Howling winds surrounded the caravan all around, signs of an oncoming storm. Though he was no native, Fadelio had been in Etra long enough to understand the signs of nature around these parts. His worried look went up, into the black sky. The lack of stars told him of the clouds which had spread themselves all over. Although he could not see them, they still pressed themselves on the atmosphere, and his mood with it. With the sky covered as well, they were were surrounded by deepest blackness on all sides, the dark driven out by nothing more than a handful of torches and lanterns stretched along their row of donkey carts. He remembered Corco's words during one of his lectures, speaking of distant cities, illuminated bright as day throughout the night. In his current position, he found the story hard to believe, but of course he knew better than to doubt his prescient master. Still, surrounded by invisible enemies, his unease grew with every step. The darkness had tried its hardest to sap his spirit and it appeared he was not alone in the notion.

“Why're we not taking a break then? The men and donkeys are tired, and there's a storm brewing. Wild beasts will come as well. We'll only take longer once the animals get injured in an attack.” Panting, Brokahrt shouted in Fadelio's ear, in an attempt to overpower the howling wind. Erratic swivels of his head scanned the surroundings and betrayed his worries.

“No time,” Fadelio answered. If he had been so inclined, he could have explained, in detail, how most animals would seek shelter before a storm instead of look for an attack, how his scenario was unreasonable. Just the same, he could have explained to Brokhart the gravity of their position and the importance of their task, but found that no fancy words would make a lick of difference. Over the passing months, Fadelio had learned that oftentimes, only few words were needed.

“No, there is! I know of a copse not far from here. There's a hunter's lodge large enough to fit all the men. We can find shelter there, and build an overhang for the animals, just before the rain hits us.”

“We need to get back to Etra,” stoic, the warrior stared ahead, into the western darkness.

“I get it boss, we'll need the extra food and those new-fangled guns for when the Bornish show up, but it's gonna be trouble either way. At this speed, we're not gonna reach Etra until sunrise, even if nothing bad happens. Plus, the powder's gonna be useless anyways if it ends up getting wet.”

True to himself, Fadelio just nodded his head in understanding. Brokahrt's words made some sense, but he wouldn't give the man an inch, not unless he had too. Unfortunately, by now his arguments sounded quite convincing to the men around, so it seemed as if he would be forced to pay attention or risk more discontent within their group.

“What good are those toys anyways? Even if we use them, those soft little balls won't get through a real knight's armor. One charge from a line of knights and our craftsmen will break apart like a bottle under a hammer. Since the things aren't gonna do much good either way, why force the men and beasts to death with a rush like this?”

Another man had spoken up, from his other side. This one Fadelio didn't know the name of, but he understood that the man was one of the people Brokahrt had brought into their little group with him. The entire operation had been put together in great haste. After Atau had come back from his last trip, Corco had asked Fadelio to get a group of men together, reach all the way to Ganea and buy all the finished matchlock rifles they had ordered from there a while back, plus additional food for their granary to prepare for an oncoming siege.

The warrior himself didn't think much of these so-called firearms. Over the past years, they had proven useful in routing levied troops, since the loud noise and invisible death would strike fear into the hearts of common soldiers, but a proper, trained army of warriors would always win out against them. Even if the bullets could pierce the outer layer of armor, they would rarely do lasting damage to the charging knights.

Still, he had learned to trust his master and so had accepted the command without question. Loyalty was a virtue his father had taught him to value above all others, but even more so, the crown prince had proven his talent and tenacity on more than one occasion over the past several years. Whatever path Corco thought was the most prudent to take, Fadelio would follow along.

Of course, the men present would know this as well, even the ones who had been buzzing around him ever since they had left Ganea with their haul in tow. They were paid for carrying, not for giving advice, and yet they had been insisting on course corrections, or on secret hideouts. Maybe it was time to take their advice, Fadelio thought as he suppressed a smile on his face.

“Halt!” With his torch lifted high above his head, Fadelio slowed down. The warrior's loud voice resounded all across their caravan and all the men reacted as ordered, until even the very last at the back had stood still. No matter how annoying some of them were, at least they showed due respect for the giant warrior who led them. “Everyone gather together!”

Under confused murmurs, the tired men collected themselves in a large clump, focused on their leader's next words. With them, the shine of the torches retracted and balled like a fist, collecting before the warrior. Once enough light had been collected to see every man's face, Fadelio's fist landed on the heavy cart behind him, the one which had transported all those precious, important guns. Right away, all chatter stopped. Many of the carriers here had worked with Fadelio before, and even the one's who hadn't knew of his reputation. After all, it was hard for a man of his appearance to not be the subject of a few rumors.

What they would know of him was that he valued order, discipline, honor and strength, and was himself a living embodiment of all these qualities. Of course, they also 'knew' that he was a wrathful simpleton, an impression Fadelio wasn't eager to change. Thus, chatting out of line would cause the kind of trouble every man here would want to avoid. The audience silenced, the warrior started his play.

“All of you guys should know, but some here look unsure, so I'll repeat our mission again. Whiteport lost the war, so the greedy Bornish are gonna come to Etra, just like they tried some ten years back. We gotta deal with that. For that we need the weapons we bought in Ganea. But that's no good if we don't make it back home in time. Now, Brokahrt here has said some good stuff. It's dangerous to keep going. It's night, it's gonna rain soon and he and his mates know a copse we can hide out in to get away from the Bornish scouts.”

With great care, Fadelio's eyes ran over all the faces before him, illuminated by the flickering light of countless little fires. He saw all kinds of emotions reflected in their faces. Spotting a pattern would be hard like this.

“Just as we left Ganea, we got ambushed, you remember that. In the middle of the night, the Bornish scouts came to attack, to take our weapons and supplies, the food for your families. To lure them away, we had to leave behind some good men. Only cause of them could we make a run for it. Since then, we've been on the move, and the hard march has been difficult on all of us.” Fadelio thought back to Ulf, one of the earliest workers for the Fastgrade company and the other loyal men who had been absent since yesterday's incident. The time since last night had been harsh on all of them, but never would Fadelio trade position with those brave souls.

“Now Borkahrt here says that the hut inside the copse is safe, that it's hidden. That's fine, but there's no proving it. In the end, we'll have to decide: Do we try our luck in the woods and risk the Bornish catching us or sieging the city before we get there, or do we keep going and risk wet and useless powder?”

For a while, silence dominated the clearing, until one of the men spoke up.

“Why ask us? Wouldn't you just decide this yourself, boss?”

“Last night, and all the way until today, all of you have shown your spirit, far beyond ordinary men. In my eyes, you are now warriors, true men I will respect. I cannot force warriors to heed my command blindly. That's why I'll leave the decision up to you. Borkahrt, get over there, to the side of the caravan.”

Fadelio pointed towards the cliff face a few feet away, just close enough for it to peek out of the darkness . With a sneer, Borkahrt followed the warrior's command for the last time. The warrior knew what the traitor was thinking. That he had won, that he had tricked him. However, through the flickering lights, he failed to notice Fadelio's own derisive grin.

“Any man who believes that Borkahrt's idea is right, that we should seek shelter in the woods, follows him over there. Any man who believes we should keep our current course to defend the city, at any price, stay here with me!”

“Alright guys, let's go!” A spirited Borkahrt clapped his hands together.

Once again, the murmur started up as the carriers began to move. Annoyed, Fadelio watched as the men began to group themselves. Soon, they had gotten into formation, and the numbers were alarming. Over half of the remaining men had decided to step away from the caravan, and towards the cliffs.

Worse than I thought.

Of course he had known that there had been some level of infiltration, and that he wasn't all too popular with the Reverers, but this was too much to bear. In the end, without the loyal Fastgrade men who had been missing since last night, his no longer was the loudest voice in their group. It spelled trouble for the oncoming siege, but at least for tonight he could salvage the situation.

“Is that everyone?” Fadelio shouted, his voice clear and steady over the winds. He wouldn't even consider counting heads. There was no need.

“Yeah,” Borkahrt shouted back, his voice almost swallowed by the wailing cliffs. “Looks like the men have decided. We'll need to move into the copse now before the storm breaks.”

“Last chance! Anyone wanna change their minds? Does the idea of hiding out while our friends and family back home are under attack not strike any here as cowardice?”

“We're just being careful. No need to risk the city for undue haste,” the traitor replied with a frown, clearly annoyed at Fadelio's insistence. “You wanna accept the decision of those warriors you respect so much, or are ya gonna play tyrant with us?”

With a smile, Fadelio nodded his head. By now, the last of his reservations had disappeared. “At arms!” Above the carts in Fadelio's back, the loud shout caused the blankets to raise up. From within appeared a good dozen men, all armed with their shiny, new matchlock guns, lutes lit and ready to fire.

“Wait, what is this!?” Borkahrt shouted in confusion.

“It seems like you don't hold the majority anymore,” returned the same calm voice as before.

“Who are those soldiers!? You've brought us out here to kill us!? I knew it, you're just a footlicker bastard who wants to kill all the pious Reverers of Etra!” the traitor's shoddy attempts to instigate the carriers fell on deaf ears. None of them would be brave enough to act. After all, they were no warriors.

“Borkahrt, back in Ganea, I had some men follow you. We saw you contact the Bornish spies, tell them about our plans. Tell them when we'd leave the city, where to set their ambush.”

In response to the revelation, the traitor's face turned as white as gnawed-off bone under the moonlight.

“Lies! I did no such things!” the shrill tone helped Borkahrt get heard over the weather, if nothing else.

“The men behind me are proof. You don't recognize them?”

“Hey, Borkahrt. So you turned traitor, huh? Not that I'm surprised. How much coin was Etra worth? How much did you sell us for?” a third voice entered the talks. It had come from Ulf, one of the armed men behind Fadelio.

“Ulf?” confused, Borkahrt looked over into the darkness behind Fadelio, towards the fireflies of lutes which could spell his doom at any moment. “We thought you were killed by the Bornish scouts! How did you survive!?”

“When the 'attack' happened, the scouts were long dead. They were exactly where you told them to be, and they never saw us coming. Boss made sure of that,” Ulf sneered. “We've been hidden ever since we 'ran' after the scouts. To lure out you, and your whole gang of traitors.”

“You!” With greater understanding, Borkahrt's eyes grew larger as well, as he pointed to Fadelio in accusation. “You tricked us! Like I said, it was all a ploy to kill us!”

“The great seer foresaw all that would happen here. We have been ready from the moment we left Etra.” Ulf answered instead of his boss, but Fadelio wouldn't bother to correct him. Of course Corco had foreseen none of this. As many talents as his master had, he couldn't see the future. Still, Fadelio would be foolish to admit that it had been his own deductions and plans which had led them all here. Being taken lightly had been be far too useful in the past and would be far more useful in the future as well.

“So that's it, you big lunk of meat, huh?” Despondent, Borkahrt's finger still judged Fadelio's own treachery. It was all he could do. A look around had revealed the full, devilish extent of their position. The cliffs had been hidden in the dark at first, but now that their torches had come closer, he saw that they trapped him and his men on three sides. The only path in front was blocked by armed foes. Thus, Borkahrt went for a last, desperate attempt. “You're just gonna gun us down here, unarmed men? Even if you're right, how do you know who's a traitor and who's not? Almost all the guys here were convinced by me only just now, they didn't know. I thought we were warriors? Don't warriors deserve a death better than this?”

“You're no warriors,” Fadelio replied with ice in his voice. “Even if you were, it wouldn't change a thing.”

Of course the cowards who had chosen their safety over the freedom of their city had no honor and wouldn't deserve to be called anything other than vermin. Even more, if they had been warriors, he would kill them all the same. Back in Etra, the crown prince would be up throughout the night to prepare for the defense of their city, their home. He wouldn't let any harm come to his master, to Medala's next great ruler. It was what he had sworn to his father before they had left the island and even more so, it was what he had decided for himself. Though he knew Corco wouldn't approve of this sort of... execution, call it barbaric, inhumane and honorless, not even his master's thoughts would sway the warrior. He would throw it away, honor, reputation and all, to defend the crown prince with his life. Thus, there was only one choice Fadelio could make.

“Fire.”

Oftentimes, only few words were needed.