Mourningwood Fort was a ruin of what it had once been, a grandiose structure towering above the trees. Great sections of wall were missing. The windows were gone. There wasn't even a roof. He wondered idly how long it had stood and when it had fallen into decay. And then he wondered why Logan hadn't done anything about it. The reply came within seconds. Logan didn't do anything about anything.
The Swift Brigade had been relegated here for weeks, forced to kill the undead over and over again with slowly dwindling numbers. The soldiers had realised it was a suicide mission from the start. Ben Finn felt like it was a waste of good men and bad beef jerky. Logan didn't exactly have thousands of soldiers to throw away at the moment. Destroying a loyal brigade meant he had some kind of ulterior motive and whatever it was Ben didn't like it. It involved his death, after all; it was hardly a party he was going to get behind with unabashed vigour. At this point no one was even in it for the money since the chance of collecting and using it posthumously were second to none. And if they did manage to survive it would be another battle trying to collect their salaries. Getting money from Logan was like getting blood from a stone.
The late afternoon sun hovered overhead as he sat on a barrel polishing the rifle in his hands. A stone's throw away, Major Swift was standing vacantly in a space staring off into the middle distance, his smoking pipe forgotten. Ben wondered what he was thinking about. Swiftie had no family that he knew of and no woman to warm his bed. There had been a few flings in his time but even they were just distractions. Ben wondered what exactly it was that drove a man into the middle of a dead woodland filled with the reanimated deceased.
Perhaps he didn't want to know.
Tyrell shifted suddenly above him and his eyes were drawn to the movement. It was Tyrell's rear. Not a pleasing sight. But the watchman had been still all day and now he was leaning over the battlements.
"What are you seeing up there?" Ben called.
"Movement," Tyrell replied grimly. Swift looked up, his eyes focusing again.
"It's not yet dark," Ben muttered. "Do you think it's hollow men?" he called up.
"No, I don't hear growling," Tyrell told him. "I can hear voices, though."
The fort fell silent as the sound of a man's voice grew louder. It was gruff, heavy and low. Swift's brow quirked, and Ben's head tilted as they analysed the voice.
"Is that…"
"Cease your movement!" Tyrell yelled suddenly. "Be you men or be you Hollow Men?"
The reply was in a sharp voice Ben knew well.
"Have you gone daft, boy? Do I look like a shambling, decrepit mess?"
Tyrell seemed to swallow his reply before he chose another.
"Walter? Is that you?"
"You're halfway to hollow man yourself, boy; your eyes are terrible. I am the very same!"
"Tell Major Swift; Walter's here!" Tyrell yelled down to Ben. The captain looked over at the Major, who puffed on his pipe with a slightly straighter back and approached the doors.
"What does Walter want with us?" Ben asked.
"Whatever it is, it must be important," Swift replied. "Walter wouldn't risk his neck coming down here for anything less. And he wouldn't bother me for anything less."
The doors to the fort were pulled open by two of the soldiers, and Walter appeared as a gap grew between the wooden gates. He strode through authoritatively, coming to stand in from of Swift before grasping his hand and shaking it fiercely. Behind him was a young woman, moving in a way Ben could only describe as gliding. Her head was high, her chocolate hair scraped back into a braid, her mud-splattered mercenary gear a vivid shade of purple that hurt his eyes after days of muted reds and browns. It seemed unusual for Walter to have a travelling companion with him. The majestic Walter-beast didn't usually move with company unless they were soldiers, and he'd long since given up moving from bed to bed. So this girl was clearly necessary for something. Whoever she was, she was beautiful.
"There he is! The one and only- Major Swift!" Walter bawled, a grin on his face.
"Walter!" Swift cried, removing his pipe from his mouth, "what in the blazes are you doing here?"
"We came looking for you! I have a proposition for you," Walter replied.
The girl shifted, crossing her arms as she looked around the broken old fort, the crooked stalls full of weapons and the crude anvil. Her gaze swept over the graves and her lip seemed to tremble in pity.
"You came all this way to 'proposition' us?" Ben drawled."And I thought you were here to save us from the legions of the damned."
Walter looked at the Captain with a fond smile. "Ben Finn! It's good to see you," he breathed. "I take it the rumours about this place are true."
Swift nodded, sighing. The group began walking along towards the graves.
"I'll say," he began, "you've never seen so many Hollow Men in one place. We've been stationed here for weeks, trying to eradicate them. Mainly, though, it's us getting eradicated."
The girl sat down on a crate and pulled a brush and a mirror out of her bag, undoing her braid and swiping the brush through the dark waves rhythmically. Ben was so busy watching the hypnotic movement he nearly tuned out the major.
"We lost some good men last night," Swift sighed, gesturing to the graves he'd come to a halt in front of. "And the buggers will be back tonight."
Walter's expression was dark. "Logan just loves to send you on the best assignments, doesn't he? That's part of what I came here to talk about."
Swift looked over at the girl, sighing.
"Was it necessary to bring us the princess?" he murmured.
"I know your concerns, old friend," Walter replied. "But I needed to get her out of her brother's grasp."
Ben looked at the girl anew. He'd seen that face before, on portraits and books. Princess Rina, the old Queen's youngest daughter. Supposedly a virtuous, good-natured young woman known for generosity and strength of spirit. A true champion of the people. No wonder Walter had dragged her out into the swamps to meet her troops. If she was the promising future Queen she'd need all the rapport with her subjects she could muster after Logan's cock-up.
"Very well then." He turned to her. "Captain Finn will show you to the mortar. We could use a body up there. Ben, the Princess. Rina, Ben Finn."
She nodded politely to him, smiling softly. "A pleasure, captain," she said gently. The sound of her voice was sweet and mild, so different to the harsh voices of the soldiers around him. Ben became suddenly conscious of the smell he exuded, the mud and bloodstains on his uniform, and the hollow man gunk on his boots. She must have been well-raised not to comment on any of it. He cleared his throat and shot her a dazzling smile. A hint of blush raised itself on her creamy pale cheeks.
"Meet me on the wall when you're ready, then. I'll introduce you to Private Jammy- so called because he's the luckiest sod in the fort," he began.
"I look forward to it, captain," she replied lightly. Ben nodded, spun on his heel, and fled up the ramparts to watch the horizon with Jammy. Lucky though he may be, he only had one eye in use, meaning that he needed an extra set sometimes.
"You'll probably be stuck by that mortar all night," he heard Walter tell her. "Why don't you look around first? Talk to the men. See who's got your back. It never hurts to know who's helping you."
Did this girl ever stop nodding? It was her parting gesture to Walter as she stepped away to investigate the soldiers. The first one she came across, she immediately corrected his arm and weapon positioning, and the next time he fired a round, he finally struck a target, the way he'd been trying to for the last few days. She wandered off, encountering the three by the fire, and informed Grove that 'sycophant' was in fact a word, and not something that Tick had just made up. From what he could hear, she seemed to be advising him to locate a dictionary. Heading round the other side, she found their man selling potions, and he watched in surprise as she donated several of hers with some flippant explanation about her finding them unnecessary thus far. When she finally got up to the wall, Ben simply gestured to the heavily-injured young man beside him. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
"This is Private Jammy, Jammy, take it away."
"It's true what they say, you know. Jammiest soldier in Albion. 724 wounds and still standing," the Private stated proudly. She swallowed, looking nervous.
"I don't suppose you've ever used a mortar before? There's nothing to it." Ben paused. "There's always a slight chance of maiming, of course, but, ah, I'm sure you'll pick it up." Her brows raised.
"Pick up what, the chance of maiming?" she asked worriedly.
Jammy spluttered. Ben cleared his throat.
"No, princess-"
"Rina, please," she interjected.
"Rina, what I meant was-"
"-that I'll pick up how to use a mortar." She looked a little less concerned. "Captain Finn, one of the men told me that if I needed cheering up to talk to you, but you don't seem to be very funny."
"It wasn't my intention to make you nervous on your first day on the job, princess, believe me," he reassured her. "Relax."
"Right, my life's gonna be in your hands, so let's make sure you know how to use this thing," he told her. She nodded, stepping towards the artillery.
"Let's hope you're a good teacher."
Jammy blushed and showed her how to hold the mortar. When he felt her grip was sufficient, he loaded the weapon and she turned it to face the scarecrow. Jammy lit the fuse and they retreated somewhat, watching the shot arc and explode, destroying the mess of sticks and straw. At the second shot, the Private seemed to be squealing, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of the burning carnage in front of them.
"Alright, Jammy, don't get excited, you know what happens when you do," Ben said, as she aimed at the last shot, her eyes widening and face stiffening in faint horror. "Let's just get rid of this one, shall we?"
Jammy's face shot from concentrated to concern.
"Hang on, I don't remember setting this one up," the soldier commented. Even as he spoke, a wisp shot inside the rack of bones and clothes. With a boom and a crash, it blew apart, and Ben and Jammy looked to Rina, holding the mortar with a look that could part stone.
"Ben! Get down here!" Swift barked, and the Captain turned and rushed down to the courtyard, helping his comrades to board up the windows and hold the doors. Above him, the mortar boomed and flashed as the Hero went to work, blowing up the oncoming tide of corpses as fast as she and Jammy could reload the weapon. With each group of Hollow Men destroyed, two more popped up, and the princess seemed to lose all her quiet demeanour as she switched from prim royal to swearing street girl. A lesser man might have winced at the near-constant stream of filth pouring from Rina's mouth as she fought against the horde. It was when the dead began to knock heavily at their doors that she gave up the fight, and with a magnificent leap off the parapet she joined them on the fort floor. Ben registered that her sword had 'Queen' written on it, as she braced herself, and her palms lit up with Will.
They held their positions, watching as the wood shuddered with each pound against it. Two soldiers leapt forward to try and strengthen it, but Swift hurriedly pulled them back and ordered them to draw. They did so, and when the door crashed down, and the wisps invaded the fort, the first row let off a volley of bullets. Several Hollow Men fell, and then the princess let forth the waves of fire and lightning she had been slowly gathering in her hands. A blast of power rolled through the undead, destroying almost all of the first wave. Ben barely saw her as she started to move, a blur of movement, fire and electricity. Hollow Men rose and fell as she passed, and even while his men fought like their breath was leaving them, she danced across the ground, fresh and unexhausted.
The night stretched over their heads like an unforgiving blanket, bitterly cold and sapping all the strength from their bones. It was only when, sometime later, the princess destroyed a Hollow Man, and Ben swivelled around to find most of their brigade still standing, and no more Hollow men. Nobody moved for a few seconds, refusing to believe that it was over. And to Ben's endless chagrin, it soon proved not to be. Even as they watched, a wisp blew into the camp and crashed headfirst into a grave. A rotted corpse burst from the ground, gazing at the gathering with dead eyes and wafting a stench so foul Ben was certain he wouldn't get the smell out for weeks.
"Leftenant Simmons! I specifically instructed you to remain buried!" Swift yelled. The princess' concern and anger was palpable, and her fingers flickered with Will once more.
"Oh, doesn't anyone follow orders around here anymore?!" Ben yelled. He was tired, he was dirty, and he smelt awful. All the soldier wanted was for the fighting to end so that he could go back to Bowerstone and take an hour long soak in a hot, scented bath. The last thing he saw was the princess' grim smile, because Simmons exploded in a force that knocked out every single non-Hero in the area. That memory was coupled with the sound of Rina shooting off another expletive.