gate" Cald said "We have important news for General Brent. We are from Fort Fedri.

The sentries on top murmured to each other. They talked long and debated.

Don't they have a leader? Cald asked in silence. A patrol leader or a senior should have thought of a decision already. That was efficiency. That was how things were supposed to be. And yet it took the sentries a long time to come into a decision.

The gate soon opened. The iron bars were raised. Cald and his mates entered the city.

On his way inside, he grabbed one of the sentries by the collar and pinned the idiot on the wall despite his weak body.

"Next time" Cald growled "You should do your jobs well. Do not slack for your duty means our lives. Do you understand!?"

The sentry just nodded. Cald could see that the man was new and still fearful. He felt a tinge of regret. Not all men were built the same way as Castonians.

"Now where can we find General Brent?" His tone became more gentle.

"You see, sir..." The sentry's voice trailed "Goldentooth left two days ago"

Cald's body s.h.i.+vered. His spine felt a jolt of coldness. They were too late. General Brent was walking into a trap. Those men... the whole of Goldentooth were in danger.

His grasp loosened and his hand went limp. But he must think. He must do something. "The King!" he again asked the sentry, leaning forward with gritted teeth. "Take me to the King!"

*********

Ash shuffled through the reports of the sentries. The number of crimes had risen in Mythrille ever since the Castonians left. They were petty crimes at first but they grew more violent afterwards. Now it involved a few murders.

Most concerning of all were the rumors. There were breaths of a brewing rebellion inside the city. Even after doubling the number of patrols and recruiting more soldiers from the more loyal part of the populace, whispers of rebellion were still sung inside the city walls. It was inevitable now. It was just a matter of time before a rebellion engulf Mythrille. The exit of the Castonians hastened it but it was meant to happen even if General Brent stayed.

Knocks jarred her from reading the reports. Three consecutive rapid knocks and a single one after- it was Harold. She strode to the door and found the King when she opened. He was wearing angst on his face.

"What happened?"

"Follow me" Harold said and just turned the other way. Ash followed him down the stairs and turning a corridor to the main hall of the Governor's villa.

Ten men sat around the long table. They were filthy. Their hairs were ragged. Some were b.l.o.o.d.y. Their faces were of broken men. They were Castonians by the look on their armor.

"Lady Ash" One of them tried to stand but was unable to. The man grimaced.

"Don't force it" Ash said as she sat on one of the seats. Harold sat beside "Who are you?"

"We are from Fort Fedri" said the one who failed to stand "We journeyed here to give you report of the destruction of our fort"

"Fort Fedri fell? How? Three hundred Castonians were stationed there. " She could feel her heart thump fast.

"Yes but later on that. We walked day and night and battled some attacks from the rebels to deliver you some information but it seems we are too late"

The Castonian took something from his pocket and slid it on the table. It was a piece of flat dark metal shaped like a plate.

"What is this?"

"A piece of lamellar and you know what this implies Lady Ash"

"No" the realization hit her and she gasped. She didn't want to believe it but it was a viable explanation.

"A few of the rebels could have found a lamellar armor and wore it in the attack. It's impossible. Sarah Wismar shouldn't have returned this early. It is too early" Ash tried to deny.

"Possible. Finding a piece of lamellar armor doesn't mean that the Wismarines are involved in this. But General Brent shouldn't have left"

"We tried to stop him. We really did" She looked at Harold "Unfortunately we failed. It is too late now to inform him. If the Sarah Wismar has returned already, then it doesn't matter now. Goldentooth is doomed. We can't do anything for them"

His statement was not taken well by the Castonian. The battered man was silent for a long time, just staring at the table and lost in thought. He then nodded.

"You are right Lady Ash. We should focus on Mythrille. Your men earlier are slacking. They were supposed to be sentries but they are not taking this seriously"

Ash knew that well. Only Harold's the handful of Castonians were the capable swords they have. Most of the Cantonese were either inexperienced or had questionable loyalties. The whole city could rise in rebellion any moment now.

"We need to flee" Ash mumbled.

***

The march was long and tiring. The hara.s.sment of the locals was brutal. They were furious. The whole of Eastern Canton was against them. Although the losses of the Goldentooth legion was minimal, Brent now worried.

It was a far cry from his confidence when he left Mythrille. He was furious that time. He was insulted. He was shamed. And although the main reason was his fury and shame, he was also hurt by the deaths of the Castonians.

But as his anger subsided and his head was cleared, he realized that this might be a folly. Ash's logic was valid and King Harold was right to side with her. Him leaving Mythrille would weaken the city. It was true that the monarchs ordered them to defend Mythrille for as long as possible. Mythrille was the center of Eastern Canton. So long as they held it, the whole region wouldn't be lost.

But it was too late now. They had been marching for days and Mythrille was leagues to their back. Brent hoped that King Timothy wouldn't execute him. His act of leaving Mythrille was sort of treason and many of his own men were already defying him. They were smart lads, loyal to their King. Not to him though.

They should reach Fort Fedri at sundown. Brent decided that they would just check on the fort, rescue the defenders and hurry back to Mythrille.

But at that moment arrows rained. They blotted the sun, providing a shade of death. The first barrage hit before Brent could blink. Most of the arrows just bounced off the armor of his men. Some found gaps. Few were fatal. But the barrage of arrows painted a cruel future.

Out of nowhere, armored men bearing axes and pikes. .h.i.t them. The Castonians were quick to get into formation but the surprise attack worked. Several Castonians now lay dead. More were injured.

The attackers. .h.i.t them from all sides. Unceasing. Brutal. Destructive. The Castonians tried to hold and remembered their training. Their halberds were presented in line. The Centurions were effective in their command. But the fighting was tough, b.l.o.o.d.y and deadly. This was more than the petty resistance of the rebels. This was a real ambush.

"Hold!" Brent shouted, pleading to his men to show courage.

It's not that they needed it though. They were Castonians. They were unbreakable. As strong as the enemies may be, the impetus of the ambush had ceased. Goldentooth was holding... and winning. The armored opponents fell like flies. It was glorious. They thought that they could just ambush Castonians and live to tell the tale. They were dreaming. His men would fight until the last drop of blood.

And then the attackers retreated, leaving the sight of enemy corpses. Goldentooth began to cheer. Brent himself raised his sword. A victory.

The cheer soon died like a candle amidst a storm. Brent also saw it and his sword almost fell. His stomach churned. To the west, things charged towards them. They were large and loud. Hundreds, he counted.

Elephants. Wismarine armored elephants.