No Mercy
**Janus**
Our journey was surprisingly uneventful but tense. No surprise attacks, ambushes, Mercenaries, not even a single petty Bandit. It was almost a bit too quiet, most likely because the BAndits in the region had all been hired to kill the priest. However, there was one thing bothering me. The amount and variety of the Monsters we came across. It wasn’t just the regular horned Rabbit, Centigore, and blood Hawk we stumbled upon. We also met Giant snakes that measured 10 Meters in length, with a maw so wide they could gulp down a person with just one bite. Gila Monsters equipped with deadly venom, and the famous Surinam Toad, the namesake for the Surinam Region they call home. The Surinam Region in which Aldmoor is located.
Normally, these monsters never moved this far away from the wetlands surrounding Aldmoor. It felt like they were running away from something. And I feel like our Mission will involve whatever they are running from.
The purpose of our Mission wasn’t just to save the priest but also to capture any spies and guarantee safe travel again. I hope that if we just deal with whatever they are afraid of, they will return. If not, we will have to start an extermination mission right after.
This was necessary because the priest was hardly the only one who refused to advance in the presence of the bandit threat. Many Merchants have been either robbed or trapped in the city. Usually, the Bandits wouldn’t kill the Merchant and would focus on the Valuables and the Woman. They would leave the Merchant alive to rob him again one day. But this time it was different. Not a single person has reached us since we received the letter requesting aid. If not for the letter, we would have only noticed that something was amiss after people stopped coming.
Sadly, there weren’t many merchants willing to take the risk. They would wait until the Danger had subsided. But that would be too late for us. The fields behind the Fortress and our stockpile were enough to carry us through the winter, but we desperately needed new gear and tools.
The Crater in the East is the Only Border our Country has, besides the Northern Plains, due to the Eastern Mountain ranges and the western and southern Seas. We were a frontier Noble House surrounded only by Nobles who concentrated on Farming and Culture. They had little regard for fighting and would, at most, have enough Forces to deal with the occasional Bandit.
Fortress Rose Dorn in its long History has never been breached before. Even during the Cataclysm, before the Fortress had even been constructed, the Invading Ibasan and beastman forces were stopped right at the border by my ancestors. No one believed the Fortress would ever fall. However, due to this trust, the surrounding Houses and even our allies grew complacent.
They would never be able to handle this Concentrated force. According to the letter, their numbers measured around 400 to 500. They were mainly bandits, former impoverished farmers, or dim wits, led by criminals, deserters, and the occasional Mercenary.
But numbers matter.
Our group would have trouble fighting off that many Attackers, especially on the open field. And if they ambushed us, we would face casualties. But my father couldn’t send any more men with us. It would leave the Fortress too open for an attack. The Fort was already understaffed. We would need about 2,000 to defend Rose Dorn effectively, but we only had a total of 980 men. Fifty-two men for this Mission and the initial thirty for the original escort mission were all we could bear.
Joe and I instructed our men to scout ahead and mask our approach to prevent an ambush. We had made our Cohort’s Movements Public while passing through Roots to rat out any spies. But after we passed the town, we stealthily moved on foot and left our horses behind at a safe house. The Message we got said that Aldmoor needed help, but that they would be able to hold out for now. And so, stealth became the primary focus of our Mission.
Our group was moving through the forest, just a day away from our destination. We travelled for two weeks. We didn’t see a single bandit or Merchant. Only a few small Villages and farmers tending to their fields.
I was at the front with Collin. The men followed a neat trail behind us, careful not to make a sound. Joe was protecting our rear, which was the most crucial position to hold. He had every soldier in his field of view. With his remarkable eyesight, Joe wouldn’t miss any of them having trouble. I’m primarily at the front with Collin to protect him, our main scout. He was there to sense threats, such as wild animals, monsters, and, of course, bandits.
Animals weren’t a real threat. Bears and wolves have been extinct in our country for a long time, but spooking a herd or a flock of birds could reveal our location. Monsters, on the other hand, had to be dealt with utmost stealth. Which usually resulted in them earning themselves an arrow from Joel right between their eyes.
Our journey had been smooth so far until dusk arrived.
Collin raised his left fist above his head, and everyone stopped moving. He raised two fingers of his right hand and pointed South Downhill.
The Enemy is 200 meters South, Downhill.
Then Collin raised four fingers on his right hand twice.
Their Numbers were 80.
I exhaled only as Collin let his hands fall down, and we began to gather for a discussion.
Joe and I were looking at the distant Farmhouse surrounded by a group of makeshift tents with a pile of corpses stacked in one of the fields.
“Should we leave them alone and prioritize the priest, or take them out while we can?” I asked Joe while already planning every route of our assault.
“If one of them gets away or someone sees us.” Joel looked at the distant Farmhouse laughter booming through the open windows,” We could run into an ambush in the Future.”
Honestly, I agree. The corpses in the field looked like they had been dead for a week. And we would definitely face casualties in a future ambush if they got a good estimate of our size and target. The risk outweighs the gains of killing a band of Bandits.
“It was cruel towards the deceased, but we have to prioritize our mission.”
At least this was what I thought until we heard a woman scream,
“No, not her! Not my daughter!”. Followed by even more laughter.
I made an involuntary step forward, but Joe stopped me.
“Have you forgotten what you just said?” I knew he was right, our Mission was more important than their lives, but… somehow in my head the Woman’s voice sounded like Ruby’s.
The two of us continued our standoff for a moment until the Farmhouse Door opened. A scrawny, withered old man with a messy black beard formed around his yellow, hole-ridden smile emerged, dragging a little girl, not even five years old, by her hair through the mud towards his tent. The little girl kicked and screamed in pain. The Mother called after her repeatedly, begging for mercy, but no one moved to help. By now, all the men in the escort party were looking towards the spectacle, ready to spring into action.
Joe sighed, let go of my arm, and instead began to draw his bow, commanding,
“Don’t let any of them escape.”