02.40: Aftermath — 1

As I entered the town, the ground was covered in bodies, limbs twisted in unnatural angles. Some looked put together, as if they had decided to sleep in the middle of the road. Blood had pooled in ditches. As I passed, my crimson reflection looked back at me from one of them; armored, with tired eyes.

I dulled my sense of smell and taste. The sight alone was gruesome enough.

Most of the bodies lying around wore Ironfeld colors. Some did not.

Ahead of me, the roar of battle reached a crescendo, then petered out. Men screamed here and there. One nearby pleaded for mercy. I hoped the soldiers were following orders and gave it.

Looking around, the town was rather organized. Smithies lined the road, while small houses were packed tight at a distance. The smell of hot iron and coal was in the air. Fires were dying in unattended forges. Hammers and tongs and unfinished work lay scattered across the floor as we had caught the town unawares. The men must have run to hide or help the defenders. I hoped it was the former.

A shutter creaked open. A child’s face emerged from one of the houses. Wide-eyed and pale. A panicked woman jerked him back and slammed the window shut with a thud.

I reached the town’s center with my guards. The marketplace was a picture of chaos. Stalls abandoned in a hurry, their wares scattered on the ground. One of the soldiers, leaning against the wall, was eating an apple.

He straightened when he noticed me. I told him to relax with a wave.

The sound of clinking armor reached me. I turned to see Grimric walking toward me, covered in sweat and blood. He had taken off his helmet, his salt and pepper hair stuck to his head. Blood coated his cuirass.

“Are you fine, Sir Grimric?” I asked.

“I am, my lord,” he exhaled. “The town is yours.”

“You’ve done excellent work. Get some well-deserved rest.”

Nodding, he leaned heavily against a wall, as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

Godwin arrived, six soldiers following behind, surrounding a bound man.

“My lord, this is the town’s lord and the commander of its garrison.”

“Good work, Sir Godwin,” I said, my attention already fixed on the prisoner. Short cropped hair. Eyes closed in resignation. Mid-twenties at most.

I turned my focus back to the mercenary commander. “I hope there is no looting and raping happening in the town?”

He shook his head. “No, my lord. The men know their behavior will count toward their generous combat payment. As per your command, anyone caught breaking the rules will answer as a criminal.”

Footsteps sounded again.

Baron Wulf arrived with several of his men. His eyes found the bound prisoner instantly. He took a step forward, then stopped himself.

“You know this man?” I asked the older man.

His jaw tightened as he glared at the young man before answering.

“He is my sister’s son, Odrik. Sold his honor for gain. Betrayed his own people!” he almost shouted, his voice trembling.

My eyes narrowed at the Baron. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t reveal that fact to me earlier, when the answer came to me by itself. He was ashamed of his own family member doing this.

That explained why Odrik wouldn’t surrender even when Sir Grimric announced I had Laira’s open support.

“That’s why he wouldn’t surrender.”

“Aye. He knew what was coming for him. They’d be no ransom for him.”

I looked back at the young commander.

“What did they promise you, boy?”

He scowled at me.

I smiled.

One of Godwin’s men backhanded him.

That broke the dam.

“I wasn’t supposed to be stuck here! They promised they would give me a position befitting my station in Ironfeld!”

I almost chuckled. A fellow entitled prick.

Except this one has no self-awareness. Nor are his actions trivial enough to be ignored.

“They kept you here because nobody else would fight harder to keep the Wulfsden men away from this town. You did a good job securing it,” I said in genuine admiration.

The new defenses were visible even from the square. A stone wall had been raised behind the wooden palisade, already chest-high, supported by a berm of earth. Some of the archer towers also looked recently-built.

“Too bad you are a traitor to your own people,” I said, then looked at Godwin.

“Set up a gallows.”

The Wulfsden men nodded appreciatively.

Odrik collapsed to the ground. “Mercy, my lord! Uncle, please!”

I looked at his pathetic face. “We gave you one chance. You refused it. Also, I never said the gallows were for you.”

He looked at me in confusion.

“Baron?”

The older man shook his head, eyes closed in grief. “He opened the gates, let the Ironfeld soldiers inside the town while the men slept. They butchered our soldiers. What they did to the women…”

His voice broke and his spine bent.

“Let him reap what he sowed. Hang him.”

Odrik burst into pleas, tears falling down his cheeks, snot leaking from his nose. Soldiers hauled his pathetic ass away, leaving us in peace.

Moore arrived, tired, covered in sweat and grime but unbent.

A chorus of cheers rose from one direction.

Then another.

“My sons are telling the miners they are free from the Ironfelds’ leash,” Wulf told us.

I looked at the men. “Now that all the commanders are here, let us take stock. What did retaking the town cost us?”

Moore rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re still counting, my lord, but at least thirty of our men are dead. Some of the wounded won’t make it either.”

“The defenders?”

“At least seventy dead. Fifty or so wounded. The rest have surrendered.”

I exhaled.

“Take me to our wounded.”

I turned to the others. “Set up a watch. Position those catapults so anyone thinking of crossing the bridge from the other side regrets it.”

The knights nodded.

Moore led me to one of the larger smithies.

Before we had turned to face the door, a muffled scream escaped the building.

My feet tried to stop me.

I pushed on.

We opened the door, and a gruesome scene revealed itself. A soldier was lying on a work table, thrashing in pain, as several men held him down. Darron was sawing off one of his mangled legs, while Gerrin worked to minimize his bleeding.

The room was full of the smell of iron.

Several other wounded lay to the side, groaning in pain.

We stepped back to let the physicians do their job.

“Sire, are you all right?” Moore asked, looking worriedly at me.

“Yes. Just wondering if I was hasty in preparations.”

In my impatience to get back to Chadom and Aprilia.

“Hardly. You hired all the men who were willing to join us and devised that marvelous signaling system. Without it, we would have lost far more men. More soldiers would not have helped.”

No, but a few more of these “marvels” would have. A cannon or two and maybe they would have surrendered without fighting.

I exhaled.

No point in whining. Do better next time.

Once the screams died down, we turned to face the makeshift clinic.

Darron and Gerrin came out, and began scrubbing their forearms with soap and water, as I had told them.

I smiled. That alone would save men from easily preventable deaths.

“What is the situation, masters?” I asked them.

“Four will not make it,” Darron told me, his gruff voice flat. “The fate of five others is in God’s hands. The rest should recover.”

“Thank you for all your efforts.”

I spent some time with the wounded. Reassuring them, promising that they would have work even if they were unfit to fight.

More than one cried in thanks.

When we left the smithy, the civilians had begun furtively emerging from their houses. A young woman’s face was twisted in hate as she spat on the corpse of an Ironfeld soldier.

A boy, no older than twelve, stared at one of our soldiers lying in the mud.

“They died liberating the town,” Moore said to him.

The boy stared at us.

We reached the main gate, which overlooked the bridge to Ironfeld. One of only two permanent crossings. The roar of Iselau rushing underneath filled the air.

Theo, Helad and Benno were walking toward us on the planks.

“Any trouble, boys?” I asked.

“No my lord,” Theo replied, then grinned. “Any day we kill Nan-”

He stopped at the look in my eyes.

“Ironfelds is a good day.”

Moore looked at me for an explanation.

“They’re Cha. You know what Mondgrove did when they were fleeing persecution?”

His face paled.

I turned back to Theo. “The bodies?”

“Gone,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe the river took them.”

“My lord,” a voice called behind us, “the gallows has been prepared.”

I turned around to see Baron Wulf walking towards us.

“You could’ve sent someone else, Baron.”

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his eyes glancing toward the others.

“A kitchen has been set up. Let me take you to it,” Moore offered the men.

They didn’t move.

“I’m not alone this time.”

They finally left.

Wulf watched the hunters walking away.

“Those are the hunters who killed the pigeons and the soldiers guarding the bridge?”

His tone had become a lot more genial after our swift victory.

I nodded.

“Very skilled. Almost as good as my best. Although, if I’m not wrong, they had already killed the men before Sir Grimric had delivered his ultimatum?”

“Yes.”

“If my nephew had accepted the ultimatum, what then?”

“Was it likely to happen?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer. If he had, some Ironfeld guards would have gone missing. There bodies never to be found,” I pointed toward the fast rushing river, loud enough to be heard inside the town.

“That’s not very honorable.”

“No it is not,” I agreed, “and yet had to be done. The pigeons had to be intercepted. For that, the men needed to be in position before the battle began. I was not going to risk my men’s lives for the sake of honor.”

He studied me carefully.

“What are we without honor?”

“Bastards who steal from and kill each other. Its not like we started it. If it eases your mind, I do have ethical limits.”

As the Baron and I walked together in silence, I could sense he wanted to ask something.

“I still find it hard to believe we took the town so quickly,” he said. “It wouldn’t have been this quick or bloodless without those devices of yours.”

I just nodded in response.

He stopped walking.

“I’m not a man to mince words, Count, and neither are you. I would like to purchase some of them.”