22. What Starts It All

Nathanial grabbed onto the soaked leather bag and stepped into the wagon. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his weight. His metal boots scraping against the surface as he moved closer to inspect the contents. The white fabric above him hardly did any good in stopping the rain, with drops of water falling down onto his armor. But to make matters worse, most of the equipment, such as spears and swords, that was propped along the walls had fallen after his men had taken out the horses during their ambush.

“What a mess,” he muttered, barely squeezing into the cramped space.

He pushed open the lid of a nearby crate, revealing the crimson vials that were carefully stored inside. His eyes slightly widened in surprise. From the crimson hue and the volume of the vials, all of them were mid-tier potions at least. Maybe even high-tier potions if he tested the effects, and the reason it was such a surprise was that the value of this wagon alone had to be hundreds of gold coins.

This hit… was far bigger than Nathanial could have ever imagined, and if the other wagons were anything like this, then they had dealt a swift blow to the Empire’s logistics.

He quickly grabbed several healing potions and stuffed them into his bag with the soft cushion that was in the wooden container. Even if it wasn’t that much, each one he could get hold of would preserve the lives of his men. But with the discovery of the caravan’s value, Nathanial was certain that retaliation would come, especially because they couldn’t deal with the stragglers that escaped.

Soon, the sound of the floorboards creaking entered his ears once more. Nathanial glanced towards the exit, seeing Percy step on board with a handful of bright amber mana crystals.

“Is this the last one?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, it is. After I’m done here, we’ll be good to go.” Percy patted the crystals and polished the surface. “Everything has been set up at the wagons and the bodies. Once you give the signal for us to tuck tail and run, then I can add the trigger and we’ll be A-okay.”

“I see… well, that is good to know.”

Nathanial slowly nodded at the young man who worked quickly on his task. He stepped aside to give Percy all the room he needed to complete the work and soon decided it would be safer to just leave the wagon entirely, but not without grabbing a spare sword that was lying on the ground.

To some extent, it was a tad bit frightening to see the young man’s cheerful demeanor, considering the diabolical plan that Percy and Fredrick had devised for the Empire’s forces.

Nathanial felt the rain land on his iron helm and focused on the nearby soldiers that were treating their wounds with the potions. Their position was stabilizing, but there was no telling what the battle was like at the encampment and no way to tell if their forces were winning. The only clear fact now was that the Empire’s logistics were undefended. Their supply lines were vulnerable.

However, even with the healing potions, it didn’t cure their exhaustion, with fatigue gnawing away at their consciousness as the night grew longer.

Yet, as Nathanial was lost in his thoughts, a hand slapped his shoulder. He turned to the man standing by his side.

“Richard… I take it that the men are ready?” Nathanial asked.

“Well, they’re as ready as they’ll ever be, I suppose.” Richard shrugged. “It’s not every day you hear such an insane idea from someone like Fredrick, but given the circumstances, it’s not like we have much room to complain.”

“Is what we’re doing even humane? Can we even call ourselves… human after this?” Nathanial softly asked.

“I don’t know. I truly don’t. But we’re here to win a war, not to worry about the lives of those who invaded us.”

The words struck Nathanial’s heart as if the final nail had been driven into the coffin. Richard was right. And God knows what sort of hell awaited them for the sins they were about to commit. But with the lives of their loved ones resting on their shoulders, Nathanial knew he didn’t have a right to act like he was just.

His men trusted him, and he needed to increase their odds of survival as much as possible. For that was his conviction.

Nathanial’s hand tightened on the strap of the leather backpack as he flung it over his shoulder. All the men stared at him, ready to move at his command. His gaze drifted to Percy and Fredrick until the two returned a firm nod. Everything was in place, and now their march resumed.

Through the foliage and through the tree lines, the Everheart patrol, with their battered iron armor and soaked blue tabards, returned to the depths of the shadows that greeted them like a friend. There was no telling what the night had in store for Nathanial and his men, but as lightning flashed across the sky and thunder struck the lands beyond their reach, he knew that the upcoming battle would be anything but easy.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Birds flew off in the far distance. Nathanial led the way, pushing through the icy rain and the dense fog. Even though they had moved with haste, he couldn’t help but feel like they had stayed for far too long. There was no telling when the stragglers contacted other forces, but Nathanial could only pray that it would be far after they left.

A large group of men wearing light leather armor stood to the side of the road, focusing on the devastated caravan. The metallic tang of blood drifted in the air, and the man leading the Empire’s scouting party narrowed his eyes. The battle ended far too quickly, even if the men protecting the cargo ran.

The Empire’s scout leader, Lucas Theodore, a man known for his decisive leadership combed his dark hair back and focused on the fallen bodies. His golden eyes swept the battlefield, examining the blade marks and damaged terrain.

If watchmen had attacked this caravan, then not a single straggler would have made it out. The crude blade marks on the bodies of jagged lines and crooked lines told a story that the watchmen never portrayed.

“Do you think this is the work of watchmen, sir?” an Empire scout asked.

Lucas shook his head. “This isn’t their handiwork. Watchmen end their battles in one strike and rarely allow their foes to escape if their aim is the supplies. There’s far too much risk involved.”

“Then… who could it be? We’ve set up patrol squads along the outskirts, and if this isn’t the watchmen, then that means they’re still lurking deeper within the back lines of our forces.”