The Khods within Hythe weren’t solemn like the ones that fought on the front line, in fact the opposite was true.

Jolly laughter and conversation reverberated throughout the village. The men guzzled booze and helped themselves to whatever they fancied, be it food, drink, or the local women.

All were considered delicacies from Khodor down south, a land too frigid to cultivate the many crops needed to produce such luxuries. It was a nation that lacked natural resources, plagued by frequent famine.

The way they circumvented this issue was by taking the lands and resources of its neighbors, more often than not via military means. Generations of pillaging and conquest had earned them a bad reputation, especially among the Astoundrian people who’d often been subject to their brutality.

No one would’ve guessed that they’d try to take Astoundria in the midst of the war against demons though. They refused to even take it cleanly.

Instead of just launching a full out invasion of Astoundria, which most likely would have succeeded within just a few months considering that they were already facing a full demon assault to the north, they instead opted to slowly eat away at the southern border.

Maybe it was to allow them to whittle down the demon army, maybe it was out of fear or caution. Whatever the reason, it obviously wasn’t in the best interests of humanity.

They saw the opportunity, a juicy and ripe nation that had left it’s back door wide open for them. The only thing that stood in their way was one ramshackle fort and a couple dozen broken men that were too small in number to even leave their fort safely, let alone pose a serious threat. What reason did they have to fear?

The Khods within Hythe embodied this sentiment perfectly. They indulged in all the pleasures they wanted, uncaring and unworried by the men of Dagridge.

Ignorant to the havoc that was soon to unfold.

Just a few paces from where the flickering torchlight ended lay three figures, flat on their bellies and covered in foliage. Trailing nearly half a mile behind them was a force of two dozen men, poised and ready for action.

The plan needed to be executed with clockwork precision. A minute too early meant there’d be too many Khods on patrol, a minute too late and they would be caught in the act red handed.

In the worst case scenario, it would be Geld, Henry, and Malt versus all fifty Khods. Even if they somehow wormed their way out of that situation, security would be increased and the chances of infiltrating would be near impossible.

The pressure was mounting and Malt was suffering every minute of it. He understood why the three of them were chosen for the job; Henry, who could use his knowledge to fix the bomb in the event of a malfunction, Geld for his combat ability and vast wisdom in evasion, and himself mainly because he was something like Geld’s student. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting cold feet.

For the hundredth time, he ran through Stromunds instructions, clinging to every word.

***

Stromund pointed to the eastern edge of the map, “At exactly midnight I want the three of you to breach the eastern perimeter. Luckily they haven’t built ramparts, so all you need to do is get past the fence and be on your way.”

Geld was still looking over the written information, internalizing any data that might come in handy. “Looks like there’s a good chance a two man patrol’s coming by around that time. Should we take them?”

“I’ll leave that up to you. They’ll most likely raise the alarm if the patrol doesn’t check in though, so it might be safer to leave them be.”

Geld shook his head with a far off expression, most likely simulating the operation within his head. “No, the next stage is to trace the perimeter to the southeast, am I right?”

“Good guess. Their defences are strongest from west to north, in the direction of Dagridge and the battlefield. Southwest is a no go too because that’s where they ship lumber to the main force, so the most vulnerable area should be southeast.”

“In that case we should take them out. The map says they patrol clockwise so if we leave them alive we’d have to look out for them while tracing the perimeter. Plus it should take them almost ten minutes to reach check in to the south, we should be done with the operation by then.”

Stromund looked at Geld, impressed. “Huh, guess you weren’t a fugitive for nothing.”

Geld closed his eyes and smiled slightly, like he was remembering a fond memory. “You learn a lot when you’re on the run.” He quickly washed the expression from his face and returned his attention to the map.

“From here I say we make a beeline to the barracks.”

Stromund traced a circle around the target building, “Not a good idea. The area around the barracks is well lit and has a guard standing at each corner. The only option here is to take them both out without alerting anyone. Think you can do it?”

Geld looked more than skeptical, “Definitely not. The chances of that working are abysmal.”

“Got any ideas then?”

“...it’s a bit of a far shot, but I’ll try to lure the southwestern guard away.” He pointed toward Henry and Malt, “In that time you two need to kill the southeast guard and plant the bomb.”

Henry shook his head, “From the map there looks to be a good fifteen yards of open space we’d have to run through to get to the guard.”

Geld snickered, “Relax, I’ve already thought that part through.” He pointed to a building half way between the perimeter and the barracks. “We lure two guards to this building and kill them. You two take their gear and use that as a disguise.”

Malt was unconvinced by the plan. “Henry and I look nothing like Khods and we don’t speak the language.”

It was true, the Khods in general often grew lots of facial hair and had flatter, more masculine features.

“You don’t need to. You’ve seen Khod helmets, yeah?”

He nodded dubiously.

Khodic helmets were generally conical with a strip of steel protecting the nose. Some of the higher ranking soldiers had chainmail coverings called aventails protecting their necks and faces.

“Especially in the darkness with nothing but flickering torchlight, they won’t notice you. They’re looking for general features, no details.”

A bead of sweat started rolling down the side of Henry’s face despite the cold weather. “Damn...that’s pretty rough. How much time until the bomb explodes?”

“No clue.”

“Wait what?”

Stromund sighed, “We’ve no clue how long it takes for this thing to blow. I’ve called Alyss to examine it but she isn’t a scholar so it's really up in the air for now.”

Malt tilted his head in confusion, “Is there a difference?”

Stromund picked up the stone and held it between two fingers, “Scholars and wizards study ways to manipulate magic through logic and mathematics. Priests and priestesses pray to their deity to incite miracles. So basically, they’re not doing the magic, the deities are. I was hoping she’d have some insight though…”

“Speak of the devil.” Everyone looked to the direction to see Alyss trodging her way to the table.

She was in terrible condition. Her priestly white garments were covered in mud, dried blood, and puss. Although she made an effort to wash her hands, the space under her nails and the crevices in her palms were stained with crusty viscera.

There were bags under her eyes and she looked pale and sickly. It was obvious at a glance that she’d seen some things that a fifteen year old shouldn’t have.

Everyone looked at her in sympathy. Even Geld, whose lips were almost always stretched in a confident smirk, was looking her over empathetically.

“...you ok?”

She nodded groggily, “I’m managing somehow.” She walked over to the table and picked up the stone in one hand, “Is this it?”

Stromund nodded slowly, still fixated on her appearance. “...yeah, I was wondering if you could tell us how long it’d take for that to explode.”

She rolled the stone around a bit before enclosing it in her fist and squeezing slightly. She shut her eyes, brows furrowed in concentration.

After a few seconds of this, she opened her hand back up and placed the stone back onto the table. “I can’t tell you exactly how long it’ll take, but I can vaguely feel the mana flowing through it. I’d say...two, maybe three minutes?”

Stromund stroked his chin, “That's...way too long. We have a maybe five minute window. Is there any way to shorten it?”

Alyss shook her head, “I’ve no experience in mana manipulation, I was only taught how to sense it.”

He turned to Geld and then to Henry, who both shook their heads. He quickly glanced at Malt, “I don’t suppose you have any ideas, Malt?”

Malt played with the texture of the table, deep in thought for a few moments, “...I might have one.”

He looked to Malt in surprise, “That’s unexpected. I thought you didn’t even know about mana stones until today.”

“Well, I haven’t. I’ve just got a general idea.”

Geld crossed his arms, “Well, out with it then.”

“Why don’t we shorten it physically instead of magically?”

“...I suppose we could, ...maybe a fuse mechanism of sorts?”

He shook his head, “I was thinking something even simpler. Just crush it up into a powder, it should blow faster that way.”

Henry’s face lit up with realization, “I see! Kind of like how salt dissolves faster the finer it is, right?”

Stromund looked at Malt, impressed. “This…this could work. We’ll work out the specifics later, but let’s go on for now.”

He pointed on the map to where the bomb would be placed, “After it blows, the rest of us’ll rush in and mop up the survivors.”

Geld raised an eyebrow, “We’re not taking the town right?”

He shook his head, “We can’t. Not enough men to spread between Dagridge and Hythe. We’ll bring some wagons in so take everything useful. There’s no storehouse there because it’s so close to the battlefield, but there’s a blacksmith so we can prioritize that.”

A look of concern crossed Henry’s face, “What’s going to happen to the villagers?” He looked panicked, like he was getting ready to hear an answer he didn’t want to.

Stromund gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, “Relax kid, we’re taking them with us. We can always use more manpower. We’ve got around half an hour before a punitive force comes. After we evacuate and plunder, raze the entire village. Especially the mill near the eastern perimeter.”

He turned his attention back to the map and traced a long, winding line back to the direction of Dagridge. “Now this is the rough part. We need to make a mad dash through the forest and back to Dagridge. Load the wagons with the elders, sickly, and children along with the loot. There’s not enough space for all of them, so make the able bodied ones go on foot.”

“The punitive force is probably coming on horseback, what then?”

“Burn everything behind us. It hasn’t rained in a while so the trees in the forest should be pretty flammable. There should be a line of men in the back ushering the villagers forward while buying time for the escape.”

He looked to everyone at the table, “That should be the entire plan. Any questions?” Seeing that no one raised a hand, he rolled the map back up.

“Perfect, now all that’s left are the preparations.”

***

Malt bit his lip, the plan was daring and largely depended on himself and the other two. He tried to distract himself by looking into the village, which was a bad idea now that he saw that the Khods were much better equipped than the soldiers at Dagridge.

Suddenly, Geld raised his hand slowly off the ground, only a few inches really. The little motion tore Malt from his anxiety. As his hand slowly clenched into a fist, Malt readied himself.

The signal had been signed, midnight had just struck.