“Brave charges deep into the enemy lines generally makes for good tales to be retold to the future generations, or for inspiring passages in the history books. Done right, these charges would secure their goal, usually the head of an enemy commander of importance, and might be influential enough to decide the course of the battle right then and there.

What the stories and the books often neglected to mention on purpose, was how for every successful charge there were three failed ones where all the brave men and women achieved was to deliver themselves to an early grave.” - Bonweisz “Bongo” Tockenweil, veteran mercenary Doppelsoldner.

Grünhildr had not failed to notice the moment the soldiers who still tried their best to prevent the rest of the combined mercenary forces from approaching the command tower wavered. It was not that long after the top of the tower crumbled, something everyone in the vicinity simply could not fail to notice at all, with the ruckus it made.

To their credit, it was not the obviously drugged-up soldiers that wavered - those fought on like madmen without a care for their own well-being and kept coming no matter how many of them were cut down - but likely their commanders. The soldiers somehow still listened to commands even in their drugged-up state, so when conflicting commands came from their commanders, who had just lost their source of direction, their formation could not help but waver and break apart.

The mercenaries abused that opening with extreme prejudice.

Together with the knights under Lady Griselda, Grünhildr led the charge as she cleaved apart any soldier that stood before her, the crescent-shaped blades of her weapon coated with a thin sheen of void magic that simply cut through everything in its way, be it flesh, bone, or even metal weapons and armor. She left bodies cut into pieces in her wake, even as the rest of the troops behind her scrambled to catch up to her pace.

Both the mercenaries and the knights broke through the defending formation within minutes, and they reached the command tower, where they found Elfriede’s detachment putting down the last two resisting guards. Even so, Grünhildr couldn’t help but frown when she saw the situation there, which was not like what she had expected.

The two guards that resisted to the end seemed to collapse on their own shortly after her arrival, as blood poured out of every single one of their facial orifices, and they dropped like puppets with strings cut, despite how they were still fighting viciously moments before. They had clearly taken their toll on Elfriede’s group, however, as Grünhildr immediately noticed how many of them were injured, some badly enough to require the aid of others to even stand.

And Elfriede herself was one of those with such injuries, which surprised the burly woman as she was all too familiar with her old friend’s skills.

“What happened!?” yelled Grünhildr as she ran towards and past the group, headed for the defenses on the other side of the command tower who were fighting against Reinhardt’s and Mischka’s troops that had encircled the area. The burly woman slowed her stride a bit to allow those behind her to catch up to her, as well as to listen to the answer from her old friend.

“Drugs, I’m betting. Our target had what looked like a more potent version of what they gave the soldiers, same with his guards,” explained Elfriede with a wince of pain. “We’re down five, probably six, and half of the rest are out of commission for the time being.”

“Got it,” Grünhildr said with a nod as she jogged away. She herself had noticed that five people were missing out of Elfriede’s twenty-five, three of the younger novices, and two of her veterans, while many of them were nursing injuries that ranged from relatively light if painful, to serious and needing immediate medical attention. The few healers like Loren who were willing to join the combat were with Reinhardt’s group, so to regroup with them became their first priority. “Take a break for now, we’ll get you guys out of here. The rest of you lot, help them out if they can’t run with us on their own!”

WIth nods and grunts of agreement, some of Grünhildr’s burlier subordinates moved to Elfriede’s group, and helped carry the injured on their arms, careful so as not to jolt them too much and aggravate their injuries. Of the injured, Therese and Cassie were in the worst shape, as they were literally holding their wounds to prevent their innards from spilling out wholesale.

Elfriede herself was too badly off to do any more fighting, and simply allowed one of Grünhildr’s men to carry her along, while Ylisera and the still-healthy members of the detachment headed out to help Grünhildr fight through the defenders on the other side.

“Hey, Sera, use this!” said Elfriede just as the elven former prostitute jogged past her. She then threw a glimmering saber over to the elven woman, who deftly caught it by the heavily decorated basket-hilted handle in mid-air and spent a moment to marvel at the sheen of the blade. “Saw you breaking your sabers earlier, might as well use that asshole’s. It’s at least a really good one.”

“Fuck me in the ass,” cursed Ylisera as she looked closer at the saber in her hand. The gleaming silvery saber was slightly different from the one she had used before, which was mostly straight and only swept up to a curved edge near its top. The blade of the saber Elfriede tossed her was gently curved along its length, almost like a willow leaf in shape. More importantly though, Ylisera recognized the silvery sheen of the saber all too well. “This bloody thing’s made out of pure mithril! No bloody wonder he carved through my saber like it was made out of clay!”

“Guess being a noble pays well since they keep showing up with such expensive shit,” said Elfriede in an annoyed tone. “That bastard with the overlong two-hander also had a mithril-edged blade. Would’ve been hard to deal with him had I not gotten the new blades from pops.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. This thing isn’t edged with mithril like your weapon or that one you mentioned,” clarified Ylisera without tearing away her eyes from the saber she held almost reverently in her hands. “This thing’s made entirely out of Mithril. Every bit of the blade. Got to be elvish handicraft, from the looks, so he probably got or robbed it off someone else.”

“Well, it’s yours now,” said Elfriede nonchalantly. “So go chop some heads off with it.”