Screams of agony echoes through the forest. Arrows were loosed. Shields were splintered. Blood was drawn. An iron smell permeated the forest. Guts slithered through the ground. An army relentlessly marched through it, stepping over mangled corpses and partially decomposed heads. They ignored the smell. They gave no mercies to survivors. They marched on. Armoured feet thumped the ground as they stepped in perfect cohesion. Banishing the howl of wolves, the songs of birds and the sound of wildlife altogether. They cut down centuries old trees and by magic; erected siege towers and numerous trebuchets.

Wendell opened his eyes. He noticed he couldn't move an inch of his muscles except his eyes.

He looked around noticing the dark shadow creeping closer to him.

'Who goes there?!' He wanted to shout. He wanted to stand up and grab his sword. But he could do neither. His muscles being stubborn; he tried to relax and wait. Wait...

The splotch of darkness went on top of him when suddenly it transformed into a beautiful woman. Luscious brown hair tied in a ponytail, pale white skin and deep green eyes stared at him. Florice! How are you here? Wendell tried to will his hands to caress her cheeks.

Her bright green eyes started to emulate a red hue. In a span of what seemed like a second her face turned to a bright smile then it contorted into a furious scowl and she growled. 'Why did you leave me behind!?' It shrieked which caused Wendell to close his eyes.

That's not Florice!

Wendell wanted to talk. He wanted his mouth to open. To no avail.

He continued to close his eyes until he went back to sleep.

The sun pierced through the glassless window.

Wendell once again opened his eyes. Remembering what happened last night caused him to breath faster, nearly hyperventilating. The thumping of his heart was heard from miles away. He took a breath and let it out. Repeating the cycle for an entire minute.

He routinely checked every part of his body for any hidden injuries. There was none.

Someone knocked the door and Wendell quickly put his garments back on and bid them to enter.

A woman in her twenties stepped in wearing a modest tunic made of rags of fur stiched together in a messy pattern. "Milord, would you like a bath?"

"Yes please. I need it."

They hauled in the water filled tub and he dunked himself in it. Wendell took his time trying to remember his bizarre dreams. Hallucinations perhaps? Why couldn't I move? It didn't seem like a dream. He ranted on mentally.

The marcher Baron impatiently dried himself and got dressed.

He walked through the largest keep in the village passing by several of his family's crest. 'Four bright towers with a wall connecting them together.' Its ironic that our crest is based on defensive structures but It did little to protect me. Then again, those cowards attacked when we were hunting! He remembered indignantly. I hope Florice is alright. I hope she's managing. She probably thinks I'm dead. Wendell slumped to the wall and nearly fell to the ground.

The servants rushed at him but he whisked them away saying 'pay no heed to me'.

He lumbered and knocked into the villlage's Marshall.

Marshall Fret, a middle aged man with a fixed scowl, bowed to his Liege and offered him a seat.

"Marshall have you done what I ordered?"

"Yes my lord. About four dozen villages have responded across the Trapped forest. Thankfully, not one of them was spotted and each village suffered no casualties."

"That's very good news. From Surman castle or other settlements near it?"

"We sent double the amount of ravens towards them my lord, but not one has come back with a message." Marshall Fret muttered a prayer to Allure.

"That is very troubling. Let's assume they have a large number of sharpshooters and stop sending them ravens. For now I want the hidden villages close together to group up and gather their manpower."

Fret straightened his back on his chair and a smirk present on his face. "Are we going to strike back my lord?"

"No not yet."

The Marshall's smile was replaced with a frown after listening and took a questioning glance to his liege.

"I don't want them to act just yet. I can't risk them blowing their cover and the invaders spotting them. As soon as they spot one, they may get suspicious.

"Instead I want the nearest villages nearest to this village -" He paused trying to remember the name of the hidden village -"They shall levy their forces and rally here in Sarbick."

The Marshall, disappointment still plastered on his face, curious with his liege's proposal kept quiet for him to explain further.

"Whilst their gathering, I want one of your best hunters to be my scouts and order them to look for small, detached gathering of foreign invaders. I trust them to know the difference." I don't want to patronise them by telling them how they look like. They'll obviously stand out with their ridiculously large shields. Now that I think back they were quite uniformed. But no banners. No crest. No symbols. Who are these people? If they weren't so uniformed and the same, I would think they were bandits. Extremely skilled bandits.

Fret nodded and beckoned him to continue.

"We, as a group, will pick off the stragglers and small groups and target their supplies. From what your telling me, they number in the hundreds. So hopefully they'll spread out to forage more making our tasks easier."

"Already ahead of you my lord. As soon as I heard you were attacked by an army, I immediately called out to nearby marshalls to gather here. They should be arriving within an hour. Our guards also kind of act as scouts. So we should be hearing of enemy movements from them."

The Baron puffed his chest out in suprise. "Amazing initiative Marshall Fret! If we succeed this and drive them away, I'll grant any request you'll have that's within my means."

The middle aged man smiled and widened his eyes and loudly mumbled, "I was just doing my duty my lord."

They were interrupted by a messanger gasping for his breath. She quickly regained her breath and took time to say the appropriate pleasantries, "They've arrived."

Saunders hauled his square shield unto his back and attached it to his pauldrons. Carrying this shield is a huge pain in the arse! As he followed the small stream going downstream with five dozen men. They made good progress down the river and would occasionally stop to forage or hunt an unlucky deer.

The repetitive day bored him too much so he took time to think and gazed on the moving water reflecting the bright blue skies.

Most of the people here - Saunders took a shy glance towards his company - are veterans of the war twenty years ago. I was but a babe of six back then so I can't really relate to them. But my dad was. I still remember him jumping out of his horse with one of his eyes missing and a large scar in his forehead. I still remember him hugging mom and muttering 'We've lost', over and over again, and slumped to the ground. I had to help mom carry him to their bed.

Both my parents were avid believers of the Francian Doctrines that became popular across the west of the Empire. They believed that Allure made everyone in her own image and therefore made everyone equal under the eyes of almighty Allure.

My parents talked about tales in their former home. The Francian protectorate, subservient to the Allurion Empire. For centuries they spread the dogma of the elite. Not of Allure. For centuries they espoused the ridiculousness of a 'divine social order'. The dukes, counts and barons abused this belief to strengthen their hold over the people. Especially the peasants. The downtrodden part of society.

My mom spoke of how she and dad married together in secret and didn't inform their lord for fear that they may practice the right of the first night. Another disgusting abberations that the nobles put into the central tenets of Allure. Those arrogant morons thought so highly of their divinity that they think it is their right to spread the 'divinity' around, and how we stupid peasants should be greatful.

Saunders noticed his company leader holding his hand. A signal to stop. Didn't we just forage like two hours ago? What's going on? Are we camping already? The sun hasn't even reached noon yet!

The company of battle hardened soldiers stopped and took a surveying glance across the river and the myriad of trees.

He saw one of them drawing his short sword and swiftly hefted the behemoth of a shield in front of him.

The young Francian mercenary panicked and started to shiver. Looks like this'll be my first battle. Dad please help me once again!

He took a while to steady his breathing and unsheathed his sword and slung the shields clumsily in front of him.

One of the grizzled veterans next to him stifled a laughter and gave me a quick jab. "Yer Answell's kid aren't ye?" He whisphered.

"That would be me."

The man was shocked to hear him speak and said, "You speak wrong yung ladd. What happened to yer francian accent."

Oh dear. If I had a copper coin for everytime someone said that, I would be swimming in it. He willed himself to respond carefully without a hint of annoyance.

"Didn't stay in Francia for long. I travelled with a merchant troupe across the empire."

"Then ye have an adventurer spirit on ye kid. I believe goin' miles away from home is not that appealin'."

Saunders stared back at him in puzzlement. Your currently in, nearly, the centre of the Empire. A hub of trade and commerce! He wanted to reply in jest back but was sadly interrupted by an arrow whizzing past them.

"Shield wall!"

The company clumped together in brilliant choreography and stacked their shields together which covered them in all angles. A shield wall of seven feet high formed around them.

Dozens of arrows approached them and almost all of them hit the shields or the ground around them. He could hear several muted groans. Someone must've been unlucky.

"Crossbows!"

Shit! We don't even know where they are. Why are we shooting already?

The top layer of shields momentarily dropped and the crossbowmen loosed three dozen arrows in all direction. Several screams were echoed through the forest.

How did someone get hit from that! We must've been surrounded by a large number of enemies for that to happen. This isn't looking good. Is this Allure punishing me for doubting her existence?

A handful of exchanges later and a large number of light armoured men charged straight towards them. They're wearing no armour whatsoever. Just a bunch of savages with rags. This should be easy - 'Never underestimate your enemy!' He remembered his day say. Even my dad is scolding me from his grave.

The attackers attacked with ferocity. Hacking the shields away and stabbing through the gaps.

Saunders swiftly hid behind his shield, narrowly dodging a sword aimed for his shoulders. He stabbed back and alternated his attacks to the left, right or at the top.

A lucky swing to the left hit his shoulders. That's going to bruise. "Thank Allure for pauldrons." He habitually muttered beneath his breath.

The savages retreated back allowing the formation to cycle between their ranks.

I'm third ranked deep now. He stared at his fellow mercenary clutching his crossbow in anticipation and gave a nod of sympathy.

The man nodded back in grim determination.

Saunders took this blessing to regain his breath. He didn't know how many of those savages he killed and didn't know how many bruises and scratches he suffered.

They stood in formation in pregnant silence until the company commander ordered them to resume a marching stance.

We have three dead right here! Are we just going to leave them alone!

He sent several glances at the veterans shocked at their acceptance of leaving their comrades in arms like this. The only one who returned the shocked gaze was the crossbowmen he saw earlier.

Disgust and anger swelled in him until he was shoved forward by the man who he was talking to just before the battle started.

"Yer lucky kid. Most people who kill'd would usually vomit after seeing a 'uman life fading away. As the musty irony smell of blood spill on them. Yer real lucky that you got to do the dirty work behind a shield's wall."

Bewilderment replaced anger and the young mercenary looked back and saw twenty-two corpses littered the fields with three of them having a huge slit across their neck. Some of them were still bleeding from their necks and spitting out blood mixed with saliva.

He quickly averted his gaze and continued marching. They needed to rally towards Surnam castle quickly or they'll get picked off one by one by these savages.