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608. The Building Storm
🕑 Added 2024-03-19 08:00:04 +0000 UTCReturning to camp in the first hours of night, the two mages found everything quiet. Likewise, the distant sound of cannon fire had long since ceased. The guards on the watchtower by the gate hailed them and opened up. When questioned, they had nothing to report; as far as the fifth and sixth cohort of the Tenth Legion could tell, all was calm.
Crossing the camp, Martel and Eleanor went to Avery's tent. They found it empty. Snores told them that the other mageknights occupied theirs.
"Worth waking them up?" Martel asked.
"I suppose not. We have nothing urgent to report. Whatever we heard, we cannot account for it. Let us wait until tomorrow when Sir Avery has also returned."
"Alright. Let's sleep while we can." They turned around and went to their own tent.
***
When morning came and they woke, they sought out Avery's tent once more. This time, the mageknight was back. She sat on her cot, eating porridge. Her face and posture spoke of weariness, but she looked up to see them standing outside. "Give me a moment," she told them, swiftly finishing her meal.
As she got up and joined them outside her tent, Martel noticed she wore full armour; it looked as if she had returned to camp so late, she had not slept at all.
"Will you fetch Sir Valerius? We can speak in Sir Dominic's tent," she suggested.
Martel nodded and went to stick his head inside Valerius' tent. "Meeting next door," he told the mageknight, still putting on his clothes.
Moments later, all five prefects stood inside the decurion's tent. "What is amiss this early?" asked Dominic, looking at the other mages.
"I found your men and rode with them to the western forest edge," Sir Avery related. "As we approached, we came under attack from a cannon. Muskets too, though harder to tell their number."
Martel exchanged a look with Eleanor; that explained the sounds they had heard last night.
"Did you fight?" Valerius asked.
"Against a cannon and an unknown number of enemies hiding in the forest? No, I ordered an immediate retreat. You lost two men, Sir Dominic, and a lot of horses, I am sorry to report."
The decurion exhaled. "A shame. I will deal with that later. We always knew the Khivans were wily with their ambushes."
"I fear this is just the beginning. The fact that they dragged a cannon all the way around our camp, through forested terrain, suggests something more is afoot," Avery continued.
"We did find many signs of movement up north," Eleanor added. "Hard to tell numbers or equipment, but patrols of Khivan sharpshooters are rarely so obvious."
"It does support something more is going on," Martel agreed, for once speaking up. He had begun to understand why Avery was so apprehensive about their position.
"Very well, I will not be accused of idleness. If the enemy is west, between us and the approaching legion, we may catch them between hammer and anvil," Dominic speculated. "I will take my centuriae to ride out. Sir Valerius, you will follow with your cohort. Sir Avery, yours will hold the camp meanwhile."
"Should we accompany you, sir?" Eleanor asked. Martel suspected she could have saved her breath.
"I doubt the Khivans ambling about in the woods can hold back seven hundred legionaries." The decurion gave an overbearing smile. "How about you and our good battlemage scout the area like yesterday? You have the experience for that."
"Sir."
"You all have your orders. Sir Valerius, prepare your cohort."
"Sir!"
***
With more than half the camp's inhabitants gone, including the otherwise pervasive smell of the horses on the pasture, the place seemed almost peaceful. It was certainly far quieter than normal. Martel felt rather eerie, though. There were no obvious signs of a threat, no enemies within sight at all. The Khivans did not dare to enter the open land that surrounded the camp, and nearly four thousand legionaries were marching towards them with another legion to follow.
Martel could not point out a specific reason to feel worried, which just left him with an intangible sense of something brewing, like a storm slowly building; no dark clouds on the horizon yet, but the pressure in the air could be felt.
Yet it would be days before the departed soldiers could reach the last point of engagement with the enemy and return, so if a storm was coming, they would not know for a while yet. Martel and Eleanor did as commanded, conducting their own scouting trips each day.
While everything seemed calm, and the Khivans were ostensibly busy to the west, the two mages did not let themselves be complacent; none of them had a good understanding of what the Khivans were actually up to, meaning they could make no assumptions.
Since they had no compelling reason to take particular risks, they did not leave the open land that surrounded the camp. They conducted a sweep of the nearest area, where they would be able to spot any enemies from afar. Predictably, they did not encounter anybody. Martel would almost have preferred if they did; out in the open, there was no chance they might run into trouble beyond their abilities to handle, and he knew what to do.
What the mageknights spoke of, campaigns and troop numbers in the thousands – he had no training or knowledge about strategy on such a scale, which left him ignorant on whether the situation was good, bad, or somewhere in between. All he could really do was trust Eleanor's judgement.
"You seem pensive. Something on your mind?" she asked.
"Nothing, really. Just wondering where the enemy is."
"We all are. It does not look like we will find them here. We may as well go back."
They turned around and headed back to camp after another eventless day of scouting; it ended up being four days in total before the sixth and the eleventh cohorts returned to their brethren with news.
~
Martel's character sheet (no change).
