Micky was… pissed. It seemed to be his normal state as the commander of hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Looking back, he couldn’t really think of a time when he enjoyed it. That still didn’t prevent him from being livid with the leaders of the army though. They were simply trudging forward now, even Amelia was caught up in the legate’s pace. But they were severely lacking supplies. This meant that there was now a clear route between them and Micky’s own supply route. Then each would commend him as if they had ordered it themselves. Micky wasn’t alone in this either. As each of the smarter senior centurions or solo junior centurions that thought to secure the heart of the army, their stomach, were receiving orders from their ‘superiors’ to keep up the good job.

Worse, they were allowing a worrying amount of enemy combatants through. It had been bad when it was the legate on the defensive, but now? Now he was securing his supply lines from being attacked by soldiers to resupply on their way to raid towns south and west from the skirmish borders. So far none of the larger towns had been raided, but some of the small towns and most small villages on the forest boundary have completely collapsed. Micky was almost certain that enemy soldiers had made it in amongst the refugees. He had of course said as much to the count. And the count had thrown it up the chain of command. However, it didn’t seem they were too awfully worried about a massive influx of enemy combatants. They were now attempting to ascertain the origins of the refugees though.

This was performed with, oddly enough paperwork. While there were powerful skills that could see more of the system’s information than even the person themselves, they were rare. And to make matters worse, the skills to hide from such skills were rare, but much more common. This left paperwork as the most reliable source to counter crimes of this nature.

Unfortunately it seems that the more common crime was that the nobles in charge of the citizenry were skimping on the paperwork instead, leaving several [Citizen]s without their paperwork, in spite of having the papers. Or being forced into surfdom or slavery since they haven’t paid their taxs, despite having the paperwork that states they have paid their taxes… to the lord of their estate. Or course, the lords and ladies can’t be bothered with paying the back taxes owed either…

Luckily for him, Maymay was good at her job when finding these cretens that slinked through the forest. She was spending most of her days in forest combat with her division, and reveling in the feeling like a forest queen… to be honest it scared Micky a little bit.

So Micky was currently experimenting with his alchemy to relax. His master told him to try to improve with his enchanting a little bit, since he was ‘talented’ simply by virtue of having magic already. But Micky hated enchanting, so he might as well simply practice with his pells the hard way. No, he was practicing Alchemy since he needed to calm. It was not the first time nor would it be his last. He had a [Beginners Junior Alchemy Set] a purple rank item for children to practice alchemy with. It was common enough and with such a basic alchemy set it was easy to travel around with.

He was currently practicing with a somewhat volatile plant he had recently found. He couldn’t quite identify it but it had a high fire content and would thus be very volatile if “Micky!” Screamed Kux. The ingredients in his hands exploded, breaking several of the beakers and things, sending shratnal everywhere. He was glad he wasn’t going to be the one to remove the glass from his sheets. On second thought, he would simply get new sheets and be done with it.

Micky whirled around on Kux almost faster than the explosion. The glow of his new spell acting up shielding his hands.

Defense: Defend something with mana.

Simple, aptly names, and one of his most versatile spells yet. Unfortunately he could only defend one thing and that had been him. Oh well, the purple alchemy set was cheap and common, he had an orange set he was holding off on using that was slightly more rare.

“What, in the ever gods names possesed you to do that while I was performing alchemy?!” yelled Micky.

“We’re under attack, trolls, trolls in the forest! Though you should know.” She said.

Micky breathed in and out. “Yeah, I suppose that is good to know. But next time I’m in the middle of alchemy, please try to be slightly quieter.” Micky sighed out.

Troll attacks weren’t new, but sitting within a tent that is rock throwing distance would probably not be smart. Especially if Micky didn’t fend them off from coming closer. It was an annoying opponent in a siege when the opponent itself was the siege engine throwing rocks at you.

“Are they joined by enemy combatants this time?” Asked Micky. This was a common tactic, herd the native wildlife or sentients towards the encampments then loot during the battle. It was also annoyingly effective and one of the reasons Micky was employing more and more locals. This also caused feuds between locals because they had long standing blood feuds between each other. This is why he stopped recruiting anyone with a long standing blood feud, though he wouldn’t turn away individuals.

Trolls being trolls and loving their stupid jokes that nobody else really gets, pretty much means they have a long standing blood feud with, well everybody. In particular the Murlocs seemed to be a terrible choice since they were also a major food supply for the trolls. A shame because he liked the Matriarch and wasn’t about to give her up for anybody. So the trolls would have to die. What this meant though was that the enemy had a valuable ally that was basically a walking siege weapon amongst the locals.

Micky was not amused, so Micky would try out his newest creation upon them. Besides, trolls loathed fire, so Micky would shower them with his loathing affections in return.

Picking up the newest potion, and that’s what it was a potion that would help those that were capable of accepting fire attuned affinity. He was prepared for the coming battle. It seemed that no, there weren’t any enemy combatants sighted, and that the trolls had simply gotten the idea into their own head since it had gone oh so well the last time, however, Micky didn’t hold out hope. It was almost like the enemy were bloodhounds that were attuned to the smell of battle and would likely be here before the battle was even truly underway. Simply to spite Micky.

Micky picked up his staff. He could feel a warmth coming from it in acknowledgment of its master. He now knew that yes there was indeed a spirit dwelling within. Of course, it wasn’t even a nascent spirit yet. Simply the beginnings of the beginnings. But it was warm and it was his. He caressed the staff as a father would a child, warmly and dotingly.

Leaving his tent to find a stone thrown just outside he decided it was a good thing he did too. At least they were finding stones for him as they were remarkably hard to find in the bogs the Murlocs preferred.

Micky walked towards the lead walls of his encampment. The enemies forebearers were already at the walls, and were probably dealt with. However, these were simply the young anxious juveniles that wished to prove themselves. The true threat were the trolls in the back that were egging the juveniles on… to their deaths. Micky would never get Net Trolls. They were so stupid, and evolution and mother nature should have long ago killed them and their entire species off. But somehow they simply appeared everywhere and most assuredly the place you least wanted them.

Micky looked out from the watchtower that he had climbed. Indeed, the net that had given these particular trolls their name was ever present, and ever expanding. He hopped that he could expel these villains, and then cleans the net to its purest form so that it could return to being useful. Perhaps in education or catching catfish, who knows?