As soon as Fadelio's convoy entered the woods, everyone inside could feel the enemy's presence. The eerie silence of winter had formed the impression and the messy shadow of the twigs above their heads only intensified it. They had only taken a few steps inside and already their scouts managed to find several snares and even some nasty spike traps hidden under the winter snow. Despite all of their care, the enemy trappers only had to succeed once to create trouble.

“Aaaah!” A loud shriek of pain broke through the hibernating forest. One of the warrior guards stationed around the convoy had been careless. When Fadelio rushed over, the damage was already done, and the trap was revealed. A rope had been tripped, which had released a row of tensed, sharpened sticks of bamboo at shin-height. The weapon was as primitive as it was nasty. A sharpened bamboo stick had almost run the warrior's leg clean through, despite his super-human powers. Blood flowed freely from the stick's opening, like a macabre drinking fountain.

Annoyed, Fadelio watched as the men fumbled with the wound. Just as he arrived, they even removed the bamboo, which only caused further lacerations and more pained shrieks from the victim.

“What the hell are you doing! Out of my way.” He roared and pushed the others out of the way. “Quiet down, I will take care of him. You, Naoka, get me our medical supplies.”

After the warriors had stopped panicking and made some room for him, Fadelio kneeled down and inspected the horrific incision left by the bamboo. Then he turned to the still howling warrior.

“Get a grip man! Don't disgrace your ancestors!” he shouted in the injured warrior's pale face. Reminded of his status, at least the man managed to reduce his cries to a whimper. Although Fadelio's master would never approve of this kind of treatment, nothing was more sacred to a warrior than his honor. He had no time to care about the warrior's feeling either, since the commoners behind them were scared enough as was. They didn't need another reminder of the pain they could face anytime on their march through the forest. Now that the problem of morale was solved for the moment, Fadelio began to take care of the wound. Not a moment too early, Naoka came back with the medical supplies.

“Go tell the others. We're taking a break until I've finished the treatment,” Fadelio said as he took the familiar tools.

Over the years, he had learned to deal with injuries just as well as Corco, which was to say: 'barely better than the average doctor'. Still, he somehow managed to slow the bleeding by applying pressure and sterilized the wound with some alcohol. Then he began the slow, bloody process of suturing the gaping wound. Though he somehow or other managed to save the man's leg - even though he might have some problems walking in the future - the entire operation took him over an hour.

He wasn't quite finished when the next problem was added to his pile of worries. From across their formation, he could hear another scream of pain, though at least it wasn't a desperate shriek this time.

“Ambush!” someone shouted in the distance. Fadelio's eyes darted back and forth between the indistinct movements in the distance and the half-sutured wound right before him. For now, the injury had stopped bleeding too badly, so it was no longer a high priority.

“Hold this and apply pressure, or you will lose too much blood.” Before the injured warrior had pressed the piece of clean cloth against his leg, Fadelio was already up and away to deal with the next problem.

“Tell me what in the hell is going on!” he shouted as he pushed through a small crowd to reach the source of all the noise.

“Young master, we have been attacked by archers.” His second-in-command was already on the scene. “There were three shooters. They wore white furs, so in the snow they managed to sneak close without our knowledge. They had already injured one of the guards in our periphery before we could spot them. Our men tried to pursue, but decided against it once the shooters retreated back into the forest.”

“Good. Don't follow them. If we blindly give chase, they'll only take us down one by one. That's exactly what they want.”

Fadelio ground his teeth as he looked at the injured warrior. Although his injury was a lot less severe than the punctured leg of the first one, treatment would add even more time to their stop. If this continued, they would never make it through the forest.

“Load the injured onto a wagon,” he decided in the end. “We're taking them with us and I'll take care of them on the go. We need to get moving if we don't want to be easy targets.”

Once his mind was set, the convoy began to make progress again. Even so, each step felt like they got stuck deeper and deeper in a mire. Over the following hours, they became victims of repeated attacks. Although they lost no lives, the number of injured kept increasing more and more, never giving the commander any time to rest between treatments. At this point, they were almost out of not only medical supplies, but also space on the wagons.

First, Fadelio had asked to dump some of their extraneous supplies to make room for his warriors. The craftsmen had brought a lot of expensive goods to start their new life in Saniya, and Lord Nasica had sent them off with even more useless luxuries so his warriors would travel in comfort. All that stuff had to go.

Unlike the warriors, who were used to hardship, the craftsmen had protested in loud voices. They had calmed down as soon as Fadelio had split a log with his axe and promised them compensation once they reached Saniya. They didn't look convinced by his offer, but could only obey in the face of Fadelio's superior military power.

Not long after all the wagons had been emptied of the useless supplies, they were forced to have the children and elderly get off and walk to make room for the ever-increasing ranks of injured. At this point, even some commoners had been wounded by hidden traps, though the ambushes still hadn't come close to their convoy. By the time night fell, they had only made it a third of the way through the forest, far less than they had anticipated.

When they set up camp, they erected giant fires and put up strict guard posts to protect their position. Even though they managed to prevent a night ambush by staying vigilant, they still weren't free from the enemy's harassment. Hidden in the darkness, the bandits marched around their camp and beat their drums all throughout the night.

While the warriors had gone through military drills and managed to get at least some sleep, most commoners didn't get a wink. By morning, they were already at the end of their rope. As Fadelio got up to get their trek ready for the day, he was approached by a familiar face.

Rimaq the paper making master was one of the first people he had recruited for the trek when he had first reached Arguna. Over the course of their journey, he had become something of a representative for the craftsmen in the convoy. As a result, they had become well-acquainted during their time in Rumas. However, when Fadelio saw him again after only a few days of travel, he almost didn't recognize him. With dark bags under his eyes, a haggard physique and slumped shoulders, the paper maker looked like he already had one leg in the grave.

“Master Rimaq, what do you need?” he asked as he forced a confident smile.

“Lord Fadelio... how are you this morning?” More than only tired, the paper maker also looked cramped. It was clear that he had some unpleasant issues to talk about.

“What's on your mind? We can speak freely.”

“Maybe this entire migration was not the best idea,” the paper maker mumbled and lowered his head.

“What do you mean?” Fadelio frowned.

“...I am sorry, I truly am. However, we cannot go on any longer,” Rimaq said with tears in his eyes.

“Cannot go on? What do you mean? We're almost there.”

“...the women and children are tired. To be frank, I am tired as well. We appreciate all Lord has done for us, but if we have to go on much further, I am afraid every one of us will just die here. Since the others have chosen me as their leader, that is not something I can let happen.”

“So? What do you expect me to do?” Fadelio's voice had gotten sterner, as had his face. He considered the commoners ungrateful for his effort, and for his master's considerations.

“Maybe, we could-”

“We can't turn around and go back. You should know that. All that awaits my warriors on the road back is a swift death.” Fadelio brusquely cut off the paper maker's plea. “So, since that's not possible, what do you expect us to do? Leave you behind and hope everything will end well for you? Once these bandits get their hands on you guys, they will kill every last one of you, just to set an example, or to gain the favor of their king.”

“However, at least there would be hope. Our current path will only get us killed as well. Please understand. We are no mighty warriors. We have our limits.”

When the paper maker tried to get on his knees and beg for their freedom, Fadelio's stern facade faded. With a sigh, he helped up the craftsman.

“Everyone has limits. Don't you hear the screams at night? Most of those are from my warriors, or Nasica's warriors. We're all in this together.”

“...you have done so much for us, and we are deeply grateful, but we can no longer hold out. Maybe if we could surrender now, there is still a chance-”

“Now?” Fadelio got annoyed again, and just as he had felt sorry for the commoners. Really, these people had no backbone. “After all we have done, all we have sacrificed? No, I won't allow it. Not ever. I can double the rewards I previously promised for when we make it to Saniya, so tell your people to hang on. Just one more day and we will make it through the forest! The rest will be easy!”

“I understand, lord. But-”

“No, you don't understand! King Pachacutec has started a war so some craftsmen won't join King Corco's lands. Those craftsmen, that's you guys. That means, officially, you are traitors to the central kingdom. Even if you surrender, do you think he would let you off after all of this? How many of his men died in the conflict so far? How much of your blood would be enough to pacify that king? You know about King Pacha's reputation, don't you?”

Rimaq's face managed to lose even more of its color. Of course he would be aware of Pacha's reputation. Ever since the ghosts had spread those rumors during the succession war, everyone was. Strong, ambitious, cruel, vain and heartless, those words were used to describe the king in rumors on the streets. It didn't help that he had allegedly killed his own father. Behind everyone's back, Tama had even spread some rumors about Pacha having an unethical relationship with his own mother.

Now that Rimaq was aware of his own predicament, Fadelio calmed down again. Although it was the easiest method, forcing these people into compliance wasn't the best method. They were an important puzzle piece for Saniya's future, so he would have to keep them at least content and refrain from kidnapping them. With a sigh, he put a hand on Rimaq's shoulder.

“I understand your worry, but in our situation, we can't do a lot to help your people out. Tell you what, we've still got some wine left for the warriors, and some leftovers of the good food. Tonight will be our last night in the forest, so let's use up our remaining supplies and have a celebration. We'll party away all of our worries, and then tomorrow, we'll get through the final stretch with renewed power.”

On Fadelio's order, the women of the craftsmen took the last good food they were left with - together with all the wine meant for him and the warriors - to prepare a feast. At the same time, the men collected enough firewood for a giant bonfire. As soon as noon turned to evening, the warriors began to enjoy themselves to song and drink. All throughout the night, the warriors would sing songs and use whatever they could find as musical instruments. At first, the commoners were still inhibited, but soon they were infected by the atmosphere and the wine and joined in. The merriment drove away the night and drowned out the noises from their attackers, while scouts all around their camp kept the bandits at bay.

The next morning, most commoners were either still asleep from the wine, or so hung over that they couldn't complain any more. Meanwhile, on Fadelio's order, the warriors had held back and were still fine. Now that all the remaining carts had been emptied of the last food and drink, the corpse-like commoners were loaded up and the warriors made their way through the forest once again.

Of course, none of this was accidental. This had been Fadelio's plan: Get the commoners to shut up for long enough to force a speedy march through the forest. At the same time, they dropped everything but their weapons and armor, so they could move much quicker. With their burdens stilled and no more reason to conserve energy, they managed to speed up once again.

Yet as soon as they continued their march, they were once again attacked by a constant trickle of arrows from within the dreary trees. As the day went on, more and more of their men suffered under the arrows and traps.

In return, Fadelio sent out smaller groups of ten warriors each to rush after the enemies and drive them away. Although they could get ambushed in the process, it was a risk Fadelio would have to take, and a calculated one. In the end, they were still professional warriors. Ten of them were more than enough to preserve their own lives even against superior numbers. After all, even with all the sneak attacks, their trip would have never been a problem had they not been burdened with the commoners. Now on their own, they would fare much better.

By noon, Fadelio had sent three groups of warriors to hold off and busy the enemy bandits. They had to get proactive, so he sent out more and more to shoo the attackers far away from their main group and ensure a faster march.

For a while, it appeared as if Fadelio's bold all-or-nothing plan was a success. They had managed to drive off the bandits for a while, and the commoners were pacified. But of course, Fadelio knew that his strategy was only buying them a bit of time. Now that they were out of food, the warriors would soon run on empty. At the same time, the commoners would also sober up again sooner or later, hungover, hungry and in a worse mood than ever. Worse yet, they were quickly running out of warriors to drive off the bandits.

When Fadelio broke through the dense shrubbery into an opening, he first thought that they had made it through the forest. However, once he got used to the naked sun on his face, he realized that they had only reached a clearing, and that there was more forest left to go.

Worse yet, the clearing smelled of danger. Right away he realized that the surroundings were too quiet. As they pushed the bandits farther and farther away from them, the sparse sounds of winter had slowly replaced the eerie quiet from before. Now they were gone again. Once more, he felt like he had two days ago, back when they had first entered the forest. With a frown, he realized that this clearing was at the bottom of a basin. With their reduced numbers, this would be the perfect place to surround them and wipe them out should the bandits decide to group up.

They still had around forty warriors with them, but if the bandits brought all of their men together, they would have to fight for their lives. As he considered turning and circling the clearing, the crunching sounds of snow mixed with the sounds of clattering and murmurs approached them from the front. His telescope reinforced his worst fears. In between the trees, he could see dark shadows move back and forth in a rhythmic motion. These shadows were moving in formation, and made no attempt to hide it. Were Pacha's bandits truly so bold? Didn't they care that no one would believe an army of warriors being wiped out by bandits? Had Pacha truly forsaken the last of his honor?

“Enemies from the front! Defensive positions!” he shouted. After they sent a flare in the air to inform their remaining men in the forest to return to the main formation, all remaining warriors formed a tight semi-circle around the carts overloaded with passed-out or headached commoners. The noise woke some of them, but they didn't even have time to complain. They were pressured by the serious, determined atmosphere of the warriors and soon sank back into the imagined safety of the carts.

Despite their disadvantageous position, Fadelio was glad they had forced a frontal engagement out of the bandits. After all, they were not only superior in terms of equipment, they also had the right personnel for a proper fight. This was what the warriors lived for after all. All the constant sneak attacks and traps had eaten away at their morale. They were much more at home in the thick of battle, and much better at it as well.

As he prepared a little speech to lift the spirits of his men, he could see the shaky, tired expressions lift from the faces of his warriors. The anticipation of a proper war returned, and with it the hope for honor and strength every good warrior would live for.

Fadelio was sure: Even if they didn't win, they would be able to sell their hides for a hefty price and make Pacha's hidden elite bleed. Yet when he finally saw the enemies, all tension fell off him.

“Ahoy there, mountain giant. Heard you need some help?” the casual voice cut through the tense atmosphere and drained the last of Fadelio's strength. Exhausted in body and spirit, he sat down right in the snow, and many of his men followed his example. Before them, an army made up of Medalan warriors and foreign mercenaries broke through the treeline. And in their front stood Dedrick, commander of the wolf mercenaries, with a wide grin on his face. Their reinforcements had arrived not one moment too soon. Now the handful of bandits were nothing more than a triviality. For the rest of their journey south, they weren't attacked even once.