Intentions
There were no more delays I could reasonably call. As I leaned forward observing the map on a hollowed out tree stump, I found myself wishing there was something else I could cite as a delay. Our first night we'd been brought to a near halt from a torrential blizzard, and on the third some of our horses had been spooked and ran into the woods. I had called an emergency camp that first night, and forbade any man or woman from advancing until we had found and brought the horses back on the third. Each time, I was glad. At the rate we were going, we'd arrive a day and a half after we should have. But now there were no excuses, our horses were ready to go, and the weather was clear save for a light sprinkle of snow. At best, I could order the march to continue in the early morning.
Our camp had been scouted out by Mercy, a small clearing in the forest that stretched for maybe half a mile before the forest took back over. It was a small thing, but more than enough for our soldiers to comfortably spread out, even with the assortment of rotted and half cut trees. My guess was that this was some sort of lumber operation that never took off, or otherwise had to be abandoned. Not that it mattered much, we only had so much time we could spend here, and the soldiers had already begun making preparations to pack our tarps and tents in the morning.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, when I turned to face them I realized they belonged to Belial. Unlike myself, he had been annoyed with every delay we had encountered, I was sure he was more eager than any of us to be on the move. I turned to face him, keeping my weapon planted firmly at my side.
"Something I can do for you, Belial?" I asked. He did not immediately respond, and instead continued marching towards me until less than ten feet remained between us. When he did stop, he took my lead and planted his poleaxe squarely beside him, keeping one hand locked on the massive weapon. Only then did he speak.
"Just checking to see when you wanted to begin our forward march. The men are restless, and eager for battle." He explained. That was certainly news to me, the men I had spoken with had been all too eager to remain and find our horses, morale had even seemed to improve during that time. Those ready for battle had either kept to themselves, or Belial was inflating their numbers. Regardless, his initial question was a legitimate one, and one I couldn't hide from forever. Suppose now was as good as any to reveal my intentions.
"We will remain here for the night, we've less than an hour's worth of daylight left, and I won't have us marching in these woods at night." I explained. Belial seemed less than thrilled with my explanation, even looking away from me and shaking his head. When he turned back to me, I could tell from his stance his frustration with me.
"Why do we delay? Our men have faced much worse than the dark, we should press on." He argued. I had a feeling he wouldn't be pleased, and was glad to have a few points against him.
"Herongale is protected by rangers, who excel in the dark. How many of us could they cut down unseen if we pressed on? Besides, our men are tired, they've been searching endlessly for the horses. A night of rest and hot breakfast will better prepare them for our march." I rebutted. Belial sighed and walked closer to me, using the staff of his weapon as though it were a walking stick as he moved. I adjusted myself slightly as he came beside me and turned to view the horizon over the tree line, only faint traces of gold peaking over it.
"Every moment we delay is another day for the insurrectionists to fortify. We should deal with them sooner rather than later." He said. I still wasn't sure how I felt calling the people of Herongale such terms. They weren't traitors, they were simply caught up with one. Still, I knew the finer points didn't matter to him, or to our master. After all, we were already marching on them. So, rather than argue the morality of our actions, I turned to view the horizon myself, my axe head coming level with my companion's.
"Are you so worried that we will fall? We are Blackstone, mightiest of Ashfeld's legions." I boasted. They were hollow words, I'd long since lost faith in our legion. But, a knight's oaths are not something to be taken lightly, and even less to just throw away. Besides, saying we were mightiest wasn't a lie, even if it had long since stopped giving me pride in saying so.
"Are we?" Was Belial's response. At first, I was unsure how to even respond to that, let alone interpret it. There was a light air of accusation in his tone, mixed with a low tone that reeked of skepticism. Was he skeptical of the Legion? Of our mission? No, certainly not that, he was far too zealous for that. The only thing he could be referring to was...
"You've been going soft, Holden. I can see it, the men can see it, even Master Apollyon has seen it." He hissed. Master Apollyon told him this? Why would she reveal her inner thoughts to someone like him? Belial was a gifted warrior, and a loyal one at that, but he was hardly among the most high ranking knights. Before I had a chance to respond, he turned to face me and continued.
"You spared the rat who eavesdropped on us. You failed to punish the elder's lapdog for his insults, and worst of all, you argued against the Master's wishes. You wanted to spare the traitors, and now you drag your feet as we move to exterminate them. Just which side are you on, my lord?" He chided. His use of 'my lord' was dripping with venom, though it had the opposite effect than I think he wanted. Instead of guilt, I felt a rise of indignation at his words.
Was he really accusing me of being disloyal? This fresh meat who had only been with the legion for a little over two years? Was he really so certain that he understood Blackstone better than I, Apollyon's second? For that matter, what made him think he could understand our men better than me? These were my soldiers, ones I had fought and bled with for years upon years by now. By what right did he speak for them?
I turned to face him, emphasizing my size with each movement of my weapon and frame. We were roughly the same height and build, but my armor was bulkier, giving an impression of size I was more than willing to use. To his credit, this didn't seem to sway him, and he even stood up straighter to try and match me. He was determined in his defiance, I would give him that. Despite my anger, I wanted to avoid this conflict if I could, and so decided to face the core of this insubordination.
"If you are accusing me of something, say it." I growled. A tense silence followed as the both of us tried to size up the other. The last thing we needed was a confrontation in the middle of such a grueling journey, something I suspect both of us knew. Perhaps that was why we had yet to come to blows. Regardless, Belial eventually did speak, though it came in the form of an inquiry.
"Do you still agree with the creed of Apollyon? Her vision? Wholly, and without compromise?"
"Yes." I answered quickly, too quickly, I realized. My answer seemed less like a convicted stance, and more like a rushed confirmation to avoid suspicion. It didn't help that it was only a half-truth, I had my doubts and questions. I did my best not to give away my dishonesty, standing just as stout as I had before. My voice had thankfully not betrayed me, enough to where it wasn't immediately obvious, at least. Belial, for his part, either didn't notice, or did not press upon it, for he was silent for a moment. Only a moment, however.
"Then with all due respect my lord, act like it. We are not here to take insults from insignificant hamlets." He asserted. Insignificant? By what right did he call a land filled with innocents insignificant? I might have struck him, had it not been for my years of discipline and training. Instead, I chuckled and adjusted my head to look down on him, at least as much as I could manage.
"And what are we here for, Tepes?" I demanded. I hoped that using his true name would stagger him, make him think before addressing me in such a tone again. I could see his grip tighten ever so slightly on his weapon, but otherwise noticed no overt reaction. It did take him a moment to recover, however, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again.
"We are here for the same reason Master Apollyon has told us many times. To remind them who this world truly belongs to, the wolves. Those who refuse to see it that way will be dealt with." He affirmed. Spoken like a true believer, I thought. I wondered now just how many among the Blackstone Legion shared his level of devotion, and if it were misplaced. Before I could respond to him, our discussion was cut short by the introduction of another voice, directly beside us.
"I hope I'm not interrupting." The voice said. Cold, not a hint of emotion, I knew immediately that it was Mercy. Both of us turned to acknowledge her, having long ago learned to not be alarmed by her sudden appearances. She stood tall, both her weapons drawn in a relaxed, but ready state. Were they already drawn, or had she readied them upon hearing us, I wondered? It hardly mattered, I was done with this conversation regardless, and this granted me the opportunity to end it properly.
"Not at all," I began backing away slightly from Belial. "In fact, Belial was just leaving." I said. I gave him a stern look to imply that this was not a request. He seemed to realize this, and nodded without a word, though I suspect he had more that he wished to say. Despite this, he stared at me only a moment longer as he turned to leave before looking to the path before him, cutting off a group of soldiers carrying supplies. Thankfully, they stopped just in time not to run into him. I sighed and shook my head, if men like him were Blackstone's future, I feared for the people they would supposedly protect. Trying to put that aside, I turned my attention back to Mercy, who watched Belial go.
"I assume you have a report from your scouting?" I asked. My companion slowly rotated back towards me, her stance giving away nothing.
"O'Carrick marches toward Herongale. He's probably already arrived by now." She said, somehow with flinching. I myself had to take several steps back at the shock of those words. How had Liam realized we were attacking Herongale? How had he reacted so fast? Was he more connected than we had realized? There was no other explanation as to how he could have known.
I was in such a state of shock that I hadn't even realized I'd dropped my weapon, let alone stumbled so far back that I'd nearly tripped. I needed to think, calm down. Shaking my head, I tried to clear my thoughts as I stepped forward and reached for my weapon. The cold steel was thankfully dulled by the thick steel and leathers of my gauntlet, but the cool chill in my chest did not leave me. Composing myself, I stood straight and looked back at Mercy, who unsurprisingly, had not reacted in the slightest.
"How many were with him?" I asked. I had no doubt that Liam had summoned someone to his banner, if not multiple people. If he were confident enough to march back there, it was the only explanation. At least, I thought so.
"None, for now. I suspect he is being followed, however. Before long he will have aid coming to his side." Mercy explained. That made sense, I suppose. Liam would want to ensure the safety of Herongale's people, at least if he was anything like the man I remembered. In that case, it would make sense that he would travel alone first, so he could move faster. I realized something as I had these thoughts, and an idea came to my mind.
If Liam truly was in Herongale, ready to defend it, he would want to avoid bloodshed. I knew that myself and many of my men were hesitant to kill the people of the hamlet, even if others were not. I also knew that our orders were to destroy the hamlet as a warning for any other villages or towns that would rebel or side against the Blackstone Legion. But Apollyon never said that the people of Herongale had to die.
If I could convince Liam into a trial by combat, or to escort the people out of the hamlet before the attack, this could all be resolved. Apollyon would get her message, the people could escape with their lives, and Liam could either die with his honor intact, or live to fight another day, all before his reinforcements had a chance to arrive. And if there were stragglers, well, Belial would get his slaughter.
"Who is the fastest and most well restored messenger we have available?" I asked.
"Mayberry is well rested. He's almost as fast as I am on his own, if he runs." Mercy said. I nodded and turned towards the camp, observing each of the men. Several marched and moved supplies, others waited by firesides in thick furs as they prepared stews in small travel pots. With any luck, I could ensure all of them came home.
"Tell him to prepare himself for a delivery, and that he must be ready at first light. A horse will be waiting for him." I ordered. Turning back to Mercy, I saw that she had sheathed her weapons, and seemed to be studying me closely.
"And what is the message to be delivered?"
"You let me worry about that, just make sure Mayberry is ready." It was best not to immediately reveal my thoughts, at least not until first light. There was no telling who might catch wind of my plans if I could not express them discreetly, even to someone like Mercy. For now, I needed to address a letter to Liam...
...And I knew exactly what it would say.