“The difference between a good mercenary and a dead one is that one knows when and how to beat a retreat.” - Old mercenary saying.

“They’re pushing hard on the right flank, boss,” reported Ylisera as she peered at the distant battlefield. She had been part of Reinhardt’s smaller detachment which went for the siege engines and mages, and with her eyesight, also doubled as their eye on the battlefield. “Think it’s time to call it off?”

Reinhardt glanced at the siege engines, where the roaring flames having consumed five of the trebuchets, and the last one of the unburnt ones having just crashed to the ground as Yuri heaved and tore one of the logs that constituted its body apart. He also saw that Elfriede and her smaller group was returning, with a couple of headless bodies on the ground where his wife last fought.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Have the boys collect anything worth a bounty,” he commanded. Ylisera left and passed down his words, and the mercenaries quickly went to work as they collected heads and rank insignias of the enemy commanders and lieutenants and stored them. Each of those was worth a small bounty, which would still be something when accumulated.

For his own part, Reinhardt brought the enchanted whistle to his lips - a keepsake from his late aunt which the company had used for battlefield commands for a long while - and blew it. Three long shrill whistles were followed by two short ones, the noise carried a long distance by the enchantments, a signal for an orderly retreat while collecting any valuables on the way.

All of the mercenary commanders and squad leaders had been taught the simple signals, which were just a simple combination of a command to advance, hold, or retreat, coupled with their urgency. As it was, the bulk of the Company had savaged two squares of archers and was working on a third, but the first group of returning footsoldiers were already close by.

Too close for comfort, Reinhardt decided.

On hearing the signal, the mercenaries beat an orderly retreat, as some collected heads and rank insignias to be exchanged into bounties while others carried the few injured or fallen mercenaries. Shieldbearers held the rear, while the cavalry under Soledad kept watch form the flanks and struck when the enemy tried to chase them too closely, only to fade away again before they could be bogged down..

Reinhardt saw how an enemy commander - probably a noble, he guessed - on a horse forced his way near the front of the returning Bostvan footsoldiers, and raised his hand before he hurled a fireball at the escaping mercenaries.

Unfortunately for him, the mercenaries were schooled in anti-mage tactics, at least when it comes to regular battlefield mages. There was often little one could do against archmages other than hope for someone to put a knife into them so there were few tactics for fighting them.

Five of the shieldbearers nearest to where the mage hurled his fireball lined up and interlocked their shields, with the shield in the middle supported from behind by the sides of two other shields, which were in turn supported by the other two. They rushed forward and took the fireball directly on the center shield.

The blast was strong enough to hurl the five burly men back, as well as dent some of their shields, especially the center one which took the brunt of the explosion. The man behind the shield itself grimaced as he stood up while nursing his likely broken arm, but was healthy enough to withdraw with the rest of his comrades.

Before the mage could fire a second fireball, A small portal formed just above and behind him, and a large arrow shot out from the portal the next moment. The shot struck accurately into the gap between the back of the man’s neck and his armor’s collar, and sunk deep into his body.

The commotion caused by the first fireball’s blast had clearly made Salicia notice the mage, and she put him down before he got a second shot. The mercenaries had not tried to go for the body as it would be unwise to try for it with the rest of the enemy footsoldiers around, the bounty not worth the risk.

Fortunately for them, the Bostvan footsoldiers looked somewhat lost at the dead man, likely their commander, and that delayed their pursuit, allowing the Free Lances to break free and back into the forests once more.

All the while, their archers kept raining arrows at the Bostvan forces that tried to pursue them from the safety of the woods.

Once inside the woods, the mercenaries dispersed into smaller squads as they weaved and twisted their way around the traps they had dug previously. Similarly, their archers stored their bows and left their perch as soon as the last of their footsoldiers passed underneath and followed them in the withdrawal.

Several groups of Bostvan soldiers chased them into the forest, angered and humiliated by the disproportionate losses the small group had managed to inflict in the short time they fought. They found a multitude of traps that slowed their pursuit, however.

Pitfalls lined with sharpened stakes awaited the unwary and pierced through those that fell into them. More sharpened stakes were tied to a long, flexible rod of wood that was bent and kept tense, only to swing an impale when someone triggered the tripwire it was attached to.

Other tripwires resulted in large logs that swung down and crushed people against a large tree, or poisoned arrows shot from clever mechanisms. Most of the pursuing Bostvans were either discouraged or downright taken out by the traps, but a few squads persisted in their chase, unaware that most of their troops had given up the chase.

Shadows stalked the treetops and bushes and struck at these persistent ones, as the mercenary scouts did their work. Nicole’s, Fatimah’s, and Egil’s detachments worked together and ensured that none of those who pursued too persistently left the forest alive.