Reports had come in from Zorzal's army with news on how the campaign was progressing. The scribe who'd written it filled the letters with all sorts of flowery language, embellishment of military action, and assurances of a quick victory, much to Lord Burke's disapproval. It was supposed to be a military report, not a letter of flattery. Regardless, once he'd managed to decipher the message's meaning, one thing became painstakingly clear.
They were losing.
Three weeks into their campaign, Prince Zorzal's army was ambushed by their enemy. The Saderans had claimed victory after forcing the ambushers to retreat, but Burke knew better. They'd lost over two thousand soldiers in that battle, and the enemy dead only numbered three hundred. This campaign wouldn't be an easy victory.
For Burke, and the British in Sadera as a whole, this was very bad. Lord Burke's influence was tied to Emperor Molt's power, and he'd planned everything around being able to control Molt. However, with these recent defeats, the Imperial Senate was losing faith in Molt's power and might even revolt.
That was bad for everyone involved. If the British Empire wished to expand its trade influence to Sadera, they would need a capable, stable, and friendly government in charge.
The problem was that Lord Burke didn't know how he'd ensure that happened. Saderan hegemony over its neighbors was already being challenged, and if things got worse there could be war. Even worse, a certain Admiral Harrington was actually encouraging this by selling weapons to some minor noble named Lord Borek.
Lord Burke would have to exchange some harsh words with the man about British foreign policy in Falmart.
Sadera's control over its vassals and neighbors was supposed to have been secured by a quick conquest demonstrating its military power. Unfortunately, it seemed that conquest would not be quick at all, and all it currently was demonstrating was Saderan incompetence. Prince Zorzal apparently wasn't a very good general.
"What can I do…?" he mused to himself.
Realistically, Lord Burke himself couldn't do much to influence the outcome of Zorzal's campaign; he was a diplomat, not a soldier. However, he did have authority over someone who did have that ability.
Burke had an idea.
He took up a piece of paper and grabbed his pen. The writing instrument was from Birmingham, the world's predominant pen manufacturer, and had served him well throughout the years. Burke may not be a soldier, but he was a damn good diplomat, and his pen gave him the ability to influence men leagues away. The pen was indeed mightier than the sword.
To Captain Jack Campbell of Her Majesty's Army,
I have read many accounts of your brave and heroic actions at the Battle of Dragonscale, your skirmishes with banditry, and of the most recent fighting that took place against the Warrior Bunnies. It is because of these actions that I have placed both my own faith and that of the entire British Empire in you. The Saderan Empire must not lose this war.
Your mission's objective has changed. Gaining Prince Zorzal's favor is no longer the primary reason for your joining in his campaign. Your new objective is to guide the Saderan forces to victory, no matter what liberties or actions you must take. As of this moment, you are released from the authority of Prince Zorzal and are given independent command of your cavalry troop. I do not care what you do with this newfound liberty, just so long as you use it to win this war.
Your Empire needs you, captain. Do not fail it.
-Lord Webster Burke, Representative of Her Majesty's Government in Sadera
Jack read the letter at least a dozen times. He was supposed to win the war for the Saderans. How the fuck does he expect me to do that?
He put the letter aside and yawned. Grabbing his pith helmet, Jack exited his tent and watched as thousands of men woke up around him. Bryant approached him and handed Jack a cup of hot tea; it was a small blessing on a cold morning.
The army had decided to make camp for a few days while they treated the wounded, and Zorzal decided on a course of action. They'd camp directly in front of a large forest with the road they were following cutting directly through it; Jack figured there was most likely an ambush coming up ahead, so he was thankful Zorzal had the sense to make camp before entering it.
However, Zorzal was still stubborn as ever, and he refused to send scouts into the woods for some unknown reason. The man's lack of foresight had gone beyond annoying; it had become infuriating.
Behind him, Bozes Co Palesti stepped out of Jack's tent and scurried away to put on her armor. Bryant raised an eyebrow at his captain, and Jack shrugged. They both went back to sipping their tea.
"So what's the plan today?" Bryant asked.
Jack yawned, looking over the camp. "More of the same, I suppose."
"No luck with Zorzal so far?"
"No luck indeed." Jack grimaced as he recalled the last time he tried to convince the prince that they needed to send out scouts.
Bryant sighed into the morning air.
"Although… I did receive a message from Lord Burke this morning."
"Let me guess. Orders to wipe Prince Zorzal's arse?"
Jack chuckled while shaking his head. "In light of recent events, I've been granted independent command over our troop."
There was a flash of disbelief over Bryant's face. "You're serious?" Disbelief soon faded to joy. For the first time in days, Bryant gave a genuine smile.
Jack clapped his shoulder and smiled with him. "No more following Prince Zorzal's orders."
Bryant laughed. "I believe our chances of surviving this campaign just increased dramatically."
"Aye…" Jack replied. "If only that were true for the rest of them," he said, gazing at the thousands of Saderan soldiers still under Zorzal's command.
Bryant nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to do what they can't then."
Jack finished his tea and decided he'd spent enough time standing around. "I'll go and see if Zorzal is willing to listen to reason today. Maybe we'll be lucky and the esteemed prince had a good night's rest."
"Maybe we'll be lucky and the prince fell onto his sword in the night…" Bryant muttered.
Jack left his lieutenant behind, and he strode through the Saderan camp. Around him, soldiers greeted him and saluted, even men who were technically of higher rank than he was. Interestingly, they used the open palmed salute of the British Army rather than the traditional Saderan salute.
He saluted them back. The British cavalrymen were rather popular among Saderan troops; their actions had been critical in causing the Warrior Bunnies to retreat, and without them many more Saderan lives would have been lost. Any bad blood between the British and Saderans had quickly evaporated after the battle, and Jack found himself as a hero among the rank and file soldiers.
At the same time, Prince Zorzal was losing favor among the common soldiers. His arrogant nature and harsh punishments meant that Zorzal had never been well liked by his men, but the battle's outcome revealed a harsher and less forgivable sin: Zorzal was incompetent. No man wanted to trust their life to a leader like Zorzal, and there were already whispers of desertion or even mutiny. Jack hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.
"Captain Cap-Bell!" A burly man wearing the garb of a Saderan centurion called to him. His pronunciation of Jack's name was appalling, but he said it with good intentions.
"Centurion Varro," Jack greeted in Latin.
Varro grinned. "On your way to Prince Zorzal's tent?"
"Of course."
"Trying to get him to send scouts into the forest?"
"As always."
"Do you think you'll be successful?"
Jack shook his head.
Varro frowned. "Why try then?"
"Because no one else will," he replied with a shrug.
They stopped just outside Zorzal's tent. Inside, Jack could hear the Prince enjoying the company of several female slaves he'd brought with him.
"I like you, Cap-Bell, and so do my men." Varro disclosed. "We appreciate that you try to speak sense to the Prince, but I do not think he will listen."
"Someone has to try," Jack insisted.
Varro was silent for a second. He sighed. "Good luck then."
The centurion left him to face the prince alone. Jack heard Zorzal's activities dying down, so he straightened his uniform and raised his voice just loud enough for him to hear. "Your highness, I have a matter I wish to discuss with you."
"Come in."
Jack ducked into the tent and found himself looking at two naked women, Zorzal's slaves, and the prince himself. He averted his eyes as soon as he was inside.
"What is it you want, outworlder?" he spat out.
Jack did his best to hide his irritation for the man. "Scouts, your highness. It would be in everyone's interests to send out a scouting party and ensure the path is clear. If it pleases you, I can-"
"You've already asked me, outworlder. The answer is no." Zorzal turned away from Jack and focused on the slaves next to him.
"Your highness, there is simply no conceivable reason for us not to-"
Zorzal's head snapped towards Jack. "Why are you still here? I gave you your answer."
Jack's hands tightened into fists. "Your highness, we need to properly understand the terrain and opposition we are about to march-" He was cut off by the giggles of Zorzal and one of his slave girls.
For a brief moment, Jack's hand found itself on the handle of his revolver. The Saderan soldiers wouldn't miss the prince, and they'd have a much easier campaign once command had been transferred to someone else. Do it you coward. No one will stop you.
He let go of his pistol and instead tried to appeal once more to the prince. "Your highness-" Jack suddenly stopped himself. He didn't need the prince's permission; Lord Burke had released him from Zorzal's authority. "I'll be on my way."
The prince didn't even notice as Jack left his tent.
Why didn't I think of that immediately?
"Bryant!" he called as he got back to where his men were encamped.
The lieutenant rubbed his eyes and put down his breakfast. "Yes, captain?"
"I want the troopers assembled and ready to march within half an hour. No horses, but make sure everyone's got their carbine, pistol, and sabre."
"Yes, sir!" Bryant replied. "What are we doing, sir?"
Jack smiled then he broke into a laugh. "We're going scouting."
Lieutenant Duncan noticed the commotion. "Didn't the prince say that-"
Jack cut him off. "Fuck that, lad! We're doing this on our own accord!" He could see lancers coming out of their tents and watching the exchange. "Everyone off your lazy arses! We've got a job to do!"
They moved into the forest in a widely spread skirmish line. Each man had their carbine cradled in their arms as they did their best to keep a lookout for enemy patrols. Everyman was on foot; the forest was too thick to be riding through it.
While they typically spent most of their time on horseback, the lancers weren't unaccustomed to fighting on foot; the necessity of the modern age had meant that the days when cavalry were purely cavalry were over. Nowadays, every cavalryman was capable of being an infantryman if the situation necessitated it; thus, why they carried carbines in addition to pistols, sabres, and lances.
Jack led the skirmish line from the front, and his two lieutenants were posted near the flanks. If there was an ambush waiting in this forest, Jack's men would find it.
Fear was very present in the air; there was constant tension from the knowledge that at any moment they could stumble upon an enemy force. When men are scared, they grow tired easily, and Jack's men were no different. Being constantly on alert was an extremely exhausting task, and after thirty minutes of trudging through the brush, Jack's men were tired.
He held his hand into the air, calling for a short rest. Ahead of them he could see a large ridge that impeded their path, it would be even more tiring to climb it, but Jack had no other option.
The lancers drank from their canteens, nibbled on bits of biscuit, and some of the braver men even managed a short nap. It was all in silence; the fear of a hidden enemy weighed on everyone's mind. After ten minutes of rest, they were ready to move again.
It was a grueling hike up the ridge. The further they went up, the steeper it seemed to get, and the harder it was to climb. Towards the top, men were forced to haul themselves from one tree to the next just to make progress. Jack stumbled and fell and as a result he fell behind the main line. He managed to stand himself up and keep going.
A scream came from the top of the ridge, someone's pistol discharged a shot, and one of Jack's men shouted, "For Queen and Country!" Men who'd reached the top began to open fire with their carbines.
Jack suddenly had the energy necessary to sprint up the ridge. He pushed his way through bushes and branches, ignoring the scratches he was gaining and the pain his not quite healed wounds from the previous battle were inflicting on him.
Then he found himself at the top.
A dozen things went through his mind at once. The ridge plateaued into semi flat ground at the top, and an encampment was a couple hundred feet from the edge. At the edge, maybe twenty Warrior Bunnies were fighting his men. Most of the lancers-
A blur of motion came at him. Jack raised his carbine and fired.
The warrior charging at him took the bullet to her stomach, stumbled slightly, and kept charging. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!
Jack was tackled to the ground. His carbine fell from his grip, and the Warrior Bunny brought her sword up to skewer him whole.
He panicked. An uncontrollable desire came over him. A desire not to die.
His arm lashed out and made contact with the warrior. Jack didn't know where he hit, but it caused her to recoil. He grabbed at his belt for something, anything. Something heavy met his grip so he seized it.
Jack's arm lashed out again, this time holding the object. It struck the warrior in her face and allowed him to throw her off him.
He was on his knees now; he scrambled over and pinned the Warrior Bunny down with his weight. Jack raised his arm and brought the object down on her. She was still moving, so he did it again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, she stopped moving.
Jack scrambled away from the dead woman. He realized that the object he'd used to beat her to death with was his canteen; it was cracked and covered in blood. Jack grabbed his carbine off the ground and loaded a new cartridge into it.
The Warrior Bunnies were retreating to their camp. Jack didn't have time for a proper headcount, but he didn't think any of his men had been lost. They needed to push their advantage while they had it. Their foes were disorganized and running away for now, but that could change. Decisiveness was the key here, but at the same time he didn't want to fall into a trap.
"Bryant! Take fifteen of our best shots and have them set an ambush at the bottom of the ridge!"
"Sir-"
"Just do it!" Jack shouted.
Bryant nodded and started collecting men. Jack turned to his remaining lancers.
"They're running, lads! After them!" Jack shouted. He started sprinting after the Warrior Bunnies, the lancers following behind.
At full sprint, they reached the Warrior Bunny encampment in a very short amount of time, and they swept over the camp with a mad fury. Jack saw panicked Warrior Bunnies coming out their tents. They were unprepared to face the charging soldiers, so they got cut down by sword and shot. His men felt unstoppable.
But the further into the camp they charged, the more confidence Jack lost. The camp was large, far larger than Jack had expected. He soon saw that the enemy they were chasing had them far outnumbered. They were only succeeding because the enemy was disorganized and in shock.
He hoped the enemy would stay that way.
Delilah charged out of her tent in a mad fury. The Saderans and their outworlder mercenaries had surprised her camp and were killing her warriors. That wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be the one who surprised them, not the other way around. Queen Tyuule had trusted her with the ambush, now she was failing.
She couldn't let that happen.
Blade in hand, Delilah leapt at the nearest outworlder and took him to the ground. The man had half a second to register shock before Delilah's short sword severed his neck.
She looked around at the battlefield. Her forces were retreating, and the outworlders were slaughtering them in the process. Their magic staves spat deadly fire, killing from a distance, and their fearsome charge put fear even in Delilah's heart.
Yet, through the chaos around her, Delilah saw that the outworlders only had a few dozen men. A few dozen men were routing her force of more than a hundred warriors. Humans shouldn't have been capable of that.
"We should be winning…" she muttered to no one in particular. Delilah realized what she had to do.
She ran with a fury. As a Warrior Bunny, Delilah could sprint far faster than any human could, and she used every bit of that natural advantage to catch up with her fleeing comrades. Several of the outworlders' magic staves sounded off behind, but none hit her.
"Turn back and fight! Turn back!" Delilah roared at her fellow warriors. "There's less than forty of them!"
It wasn't an immediate thing but rather a trickle. Slowly but steadily, the warriors slowed their retreat. Then, like a great tidal wave, they turned around and charged at the outworlder mercenaries. A hundred proud Warrior Bunnies with sharp steel came barreling down at the Empire's lackeys. They would not be conquered so easily.
"Fuck…" Jack's fears were materializing in front of him. The enemy had rallied, and now they were charging, outnumbering them almost three to one. Now was not the time for a heroic last stands.
"Fall back! Retreat! Run for the ridge!"
Jack tried to be the last man to fall back; he didn't want to leave anyone behind, but that turned out to be impossible. Some men were simply too slow or too far behind, so they got cut to pieces by the incoming Warrior Bunny charge. He could mourn them later. For now, he needed to run.
He pumped his legs, fear and panic driving them faster than he thought humanly possible. As he reached the ridge, Jack managed to peak a look behind him.
Bad idea.
Terror gripped his heart; they were gaining on him.
Jack rushed down the hill. His run was more of a panicked stumble than a proper sprint, yet he managed to stay on his feet the entire way down. The enemy charge was coming after him.
A familiar voice sounded out through the woods. Jack's panic riddled mind couldn't figure out how it was familiar, but it was familiar. "Volley fire present!"
He kept running. That was the only thing he could do. Run.
"Aim!"
The Warrior Bunnies were maybe just ten meters behind him now.
"Fire!"
Delilah had victory in her grasp. The mercenaries were retreating under the force of her warriors. It would be a shallow victory with so many warriors lost, but it would be a victory nonetheless.
They sprinted down the hill with a grace the humans did not possess. Many had been lost in the initial fight, and now each warrior was on a quest for blood; they wanted vengeance. Delilah was no different. She wanted blood too.
Loud cracks suddenly deafened her. It was like a thunderstorm had come out of thin air and unleashed its fury. For several moments, all she heard was a distant ringing.
Then there were screams.
Delilah watched the warriors in front of her drop to the ground, either dead or dying. Their wounded screams shattered the confidence she held just moments ago. The Warrior Bunnies stopped their charge.
Then it happened again.
More loud cracks deafened the air, only to be replaced seconds later with the screams and cries of dying warriors. Delilah saw where the destruction had come from. A group of the mercenaries had hid themselves in the brush, unseen by the charging Warrior Bunnies until it was too late.
They let loose their destruction again.
More screams followed. The outworlders they'd been chasing had begun to turn back and face them; they too let loose their thunderous destruction. Her force of over a hundred warriors was reduced to almost nothing.
It's not fair. I had won.
The last of her warriors decided to make a final stand. They charged the outworlders with their last remaining strength. They died all the same.
Delilah gazed at her fallen comrades. Nothing made sense. She should have won. Queen Tyuule had assured her that she would win. Queen Tyuule lied.
Why am I still alive? Did they want her as a slave? Was she some kind of trophy? The captured commander that they would show off to their Saderan masters and receive gold in exchange?
She didn't know.
Nine men. Jack had lost nine men to the Warrior Bunnies, more men than they'd lost ever since crossing through the Gate. Not even the dragon had killed that many.
Nine men in exchange for a hundred and eleven.
Any other man would have seen it as a great victory. Not Jack. He'd gotten excruciatingly lucky. First when his men managed to completely surprise the Warrior Bunnies in their encampment, and then second when Bryant's ambush had saved them from complete disaster.
This was supposed to be a scouting mission, not an assault on an enemy encampment. He should have ordered a retreat as soon as they'd stumbled on the camp. Instead, he'd lead nine of his men to early graves.
Jack sighed and pushed those thoughts from his head. It wasn't worth agonizing about what had already happened. Instead, he focused on the present. He was entering camp as a hero.
The lancers marched into camp, bloody, beat, and utterly exhausted. Still, Jack didn't dismiss them quite yet. He needed to make a point to Prince Zorzal about the benefits of scouting, and fifty lancers would help him do that.
Forty one. He mentally corrected.
Saderan soldiers came out from their tents and began cheering. That did a lot to boost his men's morale; few things were more satisfying than being recognized for your actions. Jack could see his lancers straighten their postures and fix their uniforms as the praise came in.
He arrived at Prince Zorzal's tent. The prince was already outside, having heard the commotion, and he looked at Jack's tired and bloody men with something Jack had never seen the man express. Admiration?
Beside him, Bryant put down their prisoner for Zorzal to inspect. Delilah looked like she was ready to butcher every man in camp.
"Well done, captain." Jack blinked; that was the first time Zorzal had addressed him by his rank. "I'm glad the scouting mission I assigned you went well."
Jack wanted to smack the man, but found it wasn't worth the effort in his tired state. Zorzal's arrogant idiocy unfortunately hadn't disappeared as he'd hoped.
The prince inspected Delilah with hungry eyes. "Well done indeed… I think I'll be using her tonight."
Delilah glared daggers into the prince's face.
"You can't do that," Jack protested.
Zorzal looked puzzled. "She's our prisoner. Of course I can."
"She's my prisoner," Jack corrected. "And… I will be using her," he forced out with a grimace.
Delilah shifted her glare to Jack, but she said nothing.
Prince Zorzal's face shifted from confusion to humor. "Ahh… My mistake, captain. I hope you enjoy her."
"I will…" he choked.
Chapter 19, here we are. It's fun to be back writing things again.
Perseus12: Interesting ideas. God Save the Queen.
hellisonfire345: Thanks for the support.
xjamesx70: I've found myself writing longer chapters recently, maybe it's all the battles that make them longer. Things escalated quickly here as well, but that's how war is.
WarGlory: Glad I could deliver.
Papon777: Also interesting ideas. God Save the Queen.
