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Shadows in the Smoke - 28 - Escort Duty
🕑 Added 2025-10-28 21:47:55 +0000 UTCShadows in the Smoke - 28 - Escort Duty
“Base superstition permeated Itria until the foundation of the Republic and continues to grip its neigbours. For example, in the Empire they regularly swear by the Spirits. Imagined benevolent beings that influence the world in their own inscrutable ways. Any good Citizen knows that, to the extent they exist at all, they are merely manifestations of Weiryin with all of the horror that accompanies such creatures.”
The Struggle for Freedom by Bjarne Midthun
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Jakob watched the Imperial Mage as she slowly spooned her stew into her mouth. She was soft. Everything about her screamed pampered civilian, from her smooth hands to the wide-eyed way she stared at everything new. Even the way she ate told a tale. Any veteran knew to eat as fast as possible, because their meal might be ruined any minute.
He didn’t know what he was going to do with her. Commanding his maniple was easy. Well, not easy, but he’d been fighting for over a year. Ice and steam! He was an officer in the 13th! Dealing with an annoying dignitary from the Empire was rather harder than leading his men against the undead.
‘Treat her with every courtesy, she is a guest and important to the Republic.’ That order was easy enough to follow, even with a crown-licker, although he didn’t see why a girl no older than he was was so important.
‘Do what she wants, but make sure she doesn’t get a close look at any of the special weaponry, get into any danger or get the chance to commit sabotage.’ Clear as mud. Fulfill her every wish, but not all of them.
‘Introduce her to people, but don’t let her cause trouble with the soldiers.’ Ice and steam! Why were junior officer always left to deal with this kind of contradictory shit?
Mazar finally finished her bowl and put her spoon down. She seemed to be completely unaware of the looks the rest of the canteen was directing at her. That was probably for the best. She was always going to be unpopular, given who she was, but after she’d injured one of the fort’s guards last night, it was no surprise that dislike had exploded into outright angry resentment. Apparently it hadn’t been her fault, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d done it. No good Republican could be pleased with having a royal lapdog around. Some of the soldiers were muttering about the butchers of Grathbridge, although no one who looked at Mazar could seriously see her as one of them.
“Finished?” At Mazar’s nod, Jakob couldn’t quite restrain himself. “Not quite up to your usual fare, eh?”
She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. “I would not expect to eat as well on the frontlines of a war as at home. It was interesting and filling.”
“Huh.” He decided not to respond to that beyond a grunt. “What would you like to do, now that we’ve eaten? I’m afraid there isn’t much in the way of entertainment out here when we’re busy fighting the undead.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, fixing them on him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such dark eyes before, maybe it was normal for the Empire.
“I am no more here for entertainment than you are, Arcanist-Subaltern. I would like to go to the walls and see what I can of the undead camp. I am here to observe and learn about what the Republic faces, after all.”
Jakob thought for a second, that should be safe. The fort had its wards and the undead couldn’t approach in force without being bombarded with cannon fire and magic. A pampered nobleborn probably did see the Republic’s struggle as entertaining too. He gave himself a small shake. Whatever Mazar was, he needed to stop thinking like that or he’d end up saying something rude. She might be a troublesome chore, but he was an officer of the People’s Republic of Itria, not some uneducated lout. He didn’t have to be overly nice to her, but there was still a bare mimimum of politeness, even when dealing with crown-licker nobleborn.
“Of course, Mage Mazar. I’m sure you’ll find it useful. Let’s put our bowls in the pile for washing and I can take you directly to the walls.” Hopefully the undead were quiet today. Tomorrow she’d be another officer’s problem. Would they only assign Arcanists to her? He hoped not, that would mean a much shorter time before his time came again. “Actually, Mage Mazar, I will take you somewhere better. One of the posts on the hill will give you a better view than the walls below it.”
There, she could hardly complain at that and it would be further from potential trouble than the walls at the base of the hill.
It took a good 15 minutes for them to make their way up and through the corridors that snaked through the hill and to a small fortified, stone balcony built into the side of it a hundred or so feet above the walls. As they stepped out onto it, the two lookouts saluted Jakob with fists to their hearts before going straight back to their scrutiny of the empty, snow covered land surrounding the fort.
Mazar headed straight for the edge, peering out into the distance with a slightly worrying enthusiasm.
“Is that them?” She pointed at a brown smudge across the horizon. Jakob hadn’t actually seen the undead camp yet, but there was nothing else it could be.
“Indeed.”
“So they have built low wooden walls?”
He blinked, her eyesight must be excellent. “That is normal for a siege, they need to protect themselves against sneak attacks from us. They’ll also want better accommodation than tents.” He had no intention of admitting he couldn’t actually tell at that distance.
“Oh, but why do they care about comfort if they’re all dead?”
Jakob gave Mazar an incredulous glance. “Obviously they’re not all dead. If nothing else,” his mouth twisted, “you need living people to obtain undead.”
“So they’re just there as… fuel for the liches?” She sounded slightly sick at the idea.
“No, there are plenty that serve them willingly. Lesser witches or those that aspire to become liches in particular. Traitors to humanity, every last one of them.”
He spat off to the side and was rewarded with a vigorous nod of agreement from the Mazar, although of course she wouldn’t do anything as crude as spitting.
For a few moments they stood in silence, looking out towards the undead.
“Presumably they have chosen the location of their camp so that it is out of range of your magic? And your cannons?”
“Exactly.” It was hardly a secret that several kilometres was well beyond the range of a cannon.
“What about rituals?” She seemed to be musing out loud, but he could detect a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. “Could you use one of those to strike further?” She didn’t take her eyes off the undead camp as she spoke.
“Well, yes, but not to that far out.” Jakob sighed, he might as well explain to her. “We think of the area from the fort or their camp that can be struck by a single Arcanist or witch as the area of control. It’s not safe for anyone to be in that. Then we have no-man’s land. That’s the area between the two that could be hit by a group in a ritual, but not by individuals. It’s too dangerous to set up anything permanent in that area, but small forces can move in and out before a ritual can be put together.”
“Mmhmm,” she made a vague acknowledgment without taking her eyes off the plain. “So the area of control is uncertain, because it depends on the strength and skill of the Talented on each side?”
“Correct, although after a few exchanges, it’s fairly easy to guess.”
Jakob joined Mazar in staring out across the snowy ground. It was scarred in places, dipping into craters where magic or explosions had been unleashed on one side or the other, but it didn’t look all that bad. Not compared to some of the things he’d seen. He recoiled from the memories of Hanpula. The cold, dank, wet craters everywhere, the constant feeling of impending doom.
He gave himself a shake. After that battle, this was nothing. It was a bit worrying, knowing that they were surrounded, but the 13th could take anything the undead could throw at them and Sigrid would see them through. He hadn’t the slightest doubt about that. As far as he was concerned, she was unkillable and the rest of the 13th would be right behind her, wherever she went.
“Is that one of yours or one of theirs?” Mazar’s clipped tone broke his train of thought and it took him a second to work out what she was talking about.
“What? Where?” Jakob narrowed his eyes, squinting out through the bright morning sun. “I can’t see anything.”
“There!” She nearly grabbed him and then pointed.
“Ar-” he closed his mouth as he saw them. “Oh.” They were hard to make out against the snow, but once he’d found them they were clear enough. A cluster of small figures in white, making their slow way across the plain. “I don’t know. They could be ours or theirs. I can’t see well enough from this far away. I don’t think we have any patrols out, but I don’t know everything that’s going on.”
He squinted again and then mentally kicked himself. The soldiers had telescopes.
“You, Citizen!” The soldier saluted. “Take a closer look, are they ours or not?” He did his best to conceal his irritation that the two lookouts hadn’t spotted the patrol in the first place. He’d have words later, but there was no need to highlight their failures against an Imperial Mage who was probably making a note of every weakness she saw.
“Yes, Arcanist-Subaltern.” The man saluted again and then picked up post’s telescope and raised it to his eye. It took him a few moments to find the figures. “Approximately six people. I estimate two kilometres’ distance. Let me see…” He fiddled with the focus on the telescope. “Definitely undead. One of them might be alive, or might be a greater undead. I think the rest are wights.”
“Thank you, Citizen. There you go, Mage Mazar.”
“So you have some kind of necromancer and his undead walking around in plain sight. Are you not going to do something? Sound the alarm or try to hit them?”
Jakob sighed. Something he found himself doing far too much around Mazar. “They’re too far away. In no-man’s land. It would take a ritual with many of the Arcanists in the fort to hit them and by the time we’d put that together they’d be gone.”
“I see.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off them and there was a certain nervous tension running through her. She probably thought it was exciting seeing the enemy for the first time or something. “What about Lindholm, uh, Arcanist-Colonel Lindholm.”
“Oh she could, without a problem. However, I am not going to bother the Arcanist-Colonel over something minor that. She’ll want to announce her presence in a more dramatic way no doubt.”
“So you are just going to let them do whatever it is they are doing?” Jakob felt irritation flare in him at her unimpressed tone.
“Well, unless you have another powerful Arcanist you can pull out from under your skirts, I don’t have much choice. The lookouts will report their presence and then if they make a habit of passing by, maybe one of our patrols will ambush them.”
“Hmph.” Mazar suddenly bounced slightly and turned to face him. “We could go out and ambush them ourselves. They are in no man’s land are they not, so we would be safe? You are an Arcanist, I am sure that together we could overwhelm them. Maybe we could even take prisoners for interrogation.”
For a long moment Jakob stared at her in horror. “Absolutely not! I don’t think you understand how dangerous it is out there. Also, why would we take prisoners?! They’re dead!” This wasn’t going at all how he’d envisaged it. Did she have any idea how dangerous it was to face the undead?!
She scowled right back at him. “Well we could put together a ritual. Something simple, I do not think they are that-”
“Perhaps we should go inside.” Jakob cut her off before she got any more ideas into her head. He wasn’t going to try to improvise some ritual on the spot to indulge an Imperial Mage and anyway, it would hardly be keeping her out of trouble. “I can introduce you to some of the other officers and explain more about the war.”
Mazar ignored him, her attention already back on the distant figures.
“Mage Mazar?” Jakob resisted the urge to shake her. “Mage Mazar! We really should go inside. You can come out and have another look later.”
“It does not look like much more than a mile,” she muttered to herself, still ignoring him.
“Mage Mazar?” Was she going to try to attack the undead?
“Maybe with lightning… What if-”
“Mage Mazar!” That finally got her attention. “We should go inside.”
“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed in irritation and then, suddenly, she slumped as an unseen tension left her. “Very well then, Arcanist-Subaltern. As you wish.”
They descended back into the depths of the fort in awkward silence. She was definitely annoyed. Did she really think she could hit them from that far away? She was what? 19? 20? Of course she didn’t realise that she’d just have ended up embarrassing herself, she wasn’t a soldier.
Jakob glanced at the young Mage again. She had a far away look in her eyes and a frown creased her forehead. He had the feeling she was planning something. The thought of an Imperial Mage plotting was worrying, but at least she probably wouldn’t be able to cause too much trouble. Still, he’d have a word with the other officers.
Comments
TF Warden
What do you mean you can't hit them from here? I bet I could! Hmm let me think, should I use fire or should I use more fire?
Marcus Martin
I knew she was going to start thinking about sniping them from a mile away….
Max
Thanks for the chapter
