Elizabeth decided to cross the bridge. As she explained it, she was far more worried about being caught on the wrong side of the river than the possibility of encountering enemies.

Frances led the company of soldiers guarding the bridge itself, whilst Martin brought up the rest of their troops.

“Ma’am—Frances, we should strip the bodies of supplies or anything useful,” said Ginger.

Frances winced, but nodded. “I agree. Take ten and see what you can get. We’ll keep watch.”

Ginger gave Frances a look that the girl couldn’t quite read, but proceeded, grabbing ten of the older convicts.

There wasn’t much to recover. Goblin gear wasn’t sized for most humans, but they took the goblin’s ammo pouches and any food they’d carried with them. However, most of the goblins were dead thanks to her spells, which… didn’t leave the bodies in the best condition.

Frances didn’t want to look at them, but she forced herself to take in their corpses. In her heart, she hoped that they’d find their rest somewhere peaceful.

Despite the wait, they weren’t attacked before the rest of the soldiers arrived with Martin. Even after they made their crossing and their supply wagons had trundled over the bridge, there was no counterattack.

It was a stroke of luck that urged the group on and soon they were clear away from the bridge, taking one of the smaller paths that snaked through the Pinewood. It wasn’t entirely smooth going, though, and the wagons got stuck several times.

“How did the army get through this foresty crap?” Ginger muttered. She and Ayax were at the head of the column, doing their best to navigate through the forest, and clear a way through if necessary. Ayax’s magic was thus rather helpful in this endeavour.

“We took barges that ran down the Silverstream under the bridge we crossed. There are roads, but as you can see, they’re not very good,” explained Ayax. She smirked, “You should be glad that we’re in the Pinewoods. The foresters keep the undergrowth fairly tamed.”

“At least we’re stopping soon,” said Ginger, looking up at the sky. It was beginning to set.

Crack.

“We’re under attack!”

Ayax and Ginger spun around and charged toward the back of the column, where they heard the shots from. They passed scrambling men and women reaching for weapons, until Elizabeth suddenly stepped in front of them.

“Ginger, come with me. Ayax, stay in the front! I need you leading the column with the first company! Keep us moving!” Elizabeth bellowed.

Ayax grimaced, but nodded and turned. “Come on! Keep moving forward, get those wagons going!”

Elizabeth and Ginger continued to run down the line, until they’d reached the fight.

Frances and about thirty of their musketeers were firing at approaching enemy musketeers, using the trees as cover. About twenty foot soldiers were taking cover behind trees, but were ready, spears and swords in hand.

As for their enemy, they were ogres. Tall, broad-shouldered, human-like, but not at the same time. They were very similar to their cousins, the trolls. Both had black eyes, but unlike trolls, they didn’t have tails or pointed ears and every single one of them without exception had a mane of hair that flowed down their backs. If one got closer, one would notice they had six fingers.

At least, both sides were trying to shoot each other. The interspersed trees provided plenty of cover. Combine that with the dim light and the terrible accuracy of the muskets meant that only Frances was hitting anything.

What the ogres musket fire was doing was keeping their heads down so that their compatriots, a group of ogre soldiers, could advance, in a loose skirmishing formation. In the dim light, Elizabeth wasn’t sure how many were there, but there were a lot.

“What are your orders? We could withdraw or counterattack. They might have reinforcements, though,” Ginger pointed out.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and was about to nod, until she suddenly didn’t. “Ginger, I have an idea. I’ll be back in a minute. Frances, keep them pinned and knock down a few trees if you have to!”

Frances ducked behind a tree and shouted, “Alright!” With that she began to charge her lightning spell. Ginger however, grabbed Elizabeth’s arm.

“You’re just going to leave us?” Ginger yelled. The convict’s eyes were wild with fury, before they suddenly froze and she released Elizabeth, a horrified look on her face.

Elizabeth, taking a breath, smiled disarmingly and said, “Ginger, I’m sorry for worrying you, but I’m leaving to get our new cavalry force. Their horses should be rested enough for one charge. I need you to get our soldiers here ready to join us. Can you do that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ginger stammered.

“Good. I’ll see you.” Elizabeth got to her feet and dashed after their convoy.

Ginger stared at her back, before picking herself up and running to join the foot soldiers. “Right, so Elizabeth said she’s bringing reinforcements. We need to be ready to charge.”

“You sure she’s not just running?” whispered one of the convicts.

Ginger hesitated and jumped, well, everybody jumped as a crack of thunder split the air.

Frances’s spell had sent the ogres running for more cover, leaving another ten or so twitching or motionless on the ground. It also made Ginger realize something.

“The commander is not going to leave her best friend here. Just get ready,” Ginger ordered, drawing her sword. The cheap, blunt-pointed hacking blade was more of a stretched butcher’s chopper with a hilt than a sword. It was still a good weapon, though.

The musket fire coming their way had slackened to a couple of odd shots. The ogres were too busy ducking for cover from the brown-haired girl hurling lightning bolts at them.

That cover was promptly destroyed, when one of these bolts of lightning struck a tree with a crack. The tree swayed, resisted for a moment, and came crashing down, sending ogres running.

“Troops, prepare to charge!”

Ginger looked up. Elizabeth and the horsemen they’d met that morning were formed in a rough line, swords drawn.

“Prepare to charge!” Ginger echoed, getting to her feet, smiling. She’d never been so glad to be wrong. Their young commander did have a clue.

“Charge!” Elizabeth kicked her horse into a gallop, leading the horsemen through the trees. The charge wasn’t just one body, but there were enough gaps between the trees for them to pass through. The cavalry charged past Ginger, roaring, swords colored red by the setting sun.

The ogres ran. Even the foot soldiers. Ginger didn’t know why. Ogres were brave, and not the smartest. They liked fighting, though, not as much as orcs. They wouldn’t just run.

A bolt of magic sailed over their heads, exploding amidst the retreating Alavari, and it suddenly clicked for Ginger as she glanced at Frances.

The ogres did want to fight, but against a mage firing lightning bolts? When that mage was backed up by charging cavalry and foot soldiers that were hollering war cries and charging at them? Even orcs wouldn’t want to take this battle.

Ginger whooped with laughter and let herself for the moment, stop wondering about how her superiors were going to screw her over.

---

They didn’t get many ogres. The forest really slowed the horses down and so Elizabeth had, once the ogres were fleeing, called the charge off and had them rejoin the convoy, where the tired soldiers were given their meals.

After an apprehensive sniff, Ginger had hungrily devoured the stew, which was quite good. She had also noticed that while Frances got several bowls of stew, nobody got a different meal. The stately Ayax ate from the same bowl as the convict soldier she was sitting beside. And to Ginger’s confusion, Frances apologized twice for needing to eat more, explaining that she was a mage, and she needed more energy. It was as if she expected somebody to be annoyed for her to be taking her fair share.

It was confusing enough for Ginger to get up and decide to check the supplies. Much as she appreciated the meal, she also knew that most officers tended to think of supplies as an afterthought, especially young officers like Elizabeth.

Only, when she got to the wagon, she saw Martin seated on said wagon, frantically scribbling into a paper with his charcoal pencil.

“What you doin’?” Ginger asked.

“Calculating supplies. We used a little bit of the surplus today to reward everybody. Just want to double check to see how many meals can we make,” said Martin, not looking up. His blue eyes focused on the paper he was writing.

Ginger nodded thoughtfully. “And how much do we have?”

“If we stretch it we have enough for a week, assuming we don’t pick up any more stragglers.” Martin wrote something down and grimaced. “We might be down to hard tack, but we’ll have something to eat. We’ll have to use the fresh stuff first, though. I think we should fight only when we have that available.”

“That’s… what I was going to suggest,” said Ginger, blinking. Wringing her hands behind her back, she coughed. “Do you need any help?”

“That would be nice. Can you read?” At her nod, Martin handed her a sheaf of paper and asked her to check his figures. Ginger did find a few mistakes, but the handsome knight took them in stride and he corrected them quickly.

And the odd feeling Ginger had in her chest grew.

---

Early morning, the convoy… it wasn’t really a convoy any more. They had too many soldiers for that and there was a confidence in the marching humans and Alavari.

In the centre of the column though, near the wagons, the leaders of the… group? Well they were having a heated discussion.

“We’re three hundred against an entire army. We can’t win this!” Ginger hissed.

She’d spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince her superiors that the best thing to do was to end their fighting on a high note and get the hell back to the city. But for whatever reason, they weren’t convinced.

And it was surprisingly not just the Otherworlders’ faults. It was the normal people. Like Ayax, the troll, certainly brave, but perhaps too brave.

“And bring the fight to the city? That’s a terrible idea!” Ayax exclaimed.

Elizabeth nodded. “We’re in terrain that favors our smaller force and allows us to skirmish better. I understand your caution, but we should fight.”

Ginger gritted her teeth. Elizabeth wasn’t wrong, and part of her had to admit the commander’s judgement wasn’t bad. Still, fighting a larger force with a smaller one was still risky as hell.

“Our soldiers don’t have much training, though,” Frances said quietly.

Now as for Frances? Well Ginger was fine with her. She asked sharp questions or made intelligent observations. Ginger only wished she was less of a wet towel and had more backbone.

“Yes, so we need to give them more experience now, when we have some advantages,” said Elizabeth.

“That and we received orders through Frances’s mirror today from Lady Eleanor Windwhistler. We’re to do our best to hold them up while the city rallies their remaining troops,” Martin added.

Ginger glanced at the knight. She had no idea what to think of Martin. On one hand, he was incredibly level-headed and despite being a noble, didn’t mind the commoners giving their thoughts. On the other, the handsome knight had no business being so friggin good at following the rules that most nobles (and commoners) found ways to circumvent.

“How many escaped to the city by the way?” Elizabeth asked. She’d been on watch duty that night and so missed Frances’s latest conversation with her grandmother.

“Ten thousand. The other four thousand were either captured or killed. Somehow, General Yuan survived,” said Ayax. She grimaced, “Our intelligence says the Alavari have been reinforced. They have twenty thousand soldiers.”

Ginger threw her hands up. “Then they can overrun us completely. We need to leave the Pinewoods or else we’re all fucked. That they haven’t just formed a massive skirmish line and just combed the forest is a miracle.”

Elizabeth shut her eyes, rubbing her temples. “Right, I’ve made my decision. We’re going to set up an ambush on the main road through the pinewoods and hit their scouting group. After that, we’ll reevaluate. Maybe one more raid before we get out of here.”

Ginger felt faint. One more raid? Their barely blooded soldiers against the might of Thorgoth’s army? Did these teens not care about dying?

“Oh fuck you! That’ll just get us all killed! Screw our orders and the fucking city. They’re not fighting by our side! They aren’t going to be burying us!”

Ginger blinked as everybody stared at her, and that was when she realized she’d just said that out loud.

Oh no. Oh no. She braced herself, waiting for the inevitable. She’d gone too far this time.

“Ginger, I’m sorry you don’t agree, but I’ve made my decision. Do you need a moment?” Elizabeth asked.

Ginger blinked. Elizabeth was staring at her, but there was no anger, or even disdain. Instead, she, and her friends, were giving her similar looks of an emotion she barely recognized.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Ginger, we do appreciate your input and we thank you for your words of caution,” said Frances. She smiled, “And while I know we can’t agree on this, we’re glad you still told us. That being said, you seem very frustrated and tired and I know you took the sentry watch in the middle of the night. Maybe a nap might help?”

Frances was right. She was tired and irritated because of the night watch. But that wasn’t what was concerning her, and driving her mad at the same time.

“I… fine!” She left the band of crazy teenagers as fast as she could. The faster she could take a nap, the better she might feel.

When Ginger woke up, she realized that the wagon wasn’t rolling. She also found that she was covered by a blanket, and there was a flask of water next to her.

She threw the blanket off of her and grabbed the flask, emptying part of it over her head, and swigging the rest.

A knock on the wooden spar that held the wagon’s canopy made her look to the entrance to the wagon.

There was the damned knight Martin, carrying two bowls of some kind of food and a loaf of bread.

“Hey, Ginger. We just started cooking dinner. Are you feeling better?”

Yes she was. “Kinda,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Food first.”

Martin handed the bowl to her and split the loaf, giving half to her. She yanked it out of his hand and ate, ignoring whatever he thought of her eating habits.

The knight ate slowly, genteely. He was a noble after all and while he did take a seat across her, all he did was eat.

“Okay what are you playing at?” Ginger demanded.

Martin took a bite from his bread. “Well I’ll be honest, I was wondering if you wanted to talk. You know, tell me a little more about yourself.”

“What’s there to tell? I’m a convict. I was a soldier. And if you want to know about my family well they’re just farmers in Leipmont.” Ginger glared at the knight, trying to figure out what the heck he wanted. He had to be beating around the bush for something.

“Well that’s a start. Got any siblings?” Martin asked, smiling.

“Yeah. Too many. I liked them enough, but I needed out of the house. Don’t think my parents want me back. Not after what I did.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Martin pursed his lips. “I have one sibling, an older sister. She’s called Mara and she’s in Roranoak with the expeditionary forces.”

“Makes sense. She’s the heir to Conthwaite.” Ginger frowned. “What are you doing with two Otherworlders and an Erlenberg mage?”

It had been a question bugging her for a while. The four made an odd group and yet, they seemed to work almost in concert. There was this closeness that was irritatingly sincere and sweet. She didn’t believe it for a second. Something else had to be keeping them together.

“Oh, well it’s a long story. I was assigned with Elizabeth to escort Frances during a mission and we became good friends. Frances got adopted by Edana Firehand, her mentor and while meeting the rest of her family in Erlenberg, Ayax joined our little group.”

Ginger blinked, hard. “And you’re all together because you’re friends?”

“Yeah. We trust each other. Plus, Edana’s on the War Council and thought we’d make a good team, which I think she’s right about,” said Martin.

“There’s no… no thing going on between you or any of your buddies?” Ginger asked.

“What thing?” Martin asked, owlishly.

“I thought you had to be sleeping with each other. I mean, one handsome knight, three pretty girls. There has to be some kind of thing going on between at least a pair of you!” Ginger squawked.

Martin’s jaw dropped and shook his head, shivering. “No. Just no. I like—no, I care about them deeply, and I think they’re pretty. But they’re not my type. Besides, I suspect Elizabeth and Ayax are going to be a thing in the future and Frances has… someone else in mind.” The knight cocked his head and gazed up at the sky, shivered again, and met Ginger’s eye. “Yeah nope.”

“What is your type then?” Ginger asked.

The knight blinked and stiffened. “Um, well. I always liked more shapely women.”

As Ginger watched Martin’s eyes, it finally clicked and she grasped why the noble had come and has been so friendly all this time. It was odd, but she could finally explain it.

The only thing she could do… was to make it easier on herself.

Ginger swallowed, put her bread aside and braced herself. “If… if you wanted to sleep with me you could just order me to.”

Martin got up so quickly he knocked his empty bowl over. “Excuse me, what?”

“It’s why you’re being so nice. You like how I look, so you want to screw me. Well whatever, get it over with. I can’t say no,” Ginger muttered, reaching to unbutton her shirt.

“No that’s not what I’m here for!” Martin exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. He leapt off the wagon and backed away. “Ginger, what in Erisdale made you think I wanted to have sex with you?”

“You like how I look, don’t you?” Ginger asked, frowning now, hands frozen at her shirt buttons. She knew she was right about how the knight looked at her. It was very different from how he’d looked at his female friends. Those looks were… brotherly, and proud. That wasn’t how he looked at her. Sometimes he seemed to be curious, and concerned, but no, he definitely liked how she looked. She’d seen similar glances directed at her by other men and women.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I would order you to—Oh shit.” Martin covered his mouth. “Someone else ordered you?”

“Well no, but someone was going to one day—Wait, you didn’t want to fuck me?” Ginger spluttered. She stared at Martin. This didn’t make any sense.

“No! You are pretty, but you don’t want me to do that to you so of course I won’t!”

“Why does it matter? You don’t have to give a damn about what I feel. I’ve had handlers who’d use the seal because I gave them backtalk.” Ginger shrugged. “Just tell me what you want already.”

“I just wanted to get to know you and see if you were alright after your outburst!” Martin groaned and grabbed his head. “Gods damn it all, it’s almost as bad as talking to Frances! Look, Ginger, we, that is myself, Frances, Elizabeth and Ayax don’t want to use this stupid seal and we think this whole mage-maked convict soldier business is despicable! Oh Gods, don’t tell me… Does every convict think the same way as you do and is just waiting for us to use it?”

Staring at Martin, Ginger walked up to him, hands by her side. “You don’t want to use the seal. Really? What a load of horse crap.”

“It’s true!”

“What if I tried to stab you, huh? What if I attacked you? What if I disobeyed an order of yours? What if we disagreed on strategy?” Ginger demanded, stalking closer to the knight, her eyes on his face, watching his bushy blonde eyebrows rise.

“We don’t punish soldiers for disagreeing. If you disobeyed or breached military law we’d discipline you according to military law,” Martin stammered.

“Easy to say that over your dead body? What if I had tied you, flat on your back. Had you at my mercy?” Ginger hissed, she stepped right into Martin’s personal space, her teeth almost bumping into his nose. She was taller than the knight after all. “What if I kissed that cute nose of yours and forced myself on you? Would you still not use the command spell then?”

Martin didn’t meet Ginger’s eyes, but somehow, whether it was his honor, or self-control, he didn’t reach for his sword. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what I would do then. What I do know…” The knight’s bright blue eyes looked up at her. “I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re a good person.”

Crazy bitch.

Evil whore.

Murderer.

Traitor.

You’re a good person.

Ginger stepped back. The feeling in her chest was back again and she didn’t like it. She liked it and didn’t like it at all. She’d felt that before, always before the worst days of her life.

“I’m not,” she hissed. “I’m the crazy murder lady, remember.”

Martin shook his head. “You killed a literal rapist. And you bet I’m telling my mom, the Magistrate of Conthwaite, about this convict soldier mage-mark insanity when I get a chance.” The knight took a deep breath and sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, and I won’t ask you to trust me. So take the time you need, just… don’t stop talking and if you need more time before we get into another battle, let me know. But I’d be glad to have you helping.”

Ginger watched the knight leave, trudging off into the camp they’d set up. She stared at the short boy—no, man’s back.

She didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to trust him, but… despite herself, she was starting to.