Fleeing in the middle of the night Micky was cackling as he unleashed the formation he had been building since he had gotten there. It was called the unholy rite, and it was basically as it stated. It defiled an area in unholy energy. Often this would create zombies, but it made a place unlivable as it would kill all living things eventually. Oddly enough [Surgeon]s used it to sterilize their equipment before cleansing it before an operation…

The enemy had cracked through with a small strike force and killed a key member of the shield formation. This caused backlash with the rest of the members only for the enemy to bombard the shield at that exact time. Only for the strike team to attack more members. Basically a well executed plan. Micky would have been impressed, so far there had been a lack of those, and when they did appear they didn’t work. Micky wondered what that said about his own command, when the one time they work is when he is commanding…

But they were prepared, and the tactical formation was ready and waiting. The joke is on them as this entire land is cursed now for several miles. Something that either nation could clean up, if they just had the time. Time they would not receive in a skirmish or war.

So now, unbeknownst to them, they are attacking unholy land, sending their soldiers in to die. Or at least become contaminated. And Micky smiled, knowing that he just killed these people. So many of his enemies would die and he only had to do this one thing.

Of course, he had angered many priests, and possibly a god or two. But the gods were usually laissez faire about it all. Some war gods would even applaud him for it. Though a mild applaud with a blank smiling face while asking one of their advisor angels “Who the heck is this guy again?” Quietly to the side…

Micky cried a bit at the release of the stress. With this he wouldn’t have to worry about them for a little while. Unholy energy wasn’t easy to clean up, though it was simple. So this wouldn’t be something they could clean up in a day or two. No, it would take months of concentrated, uninterrupted effort. And that was if it wasn’t left for too long and became a sort of open dungeon in and of itself. But that was only if it was horribly miss managed.

Micky had already sent in all the paperwork and approval for the cleanup when it was still in the planning phase. The appropriate people were aware and were ready. Micky just hopped that there wouldn’t be too many zombies of fallen heroes as those tended to make the work efforts take more time.

But Micky couldn’t focus on cleanup before the work was even done. They had to retreat and move the line. All the while the enemy kingdom was nipping at their heels. A soldier taken while retreating here, a minor ambush there. It was nasty fighting in the backwoods. Nothing like the organized battle of true warfare. Micky could understand why the legate looked down on it. Didn’t make him any less of an idiot.

Micky now understood the man should not have been put into command over a large contingent. This didn’t mean he wasn’t a valiant fighter. Had it been a small contingent, particularly of cavalry he would have put the man in charge in a heartbeat. But he had been leading a massive force, he needed to be detail oriented. Micky himself was floundering in all the details. Though he has only been in command for a short time.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now he needs to gtfo. The enemy are on patrol and they already captured many centurions that took a large contingent. He would need to send a rescue party eventually, couldn’t have them in enemy hands for long…

But that would come when he wasn’t otherwise engaged. Micky ducked under a wild swing of an axe. Mags sent the guy flying but not before his friend could send an arrow through were Micky’s head shoulda been, or in this case, shouldn’t have been. He received a three knuckle long gash across his cheek, but it wasn’t at all deep. Just a scratch, and he wasn’t just saying that.

Mags decided enough was enough and she threw the man at his companion. Now this was not a tame throw either, no, both were now unconscious at least. But there were more enemies about so Micky could only top her up with [Moral] and [Regenerate] before they quickly moved on. He had released the quilin to run free, but she knew better then to leave, and would meet them back at the new base.

… At least he hoped she did, since she was no longer accepted in monster land, and the enemy would have her head, and anyone from Aene would bring her back to him. She wasn’t unnoticeable or something that could so easily be sold at a black market. So she would probably come back… eventually…

Meanwhile he was busy, and he had to get out, as reasonably quietly as he could. He had to worry about himself first for now. The rest of the army knew their orders in the meantime which meant he would have a string of court marshals for when he set up camp again. All those people that thought they knew better than to follow orders.

Dodging arrows and running as fast as he could, he finally arrived at the new base. It was beautifully militarily terrible. As to be expected. At least it was to military standard, the one thing you could count on from the military. They did enjoy their standards.

Micky arrived at the open gates along with several others. Then he realised that they were inspecting their equipment at the gates, annoying but fine. Then he realised that they were taking toll at the gates. Micky was piiiissed. Somebody was [Dead] today and it wasn’t going to be from arrow fire…

The line slowly moved forward. Micky would have jumped out but they arrested the last woman they jumped out of line and stated she was a centurion. And Micky knew her, she was a centurion…

And while Micky didn’t have time for this, he would have to deal until he could get through the gates.

Finally arriving at the gates, at least they had a reasonable amount of speed there considering there was a fucking war on, Micky stood by as he was being inspeced.

Of course, that meant eyeballing his interestingly engraved and enchanted staff as well as figuring out how much Mags would go for skinned. When the soldier was about to open his mouth to make a request with his greedy little eyes Micky simply stated “Try it.”

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening a guard of Aene?” Asked the guard.

“Where the fuck is your gaurd captain?” Asked Micky.

“He’s through there, but who the fuck do you...” Micky ignored the guard momentarily.

… At least until he got to a blind spot away from the other guards. The guard said “Now you, you listen here. You stop right there and...” He didn’t get to finish his sentence this time either as Micky stabbed him in the gut. Of course, this wouldn’t have been enough, and the guard would have screamed, but Mags finished the job. Placing the guard away a bit so that he would only be spotted when Micky wanted them to Micky traveled to see the guard captain. Apparently he would need to retrain the guard as well, Always move in pairs, always outnumber the enemy or suspect. Did these rejects just watch guards in the city and think ‘I could do that’?

Micky charged into the guard captain’s office, almost bursting the door off its frame. “What the hell do you think your doing? Do you know who I am? I’m the son of...” Micky didn’t let him get to finish that sentence as Mags had him on the wall.

“Do you know who I am? I’m your fucking commanding officer’s commanding officer’s commanding officer, if you’re lucky.” Micky slapped him across the face and had mags toss him. The man was dead already, but he didn’t know how dead and Micky wouldn’t let him on to that until much latter. “Now take me to your prison cells.” Micky never thought he would have to jailbreak his own prison, but hey, dumber shit has happened… probably...