XIII

Adrian sighed as he leaned back against the tree he was currently using for a backrest, his eyes closing for the briefest of seconds before he forced them open. They had been doing this for almost five days straight, harassing the enemy to the best of their ability. Hitting squads of foragers and scouts with ambushes and chokepoints. The men had begun to call it the shadow war, seeing as they never left the protection of the shadows unless absolutely necessary, seeing as they were now a small force against a much larger force.

In fact, there was only around fifty men in the camp, seeing as Adrian had ordered the rest to escort the refugees back to safety. The remaining men were ones that Torin had deemed the best and the most likely to survive such a shadow war. Each man was double provisioned with both food and water as well as ammunition and guns. Pistols which were in fact not standard military issue had been distributed to every man, and at Adrian’s orders, each man carried a Helheim made gun as well as a Kurtz AxeMusket, and at the very least a dirk when there were not enough cavalry swords to go around.

The result was a group of fifty men who had either enough skill to survive this hit and run warfare or enough experience, armed to the teeth with more weaponry than any three men in a normal regiment. Also known as the wolves’ company according to the men. That was a bit of dark humor, seeing as the way they were acting was currently a lot like the savage wolves of the northlands, traveling in a pack, singling out the weakest easiest kills in the herd and striking, just to run away should anything too large come charging. A smile caused Adrian’s lips to curl up savagely.

Wolves indeed…

He looked at the small smokeless fire that sat in the center of the makeshift camp, several cast iron pots simply sat there, filled with water and thrust into the fire. Those pots were always there after they returned from an engagement, and contrary to Isi’s first thought they were not for tea. Adrian watched as Isi went about cleaning her rifle, she had started to take a liking to the weapon, and she had even started carving notches in the buttstock of the musket for every man she had killed with it, had she been doing that for every man she had killed in general then there wouldn't be a single unmarred piece of wood on the gun. As it was a good third of the gun’s butt was carved with tally marks. She dipped a rag into the water and began to wipe away the powder residue that had built up on the steel barrels carefully. She then grabbed a twig and used one small part of it to plug the touch hole, making sure there would be no way for the water to escape, it was harder to pour the water down the barrel while holding the musket upright however, she attempted to do it and simply poured the scalding water over her hand, causing her to curse in her own language.

He walked over and grabbed the gun, holding it upright with the butt of it to the ground as she had. She looked over and smiled at him, using two hands she poured the scalding liquid down the tube. She covered the top of the barrel with the cloth and picked up the heavy musket and began shaking it up and down, stopping after a minute or so before dumping it out.

The blackest water one could find anywhere poured out, smelling of sulfur. He helped her do this three more times, taking over the shaking of the musket for each leaning after the first, much to her chagrin, until she was satisfied with the clearness of the water.

She flipped it over to allow the water that was left over to drip out and placed it on a rock so the muzzle was not in the dirt. She then grabbed some ashes from the fire, making sure to only get it from the cooler side as to not burn her hands, placing them in her rag she spit in them and held the rag out to Adrian, who looked at her and then at the rag, but he spit in the pile of ashes all the same.

With a slight smile she used the ashes and spit as an abrasive cleaner to scour away any rust that had collected on the outside of the musket and to polish it to a fine sheen, Adrian would have preferred vinegar to mix with the ashes for his soldiers, but one could only work with what they had, so spit shining it was.

“Sir,” Adrian glanced over to see Sargent Torin come running up, his face set straight.

“Torin, I thought we agreed to use our first names with each other when not in diplomatic or command situations.”

“No sir, we agreed to no such thing you just told me we were going to and then started it,” Torin narrowed his eyes at Adrian. “Much like when I told you it was not wise to use a commanding officer as bait and you simply decided my council meant very little to you, you seem quite adept at not listening to me.” he snapped his arms across his chest and glared at him.

“And if I were to command it?” Adrian asked a smile pulling at his lips, fighting for dominance over the scowl he had forced onto his face.

“You can command it however so long as it is not against regulations you cannot enforce it,” Torin didn't look very happy at the moment, he looked like he had just swallowed something sour. “Besides sir, even if I did wish to follow that order it would not cover this moment as I am here because of this,” he reached into his jacket and pulled out a crisp looking white envelope that he handed over to Adrian. Once in his hands, Adrian flipped it over and looked at the seal that had been pressed into the paper. It was the mark of an eagle in flight, one Tallon clutching a Helheimflag that streamed behind it the other holding a bolt of lightning.

“Ah, I see my father sends his love,” Adrian said as he pulled out his belt knife and slid it under the wax seal.

“Father?” Torin asked, “that is the general’s sea-” he stopped talking as he leaned in closer and got a good look at Adrian. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed out as he realized that he was indeed looking at the general’s son. “Adrian?” he asked himself searching his memory before hitting the mark, his eyes widened and he looked at Adrian again this time closer.

“What is it Sargent, you look as though you have seen a ghost,” Adrian deadpanned and Isi just snorted out a laugh at that. Without looking up he pulled the piece of paper out of the envelope and began to read it. As he did a look of incredulity started to form on his face and in a flash he crumpled the paper up in one hand, his fist shaking. “I see,” he said softly, “I see...”

“No more troops sir?” Torin asked it was clear that he was currently fearing the worst. If they were indeed going to receive no more troops then the fact of the matter was this front was lost. meaning Kurtz would have an open avenue to press into Helheim, and based on military strength and size alone Helheim would not survive the engagement. The main reason they were not a part of the Kurtz empire thus far was due to the fact that there were so few ways into the country that an army could march.

Though if you were to ask Adrian this was one of those locations where it would be next to impossible to sustain a campaign from, there was no way you could get mass cavalry across this swamp, nor artillery or even small field cannon. It was only practical for a few regiments of men, an invasion force that would undoubtedly be crushed by the superiorly armed and positioned Helheim defenders even if they took this front away from Helheim. Which is what worried Adrian, the Kurtz commanders weren't stupid, they would also know this, which meant there was some sort of plan.

Add this to the fact that almost half of the whitecoats were army engineers and that they were building four massive circular wooden platforms that had to be at least an eighth of a mile in diameter each, with every one being exactly the same as the last, and he couldn't help but feel as though he was not going to like what they were planning.

And now he had to deal with this shit...

“Oh no, we are indeed getting more troops, plenty more, I would go so far as to say we are about to turn this swamp into a full-fledged battlefield, the issue is of a more personal matter.” he looked at the man standing in front of him and ground his teeth, so that was how his father was going to play it was he? Very well then, two could play at this game… “Sargent!” Torin snapped to attention.

“Yessir!” he said, thumping his hand against his chest in a salute.

“Send a rider to the refugees, recall our men, and inform the civilians that this area is going to be a warfront, if needs be press them into service as washerwomen and the likes, tailors, seamstresses, the whole nine yards, we will need a good deal of camp followers to smooth this process over, offer incentives, those that still refuse then let them continue but pull the men back, they are far enough out of the line of fire that they will have to make due without our protection.” he tossed the paper into the fire and watched with a sort of grim satisfaction as the red wax started to melt and the eagle that had once looked so proud drooped like it was tired and worn before losing its form altogether and running down a charred log like a rivulet of blood. “We will be getting a number of companies of men placed under our control, and I want this as smooth as possible,” he grimaced. “Around a thousand men are to be placed under me, and we are to be receiving another battalion of two thousand under the command of Lady Emilia,” he shook his head, “sorry, of Lieutenant colonel Emilia.” He had no doubt this was some sort of retribution, something his father had done to stir up the embers as it were. A small smile crept onto Adrian’s face, and why not? It was exactly what Adrian would have done in his father’s place, it would seem as though the apple does not fall very far from the tree. he looked over at Sargent Torin, “I want it to be understood that the men here are under my direct command, all of these men are to answer to me and only me, is that understood?”

“Yessir, permission to ask a question sir?”

“Granted,” Adrian nodded to him.

“Should we expect trouble from this new Lieutenant, sir?”

“Yes and no, Sargent, you are not to repeat this to anyone,” he glared at the man, “Anyone Sargent, am I clear?“

“Yessir, perfectly,” he answered.

“Good,” Adrian nodded “Then yes, you should expect trouble, Lady Emilia is a competent commander but we have a history together, and it might cause issues between conflicting orders, my men are to prioritize my order and none other,” Adrian sighed and leaned back against the tree. “She will want to impress my father, it is one of the constants about the woman, she will, therefore, attempt to make this a traditional war.”

“A traditional war sir? Here in the swamps where a man couldn't hold a formation to save his life? Against a force that even after reinforcements will still outnumber us two to one?”

“Yes, she was always the blunt instrument type,” Adrian said. “She will attempt to form us up into regimental companies and march us across the swamps, but as we know that will not work.”

“Yessir, the white coats have shown us that already sir.” Torin agreed, and Adrian nodded his head at that. It was indeed true, the whitecoats were still operating like the swamp was just another battleground like any other. The actuality was that this swamp, these marshlands was an enemy combatant of its own, fighting for a third party that wanted both Helheim and Kurtz men dead. The trick then was to make the Kurtz empire a more easy target then Helheim, allowing the swamp to swallow the weaker prey.

“Yes, indeed they have,” he nodded. “Sargent, call the men together, we are having a meeting, and send another patrol of scouts out to the west, I want to know why they have brought so many bloody engineers with them, and I want to know it before reinforcements arrive...”