"You know Captain, they've got a lot of permanent structures set up already." Hamilton said, glancing around the ops tent that Mitchel was still using as his makeshift office as if his commanding officer had simply failed to notice the barebones nature of his working environment. "Pretty sure you could move out of this place if you just poked the Colonel a little."
"Thanks for letting me know, but I haven't gone blind when you weren't looking." The captain answered dryly. "JSDF gets priority for most of what's been built, and there are others who need access to that space more than me, the intel geeks have been grumbling about it since we got here. Besides, it ain't like this is a super uncomfortable setup anyway."
"If you say so, sir." Hamilton eyed the plastic table that Mitchell was still using as his desk, clearly not buying what he was selling. It was a clear indication of inexperience, as this was his first real combat deployment as an initial tour marine who had only ever seen field conditions prior to this as part of training. He hadn't been forced through the grueling conditions that often were found in your average FOB in Iraq or Afghanistan that often were short on creature comforts with the mission being a priority. Compared to that, the Japanese had turned the Alnus Base into a paradise, including what was available to Company Level Officers like Mitchell in their individual room and board. Hamilton just didn't know enough to truly appreciate it.
But that was alright. The Private was still young and at least didn't have the know-everything attitude that Mitchell had at the man's age, so he was already more ahead of the game than he probably knew. It was why the captain had taken him under his wing in a way by having him work as a sort of assistant, wanting to foster the innate talent that he could see just below the surface. Leave at least something behind for the Corps when he finally was set free.
"Any updates on those we rescued in Bellhost village?"
"Yes sir, the Japanese sent over a report on them last night." The Private answered, picking up a weathered looking clipboard sitting atop a small pile of papers. "Their medical staff checked over the women after our corpsmen handed over custody. As we initially concluded, there were no serious injuries, a couple of broken bones here and there but nothing that can't be mended with what we have on hand. But the Japanese think that more than a couple have some serious mental scars, possibly some STIs, but they'd need to do some more study to see just how bad it is."
Mitchell nodded. It was soul crushing to think about what those women and girls probably had gone through before the Marine's arrival, stolen away from their homes and lives after seeing bandits kill their loved ones. Then being completely at the mercy of the depraved desires of those same bandits
'No sympathy for the monsters we put in the ground there.' He thought.
"Their next step is trying to track down if any of them have any living relatives they can relocate too." Hamilton frowned slightly. "You can guess how optimistic we should be about that possibility. For now, JSDF is setting them up in the refugee camp along with those the Third Recon picked up."
"If they keep using that place as a safety net for all the foreign nationals we don't know what to do with, it's going to run out of space real fast."
"Looks like they may be way ahead of you on that front." Hamilton answered, flipping over to a second page.
"Meaning?"
"Well don't quote this as gospel, since I'm pretty sure Colonel Jackson would have filled you in at this point if it was a sure thing, but there's a brief mention in the daily report that the Japanese are considering constructing a small town nearby the base to permanently house the refugees and other local allies."
That caused Mitchell to sit forward in surprise, not having heard the slightest whisper of any such undertaking. Building a civilian settlement next to a base while active hostilities were still ongoing?
"Who wrote that report?"
"A Lieutenant…Yanagida." He struggled slightly to pronounce the name correctly, handing over the clipboard. "One of the officers assigned to General Hazima's staff. He does mention that it's a bit contingent on how things go with Third Recon's mission to Italica. Whether or not they can establish some trade or whatever."
Mitchell skimmed over the report, focusing more on the second page where this supposed plan was brought up. There was very little in the way of details beyond what Hamilton had already described, leaving it almost as a dismissive footnote that didn't bear further elaboration. Did the Colonel even know that something like this was being considered? Or was the report supposed to act as a "gentle" introduction for the Marines that they hoped wouldn't be thought about too much?
Had this been an American run operation, the idea of building a dwelling for locals so close to where the troops lived and worked would have been entirely out of the question. The risk to security and opportunities for hostile powers to gather intelligence was just too great. But things were different in the Special Region, and the Japanese were going to run their own show their own way. Unfortunately, it still wasn't clear what in the hell the overall strategic objective for the military was even supposed to be. The Diet had claimed the Special Region as part of Japan in order to justify the deployment of the Self Defense Force into a land full of people who would almost certainly disagree that they were citizens of Japan. But the velvet glove style in which they had acted since arriving had more than a few people wondering if this was little more than an elaborate "forward defense" measure against another attack like had happened in Ginza.
Part of the problem, Mitchell knew, had to do with numbers. No matter how backwards in technology the Special Region was, there was still a lot of ground to cover, and the JSDF just didn't have enough manpower to both attempt to occupy even a decent chunk of it while keeping readiness levels at home at acceptable levels. The Americans and other allied nations could have been useful in that, but the Japanese were obviously reluctant to make use of any foreign troops in anything besides support operations. He suspected that there was likely a political element as well, though. Public opinion was divided on feelings about how the military should proceed, with some Warhawks calling for a full invasion in retaliation for being the victims of the initial aggression, while on the other end there were those in favor of just trying to seal the Gate between worlds shut so there could be no further crossover, or maybe even try to destroy it.
That left poor old General Hazima to try and meet the balancing act between political demands and military realities, all while also trying to explore an entirely new world with new societies using a coalition force that included his own soldiers who doubtlessly had their own opinions on how things should proceed and frustrated Americans who felt like they were being sidelined. Put in that context, Mitchell was kind of impressed the Commanding Officer seemed to be holding it together as well as he was. His strategy had always been a cautious one, but if this report about Third Recon was anything to go on, then it sounded like he was becoming more willing to strike out from Alnus Hill on a more regular basis rather than the occasional intel gathering or search and destroy operation. Where that would leave the Marines in all this was a different question, but one that was above the captain's paygrade. Let Colonel Jackson be the one to argue about whether or not to let a bunch of stays set up shop next to the base, it wasn't like a bunch of Medieval peasants could start mortaring them anyway.
"Well, this is all technically being claimed as Japanese clay." He said finally. "We're just 'guests' here, can't exactly do much besides complain if they decide to bring in some new neighbors."
"What if they play loud music all day and night? Shitty loud music, like country."
"File a complaint to the HOA."
"I joined the Corps so I wouldn't have to read and write, sir." Hamilton scoffed humorously, picking the clipboard back up. "Just glad we're doing something for those girls and not just leaving them to fend for themselves, especially those who don't have anywhere else to go."
"Yeah…well try not to lose that mindset. It might get tougher as time goes on." Mitchell answered, doing his best not to let old bitterness be audible in his tone. It had felt good to come to the rescue like that, and even he had to admit that the idea of having those who they helped close by so they could live more peacefully under constant protection by the Allied Forces was something that sat better with his moral compass than just leaving them to this world's monsters again. It gave him hope that maybe this time, things could be different. But that hope brought with it old wounds of failures, and preemptive anger towards those Japanese and Americans who would inevitably try to either take advantage of the situation or just tear down all their hard work outright.
Hamilton was smart enough to pick up on darker thoughts running through his CO's head, because he gave an exaggerated shrug like he was on some sitcom pining for an audience reaction.
"We gotta wait to hear back from Third Recon before deciding on any kind of mindset. Those are Itami's gang, remember? Last time they went out on a mission they found a dragon. They'll probably find another creative way to fuck things up in Itallica."
"Private, keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself, lest they end up manifesting into reality."
...
Their situation was growing more desperate by the moment, that was obvious enough to Kat as the orcs continued to wear down the defenders more and more without any signs of letting up. She let loose arrow after arrow, pinning the heads of any of the brutes who seemed close to breaking through the fragile line or tried to put too much pressure on the flank. Kat's blade too was certainly quenched of whatever bloodlust it might have possessed, as she had been forced to get up close and personal on more than one occasion to buy breathing room for the beleaguered shield bearers. But it wasn't enough, with both House Duron soldiers and Rangers falling at a rate that was unsustainable. They needed intervention by their allies beyond the Gate, yet there were no signs of them making an appearance.
More than enough time had passed for Joker and Reaper to kill the Warband Leader as Lord Duron had wanted, especially since she had seen with her own eyes how quickly they could cover ground on their small metal wagons. Something must have delayed them, or otherwise obstructed them from their goal. Had they somehow run afoul of the orcs before they had managed to get close enough to strike? That didn't seem likely, given how loud their weaponry was, it would have been audible even over the usual din of battle had they been forced into combat prematurely. What if they had gotten lost? That was more plausible, but Kat had personally witnessed their navigation skills when they had traversed the forest. And unless they had truly blundered and gone a great distance away, the sounds of clashing steel and dying soldiers would surely have drawn them towards the correction of their mistake.
Kat gritted her teeth, muttering a silent apology as she took a handful of arrows from the quiver of a fallen Ranger. None of them had considered that they might run out in a single battle, but even a lifetime of hunting and skirmishing against the Imperial Forces hadn't prepared them for this intensity of warfare. The Duron troops seemed to be faring little better, as they appeared to be rationing their arrows as well between the archers who had not been forced to pick up a sword and try to fill whatever gaps appeared in their tenuously thin line. And they were all rapidly starting to run short on the endurance needed to carry on what seemed like a never ending horde that was being funneled straight at them thanks to the battleground they had chosen.
This fight had to be brought to an end soon, or they would all be overrun and slaughtered. Something had to be done, but what?
Kat risked allowing some of her mental focus to shift away from the immediate threats, backing away just enough from the direct frontline to give herself a few crucial heartbeats of reaction time as needed. It was hard to hear her own thoughts over the sound of her own hammering heart and heavy breaths, let alone the chaos of battle hammering her senses from all sides.
They had to assume that the Soldiers in Green had managed to get into position as planned. If they hadn't… Well, then there wouldn't be much anyone could do. Better to focus on what could be done, even if it was grasping at straws. What was it that could have prevented Joker and Reaper from carrying out their part of the plan? The enemy path would be easy to make out even for a blind man, and they should have had a commanding view of the battlefield from the hillside where it was decided they would position themselves. What if the Orc Warlord hadn't made an appearance? That didn't seem likely, as a group this large needed close leadership in order to keep themselves from collapsing into infighting, more to the point Kat had never heard of any orc leader who would be content to issue orders from a faraway camp. Those who commanded hordes like these were just as bloodthirsty as the brigands they commanded. Even in a situation like this where they were being herded together in such proximity, one wouldn't-
Realization struck the half-elf like a thunderclap. Joker and Reaper had come from Alnus Hill, warriors whose home was somewhere in a world beyond the Gate where they probably had never even seen an orc before. They wouldn't be as familiar with the patterns of their ravenous warbands as those like the Forest Rangers or House Duron, nor with how to pick out their leaders in quick and easy ways. That may not have been a problem if they had chosen a different battlefield, one where the Warlord would easily stand apart from his forces within the battle lines. But Hexen, not knowing the truth of who his "mercenaries" were, had chosen a battleground that would allow the defenders the best opportunity to hold out as long as necessary for the pair to take out the Warlord. Forcing the orcs to come at them in this tightly packed fashion was indeed a solid plan for the highly outnumbered defenders, but it meant that the damned gray skins were like an ocean that was impossible for the inexperienced eye to make out just the right drop of water.
That had to be the answer, the two Soldiers in Green must still be at their hidden nest in the hillside, probably desperately looking for a target that they could not distinguish enough to risk giving away their position with a premature attack. But even being confident in her deduction, Kat felt an icy fist grip her guts, trying to figure out what exactly she or any of them could do about the situation. Even with her magic, it would be difficult to scale the steep hillside without any assistance, and take even more time to figure out exactly where the pair were to offer assistance. They didn't have that kind of time, but maybe there was another way…
Instead of climbing the hillocks, a new idea began to form in Kat's mind. She could make out several deviations within the ground of the rises that could be used as footholds. They were few and far between, but they might still be useful to someone with her abilities. A plan began to form in the Ranger's mind, one that was utterly reckless, arguably suicidal. Yet if it just partially succeeded, it could be their last chance for survival.
Kat shifted her position from the weakening right flank to where Camp Master Joakim and Hexen were in the midst of battle, practically having to grab one of them to get their attention. Both men were bloodied and exhausted like her, with the Lord's armor dented and even pierced in several locations while Joakim looked like he had nearly lost his right leg based on the blood soaking his pants and shoes.
"We need to focus all the arrows we have remaining on the left flank!" Kat had to shout to be heard. "Thin their ranks just long enough for me to break through!"
"You want to do what?!" Hexen's voice was coated in disbelief. "Why would you- "
"There's no time, Lord Duron!" She cut him off, using his official title to reinforce the urgency. "I have a plan to save us, but I have to act now or never!"
The nobleman gritted his teeth, but he could probably see just as clearly as Kat that at this point there was little to lose but everything to gain.
"Do as she says!" He ordered Joakim and Duke Raia. "And pray that the gods of war have not abandoned us yet."
Though seemingly on the verge of falling to his knees, the old Camp Master rallied the Rangers and Archers to redouble their efforts, raining down a terrible hail of arrows upon the orcs upon the indicated area of the front, causing a gap to appear between those who were pressing themselves against the shields and the flow trying to join the melee.
"You heard your Lord, clear a path for the Ranger!" Myron's voice carried forward from behind the flank, encouraging the soldiers in front of him. This combined effort had the desired effect: a gap in the enemy line, one that wouldn't last long. The Knight seemed to realize this too, as he barked at Kat. "Make haste, girl! Go!"
Not wasting a moment to make one might have been her last look at the others, Kat raced through the momentarily open position, placing her bow across her shoulders while stepping across the practical mound of orc corpses before leaping upwards to land upon the first footfall in the rocky hillock. The space on the ground was extremely limited, and Kat knew that she would almost certainly lose her balance if she remained there too long.
She kept moving, using her magic increase the distances of her jumps as she leapt from one foothold to the next with as much speed as she dared, feeling the mana drain away more and more from her being as she did so. Twice, it felt like the stone and soil was about to give out under her weight, and she'd been forced to grapple with her hands to something more solid, leaving sharp stones to cut and puncture her skin and leave her grip even more loose from the blood that was coating her palms and running down her arms. The orcs below were not ignorant of the fact that she was trying to bypass them. The further she went, the more eager they seemed to crowd around the rocky elevations and were trying to climb up after her, roaring insults and other vile things whenever they slid or went tumbling back down. A few were even throwing clubs and jagged axes up at Kat, adding even more obstacles in her path as she was forced to add dodging these ranged attacks to her growing list of problems. Every time she jumped drained more and more magic from her body, increasing her fatigue with every motion as she was being forced to delve deep into reserves of endurance that she didn't even know she had. There was almost nothing left now than her focus, a steel determination to succeed or die trying.
After leaping across what felt like an entire mountain range, Kat finally saw what she was looking for. It was a small deviation in the way the orcs were moving, a shift in direction both to the left and the right that wasn't present anywhere else in the cobbled together orc formation. It was little surprise that Joker and Reaper would fail to notice something without being educated or forewarned, but to her experienced eyes, it was like seeing a stone standing proudly in the middle of the river. Now she would have to make it just as obvious for anyone else watching, and hope that the Soldiers in Green were amongst them.
"Where is your warlord?!" Kat demanded at the top of her lungs, wrapping a large weed that was growing between stones to steady herself. This was the most dangerous moment, leaving herself openly vulnerable and enticing to both the common brigand and their boss. "Or is he too afraid to face a half breed?!"
Her pronouncement was met with a hail of rocks and other small missiles, forcing Kat to cover her face as she felt impacts and spikes of pain all across her body. Then something heavy and metal struck the side of her head, And everything around her suddenly went both dark and quiet. With stars exploding behind her eyes, Kat fought against her body's descent into unconsciousness that would almost certainly lead to either her death or far worse. She was inadvertently assisted in her internal struggle by the distant but still painful sensation of tumbling downwards. Kat latched onto it, letting both the aching and sharp stabs alike become the focus in her mind's eye as she pulled herself back from the darkness.
Her eyes suddenly snapped open to the light, finding herself staring up at the blue instead of a mob of ruthless orcs surrounding all around. It took another precious heartbeat for Kat to realize that her entire body felt weightless, surmising that she must have been in mid air either thanks to her fall or a motor reflex defensive move. Kat spun herself around to see what she was about to land on, heart catching in her throat as she saw that the orcs were just a handful of meters away now, their large hands outstretched to grasp her falling body with viscous smiles played across their faces as she effectively flew into their clutches.
With absolutely no time to spare, Kat reached out and grabbed the arm nearest to her just under the wrist, using it as an anchor to swing her weight around and kick the orc square in the jaw, feeling the marauder's bone give way as a satisfying crack reached the ears of all around. Surprised by sudden aggressiveness of what they had assumed to be helpless prey, the orcs tried to go for their weapons once more, bumping into each other as the greedy brigands who had been trying to compete for the "prize" now were caught flat footed. It bought Kat a much-needed moment to draw the short blade from her back and begin slashing at exposed throats. She got two quick strikes in before her feet hit the ground, then made a disarming cut at another opponent on her left that made the orc drop his blade from his half-severed arm.
But that was as much as her surprise attack managed to buy, as another orc threw his weight behind a shoulder check that caught Kat straight in the back, staggering her forwards into another marauder that opted to just strike the Ranger with the hilt of his weapon rather than spend the time on a full swing. She felt the attack rattle her teeth, as she dove and rolled towards the hillside where her initial flurry had bought the smallest amount of breathing room. She planted one of her feet against the elevated ground and twisted back to face the horde, holding her sword in a reverse grip defensive style.
Two more orcs with intimidatingly large weapons were already beginning their charge to finish her off now that she was left with almost no more room to maneuver. Kat braced herself for the new onslaught, when a flash of something quick and shining brought the would-be attackers to a sudden halt, their heads sliding off their bodies before the still upright corpses were shoved aside. A new orc stepped forward, one who seemed to cow all the others around him. He wasn't noticeably taller than the others, nor was his battle attire different aside from the properly forged and shining broadsword he held with only one hand. But there were tattoos visible on his torso, a gleam in his eyes that was chillingly different from that of his fellows.
"The half breed is mine." He said gruffly, his tone one that would broker no debate even amongst a group as unruly as this.
Even in her fog and pain that was threatening to dominate her mind, Kat knew instantly that this was the Orc Warlord, the one that had to be slain in order for the battle to be won. She threw herself at him, launching a quick flurry of attacks that she hoped would overwhelm his defenses. But this orc was smarter than the others she had faced, and quicker to. All attacks made towards the upper half of his body were deflected by his own weapon with surprising fluidity, while he simply sidestepped any blows she tried to make at his lower half or otherwise just let her hit him wherever the blade wouldn't sink too deep.
Feeling frustration mixed with desperation within her, Kat tried to make a sweeping kick to send the warlord toppling to the ground, but her foot might as well have made contact with a tree trunk for all the impact it had. The orc laughed mockingly, his free hand shooting out and grabbing Kat by her hair and lifted her up. Her mouth opened to cry out in pain but was never given the chance to materialize the sound or try to break free as the Warlord threw her over his shoulder like a discarded toy. She collided with yet another group of orcs, but these ones were laughing as well as they hauled Kat up by her cloak and shoved her back towards the Warlord that was already coming her way again.
Even under the best of circumstances, this Orc leader would be a difficult opponent for her to beat. But right now, she had already burned through most of her magic and nearly all of her endurance. Kat had surpassed what she had thought was her own limits in this battle, but at this point she was drained in body, mind, and even soul. She had just enough mana in her body for a final spell, but what could it even be spent on? Kat didn't have any kind of powerful offensive magic that could finish the fight in a single blow, and even escape seemed impossible with the Warlord in front of her and a wall of lesser orcs blocking any attempt to break for the river at her back. She had nowhere to go.
"Where was all that fire from a moment ago, elf?" The warlord taunted, his accent as thick as any other orc speaking the Imperial tongue, yet somehow far more coherent. "You seemed so sure of yourself when you issued your challenge. Hubris is the death of humans and elves alike."
Kat didn't waste her breath on a retort. If she was going to die here, then she was going to make sure that this arrogant bastard wouldn't get the satisfaction of
CRACK-BOOM
Right before Kat's eyes, half of the Warlord's head was violently torn away from its base, shattering into pieces as the sound like crashing lightning echoed all around. Everyone was frozen in place; Kat, the Orcs, even the Warlord himself. Then the latter gave a pained gurgle and collapsed to the ground as Kat's memory caught up with what had just happened.
Joker and Reaper.
So focused had she been on just staying alive after being almost knocked out that she had practically forgotten what the whole point of this suicide mission was supposed to be. But the Soldiers in Green had not forgotten her at all, and had struck down the vile Warband Leader without anyone even knowing they were watching. He was dead. They had won.
The joy that realization caused was remarkably short lived, as all the surrounding orcs began to cry out in anger and confusion. Emotions that were directed entirely towards Kat. Their leader was dead, and they weren't sure how, but they seemed happy enough to blame her for that. Yet no sooner had the horde begun to turn themselves towards her that more sounds of explosions filled the air, more orcs dropping to the ground like puppets with cut strings while black blood flowed from the almost imperceptible wounds. Kat followed the noises back to their source, seeing two figures covered in what seemed to be heavy bush and other vegetation looking over the entire processions. That had to be Joker and Reaper, they were holding the strange black staff weapons, including the longer one that Kat had seen strapped to Joker's metal carriage.
One of them was motioning urgently towards them, beckoning Kat to come their way while there was still a chance. Feeling another surge of energy born of hope breathing new life into her aching muscles, Kat ran forward at full speed, shedding both her sword and her quiver to make herself as light as possible. Several orcs tried to stop her by grabbing, slicing, or blocking her path. Had they not still been disorganized and confused by the sudden death of their leader, they almost certainly could have overwhelmed and stopped Kat, but they were still just off balanced enough that the Soldiers in Green were able to cut down any that got too close to her, even if it was a narrow thing.
Reaching the edge of the hillock, Kat dug deep inside herself to scrape the bottom of the barrel of her mana, all the remaining magic energy in her body exploding outward as she leapt upwards as high as she could to reach the edge. It wasn't going to be enough, Kat realized that there was still enough distance between where she could even have a prayer of grabbing something to haul herself up. She reached towards it by sheer reflex….as a hand with a steel grip latched onto her forearm. Joker was lying completely prone and protruding himself off of the hillock's peak to a dangerous extent, but he had managed to catch her.
He said something in his own language that sounded like triumph as he hauled Kat up and over the edge, Reaper continuing to attack the orcs below who were struggling in vain to climb up after them. He shouted something else that Kat didn't understand, and she saw Joker nod. The shorter man made a motion with his hand towards the woods further to the south. She got the message, and reluctantly agreed. The orcs down below may now have been able to make their way up, but there may have been scouts and scavengers up here that would be drawn in by the noise. It was time to go.
Without another word, the trio set off, keeping as rapid a pace as they could manage on foot with Kat having little left to give and the soldiers having to carry both their equipment and whatever it was they were wearing on their backs.
It was over two kilometers later of running, but they finally reached a spot they believed was safe enough to take a rest. All three were coated with sweat and breathing like they had been deprived of oxygen for well over a month, hands on their knees and words coming more like angry exhales than language. Kat didn't have the energy to use her usual spell to listen to what they were saying, instead opting to practically slap the center of Joker's back to draw in some of his energy to augment her own depleted stocks.
"You know…We probably could have just ditched the ghillie suits instead of dredging them all the way here with us." Reaper's words formed clarifying in her head.
"And give the Colonel ANOTHER reason to chew our asses out? Fuck. That." Joker gasped.
Despite herself, Kat found herself smiling. That had been a stupid stunt she had just pulled, one that by all accounts should have gotten her killed. This whole plan had been one born of the despair of lacking any other good options, but in the end it had worked. She was alive, thanks to these two strange visitors from another world.
"By the way." Joker looked back at her. "Nice job luring the big boss guy out, but I could have taken the shot way sooner if you hadn't tried to fight him. Didn't want to risk hitting you."
"Sorry." Kat wore a grateful expression. "Guess I just wanted my shot at him first."
…
Hexen would never have believed that the sound of the mercenaries' weapons could ever bring anyone a sense of relief, but that's exactly what he felt flood his body the instant it had carried over the sounds of battle. All of the orcs, and a number of the allied forces who had not been present at Joyce Hamlet, reacted visibly in surprise. Then it happened again and again, and again, all in rapid succession like the world's loudest drumbeat. The orcs seemed to pause in their onslaught, looking behind them at where all the noise was coming from, where they themselves had traveled not long ago.
Hexen was not taken in by it, however, using the moment to marshal his remaining troops back into a position while the orcs were distracted. As he anticipated, the noise stopped not long afterwards, and the orcs resumed their attack. But they were less zealous this time, less sure of themselves. It took a little time, but soon the news of what Hexen knew had happened seemed to reach this part of the horde, and that had a greater impact than even the young lord had dared hoped. Arguments began to break out between many of the larger orcs, then words turned to violence as the middle of their formation collapsed into a free for all brawl as the barbarians began killing each other to establish dominance. Hexen smiled darkly to himself in satisfaction. That was all the confirmation that he needed that the Warlord was dead, and without a strong-willed figurehead to unite and lead them, the strongest members of the horde would now start competing for control.
"The gods have blessed us once more." Hexen said, his voice trembling with both excitement and satisfaction. "Now we bring this to an end."
"Advance" Myron commanded. "Cut down every vile gray skin you see, leave none alive!"
The battered soldiers of House Duron let out a mighty chant for "Huzzah!" as they now counterattacked into the orc lines, with the Rangers forming on the left and right to deal with any stragglers. Caught up in their own infighting, the horde was caught completely unprepared by this threat in their newly formed flank. Panic set in amongst their ranks, as those who tried to fight were killed either by one of their own or were otherwise met with the cold steel of spear and blade by the allies.
Unable to make sense of anything anymore, the orc horde broke and fled in sheer panic, some still trying to fight one another as they did so, but all running to get away from the humans. The battle was over, and the Orcs had been defeated. The warband horde that had been terrorizing their lands had finally been broken.
Hexen raised his sword and bellowed out an unintelligible cry of victory, matched by the rest of the army a moment later at a volume so loud that it seemed to shake the very air itself. There were tears of happiness, slaps on the back, and hurrahs made in the name of the House Duron and its Lord who had fallen to one knee and was using his own sword like a cane to keep himself upright.
"Your plan succeeded, Hexen." Myron said, coming up beside him and placing his one arm on the younger man's shoulder. "I know your father would be proud beyond words."
"I'm just one man, Myron… this is all their victory, the ones who chose to stand beside me despite everything."
"Indeed it is, but you are the one who helped get them to this point. Your wisdom and guidance made this possible, brought us to this point where we could bask in the glow of success."
"I don't feel particularly wise right now." Hexen smiled wryly, forcing himself back up to his feet. "It felt like I was just making it all up as I went along."
"Did you think the great leaders of Duron past did it any differently?" Myron chuckled. "My Lord, I was opposed to making an alliance with the Forest Rangers. I was skeptical of your choice to put our hopes of victory in those two mercenaries. But you were resolute in your choices, and formed a battle strategy that made the maximum use of what you had amassed. This victory is yours, Lord Duron. Don't take that away from yourself."
He felt a swelling of pride within him from Myron's words, but he was too tired at the moment to form cohesive thoughts from the feeling. There would be time for that later, for now he still had responsibilities to those who had fallen.
Duchess Elyse's body had already been recovered by several members of her own House Guard, her eyes closed, and arms crossed over her chest. Hexen had heard some people describe how the dead could look like they were simply in a deep sleep, as if peacefully slumbering instead of having had their souls ripped away to the plane of Emroy. He tried to picture that same image in his head, but the wound on her body was too prominent, the blood too visible. Duke Raia was already standing over her as Hexen and Myron approached, his right arm set across his torso in a sign of respect.
"She always said her biggest regret was that she didn't die in battle." The duke said quietly. "That growing old was the worst thing that could happen to a warrior like her. Perhaps this was what Elyse wanted in a twisted way."
"All respect to the Duchess, but that is one wish of Her's that I would have preferred not come true." Hexen answered, looking over at his fellow nobleman.
Raia had surprisingly distinguished himself during the battle, showing both courage and leadership after Elyse had been killed. Hexen was forced to admit that his internal judgments of the man had been wrong, perhaps he was indeed someone who he could depend on in the future.
"What will be done with her body?"
"She will be taken back to her estate, where her family traditions for the dead are cremation and a small altar in their mausoleum. Her sons all died fighting at the Gate, but she has a surviving daughter who can look after things until her grandchildren are of age."
"Would you be willing to help them if trouble arises? Difficult days are ahead for those of us who carry on our responsibilities to the living."
"Of course, my lord." Raia bowed his head. "I will never forget the sacrifice the Duchess made upon this day. Her bloodline can always count on my support."
"Thank you." Hexen said, and meant it. The power politics of Imperial nobility was often cutthroat, but there were so few of them left in the Duron lands now that they had to work together well into the future if they wanted to have any hope of rebuilding.
He left the Duke and other soldiers as they tended to the fallen of House Duron, finding Camp Master Joakim doing much the same for his own people.
"How bad were your losses?" Hexen asked, watching the old hunter bind the wound on his leg with fresh bandages.
"Bad enough to where we will likely feel its effects for several generations." He remarked sadly. "But not as bad as they could have been. For that, I am thankful."
"This day has taken a heavy toll upon us all. And I promise you that I will not forget the role that the Forest Rangers played on this day, the blood they spilled and the blood they gave."
"Be careful with the promises you make, my lord." Joakim smiled sadly.
"Camp Master! Lord Duron!" Another Ranger who Hexen didn't recognize came racing up to them.
"What is it, Alvor?"
"It's the heroes of the hour." He nodded behind him. "They've arrived."
Hexen followed where he indicated, seeing a trio coming from the south to join the victorious army. They were all covered in filth, tired, and worse for wear in almost every way. But Kat, Joker, and Reaper all had smiles on their faces.
"Thank the gods you're all alive." Hexen said as he greeted them. "I worried a bit after I heard the sounds of your magic die away."
"Orcs not enough tough." Joker nodded to Kat. "Thank Kat, she obvious make target for us."
"I assumed after you left that was probably what you were up to, that or trying to fight the Warlord yourself."
"She try." Reaper chimed in. "Got close."
"You fought the Warlord?" Joakim raised a brow.
"Not by choice!" Kat said in a defensive matter that didn't suggest she was speaking the whole truth. "But they're being modest, I wouldn't have survived if they hadn't used their magic to come to my rescue."
"None of us would have survived if all three of you had not acted so boldly." Myron inclined his head to Kat. "Ranger Kat'lana, I have not treated you well since our very first encounter. But I am old enough to know when one acts in a selfless manner like you did today, I should reevaluate my views. I beg your forgiveness for my attitudes towards both you and your Rangers."
"I…. You're forgiven, Sir Myron." Kat looked as surprised as Hexen felt. He honestly didn't think anything would have been enough to sway the opinion of the old knight. But the battle seemed to have changed his views on a few things, and that meant he may not oppose Hexen on the plans he intended to roll out in the future. This day was getting better and better.
"I plan on holding a grand feast at the House Duron Estate to celebrate our victory here today." Hexen said, turning to the mercenaries. "Everyone who participated is invited to come. Soldiers, Rangers, and you two."
"Feast?" Joker sounded the word out slowly. "Gathering?"
"Yes. A party, a banquet." Hexen said, hoping at least one of the words would be understood. "I'll also be able to pay you there, as that's where our treasury is located."
Joker glanced at Reaper standing at his side, received a shrug in response, then looked back to Hexen and nodded.
"We be honored."
"Wonderful, the Estate is just a little over a day's ride from here. Kat has already been there once and can guide you. I assume that you would prefer to travel alone once again?"
"Prefer yes." Joker confirmed.
"I don't have any problems with that." Kat agreed.
The pair were strange for many reasons, but they obviously valued their privacy to the point where Hexen was just happy they had agreed to come to the Feast at all instead of just wanting to take the coin and be on their way. They seemed to trust Kat though, and perhaps the bond that was growing there could be useful later down the line. But that was a concern for another time.
"Then we will meet you at the Estates tomorrow. We will leave here as soon as we finish tending to the dead and wounded." Hexen gave a deeply respectful bow that was normally reserved for those few who were above his station. "Words cannot describe how grateful I am for all your help. You all have earned a place in the official histories for this."
"So long as I get to read what those histories say about me first." Kat joked, then nudged Joker in the ribs with her elbow. "Come on, I want to get some sleep before we move again. Feels like I haven't had a rest all month."
Joker snorted in amusement, then with a final nod to Hexen, he turned and followed Kat and Reaper as they departed.
"Strange mercenaries." Myron said wistfully. "They didn't bring up their payment one time in that whole conversation."
"Kat probably told them I'm an Imperial High Lord," Hexen pointed out. "They probably are just waiting for the right time once we're back in the treasury to know I intend to shower them with all they could want."
"Perhaps, but I think there is something more to them than even what we have seen so far. They may use exotic magic, but perhaps they too possess that innate curiosity that nearly all wizards do, and wanted to see the orcs up close for themselves. They didn't ask for payment because they felt satisfied with what they learned today."
"I imagine this experience left them more than satisfied about anything they could ever want to know about orcs." Hexen retorted dryly, turning himself to offer what aid he could to those who still needed it.
"This isn't the end of our troubles, you know." Myron said, falling into step beside him. "The horde will doubtlessly disband, but it will break apart into smaller groups of bandits and marauders. Most will return to the north or move west, but a few are likely to remain that will need to be mopped up."
"That is a problem for tomorrow, Myron. For today, I simply wish to bask in the knowledge that we'll even be here to see that tomorrow."
(A/N: What kind of absolute monster would leave his readers on a cliffhanger for the better part of 2 years?)
