Rumors Spread

Ulrich and William reached the campus late into the night, then sleeping for the remainder of it, about 4 hours. It would be Saturday, which meant less classes and a chance to catch the group. Ulrich woke up as his alarm went off. Looking down at himself, he realized that he had been holding the book the entire time he was asleep. Quickly getting dressed, he saw that Odd was already downstairs. Ulrich carefully tucked the journal down in his bag and headed down the steps.

At the table, Ulrich immediately whipped out the journal. "You'll never guess what went down while you guys were gone."

Aelita looked him dead in the eye. "Let me guess. More death and destruction?"

"Well yes, it's a journal about someone's perspective of war, so duh." William said. "But that's not what we mean."

"Then what?" Jeremy asked.

Ulrich flipped the page open to the ribbon and said, "I think Odd especially will like this." Ulrich cleared his throat and re-read the line. "My name is Odici Dellrobi, the richest mercenary to step into France." Odd stopped eating immediately.

"Dude, that's so cool! Is he an ally to your ancestor dude?" Odd said. A wide smile had spread across his face, he was filled with joy, or maybe something else.

"Yeah, he's hired to protect a military strategist that arrives in the area 'soon.'" William said, referencing the book.

Ulrich closed the book and tucked back away. "How about he meet up after class and read more on him?" Odd nodded his head, but the other's seemed uninterested.

"No thanks." Jeremy said, the others agreed.

"Whatever, their loss, am I right?" Ulrich asked. Odd shook his head and William agreed. "Alright then. Let's meet up in our room after classes." With that, they agreed, and separated. William walked off with Yumi to class and the others headed for History.

As Ulrich entered, the teacher approached him. "So how far are you? Done?" He said this sarcastically.

"No, but-" Ulrich started, pulling the book out of his bag.

He teacher scoffed, then said, "Well big surprise! Now get to work like the rest." He sharply pointed his finger towards Ulrich's desk. He walked over and sat down, opening his book to continue reading. The teacher swiftly came over and slammed the book shut on Ulrich's fingers.

Pulling them out, he said, "What was that for?"

His teacher leaned down and looked at him dead in the eyes. In a low voice, he growled out as seriously as possible, "Get to work."

Ulrich opened his mouthed to protest, but decided against it. He put the journal away and looked around the room for examples of working. People were putting together their projects. Ulrich breathed a heavy sigh, pulled out some supplies and got to 'work.' Satisfied, the teacher walked away.

Later that day, they met up in Ulrich's dorm. Odd sat on his bed with Kiwi in his lap. William sat in a chair off to the side and Ulrich was on his bed. His slowly opened the book up and found where he had left off. "April 15, 1429. After the successful battle of Hafleur, we had already reinforced the southern border, we needed to only conquer the base to the east, Navarre.

Our men lined up as more Roman reinforcements entered port. This would be happening for at least the next 2 weeks. Our now bolstered 6,000 planned to split in two. The old regiment was to march to Navarre, the new soldiers split up and were sprinkled amongst the two pre-owned bases.

Sunlight poured into the windows of the fort. I had chosen a bad place to sleep, as a thin slit sunlight poured into my eyes. Rolling over, I nearly toppled off my bed. Now groggy, but awake, I stumbled to my personal chest and dug out some clothes. Slipping them on, I then headed for the armory to don my armor. I lifted my belt from beneath my bed, which was heavy with my swords. Strapping it on, I then walked my way out of the male barracks. William and Jonathan quickly followed.

We arrived in the armory and hastily put on our armor. After we stepped out, Odici approached us. Seeing him in the light, he was rather majestic in appearance, as if a mercenary could. Most were looked down upon for a lack of morals that didn't involve money. Although he appeared scrawny in body build, he was highly agile and did show the presence of some muscles. His purple cloak whipped in a sudden, strong gust of wind. "Alright, Jeremiah told me to join you on any offensive arrangement. Put me where you need me, I can lead any archer unit."

Jonathan glanced about Hermes, then said. "Odici, we want you to lead a long bow unit. Stay behind the formation, lead multiple units, and strike down the French troops that try to push through or escape." Odici bowed lightly, then went towards the stables.

William looked towards Jonathan. "What's the plan?"

Jonathan took a few steps, then whipped back around. "We will take cannons to the hill between the bases, threatening to fire upon the walls. However, the enemy will hopefully not see through our deception." Jonathan explained. "They'll sooner lower the drawbridge gate instead of risking it shot down, as that means they can't leave. We use that open gate to force through the defenses that will certainly be thick. The rest of the plan is to hold the three bases till nightfall. In the next couple days from then, Jeremiah will arrive and deliver the long term goal with a strategy."

"Why not just blow down the gate?" I asked.

"That way we can use it later." Jonathan said.

"Sounds reasonable." William said. "Let's move out then." William and I began towards Navarre, but Jonathan grabbed both of us.

"Where do you think you two are going? We need leaders on defense of the two bases. William, you stay here. Ulfrid, you get to Hafleur."

"What about Marc and George?" William asked.

"It's a new day, with a new operation, and a new bag of gold. They're elsewhere. Maybe even an enemy now." I huffed then bowed.

"I honor your judgment." I said, then went for the stables. There, my bright white horse stood tall, shining like the innocence stolen from me. I boarded my steed and called out for my unit. About 50 men at arms approached, all in their special armor. I called out amongst them. "Today we stand to defend the name of Britain, and of our ancestors." My left sword pointed out toward Hafleur. "Onward men. We defend that city." They gave a cheer and then began the march for Hafleur.

William gave my men a nod. My little sister came around the corner and called my name. "Ulfrid!" She yelled. I turned to her. "I want to come with you." She said.

"I'm sorry, but you have to stay here. It's much safer. I'm sure that William will keep you company." I looked up at William, who gave a curt nod. He whistled for her attention. She looked over at him, and he waved his hand. She ran off towards him and he directed her towards the walls.

I turned with my horse and marched towards Hafleur. Most of my 1,500 men had already made it into Hafleur and were taking up defensive positions. I quickly snapped the reins and rode off.

Within minutes, I was in town, trotting past troops and civilians alike. A plague doctor was walking down the street, people parting way for him. They feared the bird like mask. It was a sign, a sign reminiscent of the Masque of the Red Death. People feared him and cowered in his presence. He approached a person's home and knocked.

A young man opened the door. Next to him sat several cases of clothes and other commodities. He bowed and stepped out of the home, followed by his wife, and one son. The doctor held up two fingers, making sure they were the only ones left. The young man answered, 'Yes, one son, and one daughter.' He was teary eyed and keeping his best from breaking down. The others were already in tears, grief stricken with the infection of their family.

I continued on behind the lines and watched the eastern side of the city, staring out at the vast expanse of land between Hafleur and Navarre. I could see cannons in the hazy distance. A large cluster of soldiers were standing near the cannons, bows ready to pull, a foot on the bottom of the bow. Several hundreds of others were marching towards the base. Using the spyglass, I could see the fort in the distance. It appeared to be a small community sitting on an island carved with a moat. The drawbridge was up and a massive wooden wall stood with pointed tips spearing the sky. A massive structure stood on a hill behind the rest of the city with a French flag flying high at the top.

I could see the arrows flying for the city ahead, and cannons firing over the walls. The drawbridge would fall soon enough. Then a report came from the south. A soldier came up to me. "Sir!" He said.

I looked at him. "Yes?" I asked. "Troops are approaching from the other side of the river. What should we do?"

I turned and began for the southern edge of the city. It told him as I began to gallop, "Get archers prepared in the fields outside of town and strike out their cavalry first. More orders will come." The private, most likely, bowed and then charged onwards ahead of me. When I arrived, I saw the 2/3 of the archers moving outside of the city, the other third were setting up in the cottages of the city. Using my spyglass, I could see about 500 coming across the river and about 150 of them were cavalry.

Several archers were getting anxious, arrows drawn. I trotted out ahead of the rest and lifted my left sword. With the enemy army within 250 yards, I yelled out, "Fire!" As my left hand came down. 200 arrows ripped through the air, about 175 finding their targets. 2/3 of the cavalry fell dead. The formation was in a frenzy, cavalry were scattering and men were rushing. Then my hand came up and pointed forward. "Charge!" I yelled. Another 600 charged out of the city towards the enemy. Infantry numbered 300 and cavalry 100. The other 200 were miscellaneous British troops.

The remaining cavalry pulled in for a pincer attack, but another salvo of arrows sliced into their numbers, reducing it to zero. The remaining archers moved back behind the buildings as crossbows fired over our troops. Another salvo of arrows caught the French of guard, especially since they could see the archers retreating into the city. Several bodies dropped as pikes were lowered towards our cavalry. Being at the front of the formation, they had plenty of room to scatter out and come back around into the axe and shield soldiers. I saw javelins go flying into the pike men, striking them down and sending the pikes to the ground. I watched as our troops decimated the French. Within a few minutes of skirmishing, the surviving 35 French soldiers pulled back, we had experienced even less casualties then the number of their surviving troops.

Turning my attention back around, I saw a large mass of British and Roman soldiers headed back out of Hermes and straight for us. At least a couple hundred cavalry led them, and at the head of that was William and one of his two underlings. He pulled up at the edge of town. I came riding through the town to meet him with my two underlings. "What happened!?" I yelled at him.

"It was all so fast. We were distracted, watching the battle when a pincer attack hit us. Two divisions had deployed from Navarre, and attacked us from two sides. We were so surprised, that I pulled out. We had already accumulated 300 casualties by the time they hit 75."

"So you just pulled out?" I said, calmer now. "We'll take that back in a few minutes." Then I looked around. I grew angry as I asked the question, "Where is my sister?"

William looked around for a few seconds, then back at me. He was pale in the face. "Uh… Back in the base?" He said this as if asking a question.

I lifted a fist, but held back my rage. Instead, I turned back to my men. "Men! We're moving out!" I screamed this out, then charged towards Hermes.

William called back, "What do you want me to do?"

My head whipped around, then screamed, "Stay on guard and stay aware!"

With that, 1,500 soldiers pulled out of the north entrance to town and came to a screeching halt. They formed up in two blocks of 750 each. A space wide enough for me was between the blocks. One underling sat on his horse at the head of each block, and I in the center. I could see archers standing atop the walls, arrows trained on us. They were ready and waited for a full frontal charge. Turning back to my soldiers, I called out, "Split into your respective blocks, one side to the right, one to the left. Watch for my signal, and we'll form back up down the center." I could see my troops stepping around anxiously, not sure of the success of this maneuver. But as long as they follow my orders, they'll come out fine.

I turned and charged forward to the right. The other block started towards the left side of the base. I could see arms moving about within the base, calling out for reinforcing troops on either side. I could see the formation directly in front of us thinning out.

Then I made a motion with my hand and swept left. The underling on the other side made the same motion and swept right. Caught by surprise by the feigned pincer attack, the front formation was caught in a pincer attack of their own creation. Soldiers started rushing for the front lines, but were too late. Our formation dashed theirs into the dust. I leapt from my horse and stuck a knee out. A French soldier was quickly crushed beneath my knee. He had knives in his hands, but was unable to defend himself as I brought my blade down on his head.

Standing swiftly, I blocked an incoming knife and stuck my shorter blade out. Another clash, followed by swinging my sword out of the first man and across the throat of the second. They both dropped as soldiers were dashed away into the dirt. Our formation quickly pushed into the base. A line of 100 short bows fired into our crowd. 50 allies dropped dead, including one of my underlings. One arrow came to me, but I swung my sword, smashing it in mid air.

I could feel tiny splinters bounce off my face. The cavalry immediately pushed through, slamming through the archer line before they could reload. A few remainders fled away. One in specific fired straight at me. I leaned to the left, watching it strike a French defender in the back. He instinctively reached back and received a sword across the chest. As he turned to run, I raced up behind him. With both swords flashed out, they swept from right to left across the nape of his neck. Blood splashed out and sprayed onto the ground. While I couldn't see his face, I was sure it was frozen in fear. Then I heard a scream.

My head whipped up to see the base defender. He was standing tall, with two small axes in his hands. I could see his eyes full of rage paired with his skin a deep red from blood flowing to cool his quaking body. The entire battle had grinded to a halt. French, British, and Romans all stared forward at this one man. Arrows had stopped flying, blades stopped flashing, and innards no longer dripping from fresh wounds. His right arm was pointed straight at me, axe in hand. The other was high in the air. He yelled out for all to hear, "That was my brother! You will pay for his death!" With that, a circle had formed around the two of us. Archers had began to come down from the wall.

Only the commander and I stood within the circle. They wanted to see one of us die. His left arm came back, then flew forward. His axe came spinning at a break neck pace. It was garnished in red, stained from the blood of fallen enemies. I sidestepped and stuck out my hand. Catching it by the handle, I took a few steps forward, then whipped my arm about in a tight circle.

The throw was fairly poor, flying high over his head. It landed with a sickening thunk! amongst the crowd of French soldiers. One of his men passed a new one to the commander, and he charged straight for me. I quickly pulled out my left sword and crossed them. In a blinding rage, the base commander slashed his axes near randomly.

I shifted back and forth, expertly blocking or dodging his attacks. Each one bounced off my blades. Although we both were experiencing similar emotions, he obviously hadn't experienced the same kind of trauma I had when young. I remained calm and collected, even with my sister in their clutches. He on the other hand, had completely lost his track of sense, blindly and violently reacting. He would be easy.

The man swung heavily, nearly losing his balance and shifting forward. I planted the blunt side of both sides against his back and pushed myself behind him. My swords immediately came up and slashed across his shoulders. The leather holding his chest plates on his body were sliced in two, and they both fell. He began to whip around, axes in hand. They were aimed for my chest. My right heel came up and was jabbed out. My steel boot smashed his jaw. What happened next was practically slow-motion.

As the teeth and blood flew from his mouth, he twisted around to expose his back. In that moment, both of my blades came up, slashing from the top of his buttocks to the top of his shoulder blades. He let out a scream as the deep incisions sliced into his flesh body. His body lifted off the ground a whole foot. As he started to fall forward, my blades pointed to the earth and came down. They both punched through his brutalized body, hitting the ground before his corpse did.

In the wake of this, the French started scattering to save themselves. My men quickly took chase, slaughtering as many as they could. I turned towards the barracks to find my little sister. Near the barracks sat a plain, brown horse with a plain leather saddle. Out came a soldier in tight, black steel. It was layered and had a cloak like armor structure donned over it. Over his shoulder was my sister, crying heavily. My body was frozen, refusing to move in the wake of this sight. Tears were streaming from her face onto the cloak of the soldier. He placed her on the back of the horse like luggage. He then slapped the reins and rode past me, out towards Navarre.

Another French horse rode past me, receiving a blade in the chest. The soldier fell from the horse, coughing up blood like a madman. I leapt onto the back and cracked the reins with full force. The horse reared back in protest, but then charged forward. Fortunately, this unknown soldier wasn't very fast with the extra person on back. He was passing between some brush when I caught him. A sword flashed out, as did his. Our blades clashed in the air, again and again. I then stood up on the back of my galloping horse and jumped forward. My boot was planted onto his back, pushing him off the side and rolling onto the ground. The horses slowed to a halt.

He got back onto his feet, spatting on the ground as he did so. "You don't look like a Brit." He said as he wobbled on his feet.

"And you don't look like a French," I said. "So mercenary, who are you, and who sent you?"

"Like I'd give away confidential information." The mercenary said. "But I will tell you this. I am Magnus, one of the best you'll ever see, and the last." He ran forward. I pulled out another sword and clashed steel. The rest of his unit came out from within the brush, all 20 bearing swords. They charged at me in a flurry. I jumped up and slashed my blade, severing the throat of the first. I landed on his fallen corpse, ducking then under several swords.

My swords crisscrossed, severing several men's legs open. As three dropped in pain, another charged, and I swung my blade up, knocking his from his hand. It landed in his back, taking him to the ground with it. Three more came at me. I stabbed deeply into the first one's stomach, and he fell back before I could dig it out. My right hand swept right, grabbing the sword out of the soldier with it in his back. In a flash, it was stuck inches deep left kidney of the second. The other slowed in surprise. My left sword flashed into the man's chest, and came back out. He collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood.

Two more charged. I swept the legs of them both, then brought the blades down on their throats, flashing blood into the air. I caught a scratch across my back and whipped around. As I turned, I saw remaining soldiers were all on the ground dead. Arrows had sliced deeply in their necks, chest, and other regions. The last man had tried to cut my spine, but an arrow caught him in the forehead, whipping him back and into the air.

I looked up and saw Magnus was nowhere to be found. Odici Was standing on a hill not a ¼ km from me. He waved his hand excitedly at me. I donned my stolen horse and rode straight towards him. I slowed to a halt and approached him on foot. Immediately, I barked out, "Where did Magnus go?"

Odici turned around and pointed at toward the moat. "Down there." Sure enough, a horse stood with my sister on the back, still tied up. On the ground laid Magnus, an arrow in his leg. He was gripping it tightly and he gritted his teeth. Behind him sat the city. The drawbridges were down, one even having the chains sliced. Behind the walls, smoke rose into the air amongst some flames that licked towards the sky. The cannons still had smoke rising from their barrels.

The horse charged down the hill straight for Magnus, who saw me coming and immediately began cowering from my approach. I halted next to his horse and lifted my sister off onto my horse. Using my sword, I carefully severed the rope around her wrists and ankles. She sat up on the horse as I dismounted. With slow steps, I soon found myself standing over Magnus, who was looking at me with guilt filled eyes. "You were simply following orders, now weren't you?" He answered with a slight nod.

I reached down and gripped the shaft of the arrow. With a single jerk, the arrow was free. His cry of both pain and relief reached into the heavens itself. "Why wouldn't you kill me?" He asked.

"I don't really know. Maybe if I was given more information, I might spare your life." I said, twirling my sword in hand.

"Alright! I'll tell you everything." He took a deep breath, then began. "I really don't know who sent me on this job, but I do know I was getting a big paycheck."

"What do you mean?" I asked as he tried to stand.

He then continued. "I was getting a Odici like payment for a simple job. I just had to capture the Hermes, and take your sister from the base. Then, deliver her to the soldiers waiting at Navarre."

"You mentioned Odici." I said. "Is there anything else you can provide about him?"

"Why would it matter to you?" Magnus asked back.

"He seems kind of mysterious. Just a little bit like he's hiding something."

"Then you're not the first to notice this trend. Us mercenaries have many theories about his origin. You see, he was a complete nothing for a long time. He was just another mercenary on the prowl for gold. Then one day, he scored big. In one day, from complete nothing to absolute everything. Most think he may hove preformed a great part in some battle. Others think he gained favor with a politician who decided to promote him across the land. A few, like myself, think he came from darker origins." Magnus then stopped, trying desperately to hobble away.

My hand tightly grasped his shoulder, then I said, "Explain this."

"I think that he practices black arts. He seems to take an unusual interest in the strange, as well as the servants among the plantations. We believe he worships a demon, and that he granted Odici his fame. That's all I know."

"What about Jeremiah Bradford?"

"He's about as corrupt as a politician can get." He took another deep breath, then continued. "He was recently off in Japan attempting to open trade. When he heard France was on the verge of defeat, he rushed straight back. Very suspicious. Rumors are going around that he's a traitor, so I'd be careful when he gets here."

I lifted Magnus up and sat him on his horse. "That's enough. Now get out of here before I change my mind." Magnus grimaced, then rode off towards a separate base. I looked upon the flag that stood within Navarre. It no longer flew a French flag, but instead a tattered British flag. Odici turned around, commanding 2/3 of the archers to move a cannon into the base, and the rest to help him move the others back to the other two bases. I ran over and began helping them move the cannon as my sister rode the horse back to base.

Someone on the French side had ordered the capture of my little sister. Who would do such a thing? The only people that know my sister is here are my allies. Someone in my ranks is a traitor.