A Perverted Path to Victory

Sara Brown

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She shaded her eyes as she watched the griffons circle. Even with their wings spread wide, they were so high that their profiles were barely more distinct than floating bits of dust. Two were directly above the marching Imperial army, with three more waiting a ways off, hovering like massive vultures.

“There must be something they don’t want us to know,” Sara said.

“That much seems obvious,” Evie agreed. “But the question is, are they doing so as a basic precaution, or to hide something more dangerous?”

The pair of griffons, which were flying nearly wingtip to wingtip, were Imperial griffons. Scouts. The trio opposite them were Rebel griffons, presumably flying out of the city of Ta-Pet, which General Borek’s army was currently marching down on. Though she couldn’t tell from the road, which seemed the same as ever, they were apparently less than an hour away from breaking into the clearing which surrounded the enemy city. She and Evie were walking near the head of the column, placed slightly away from General Borek and his command staff, many of whom were craning their necks back to watch the aerial standoff as well.

The enemy griffons, despite their numerical superiority, hadn’t attacked. Yet every time the Imperial scouts tried to make a move for the army to report their scouting effort’s results, their opposite had tucked into a steep dive, cutting them off. They seemed less interested in defeating their opponents than they did preventing General Borek from receiving his scouting reports.

“Do you think we should move the cannons further back into the column?” Sara asked. “If they’re planning something they don’t want us to know about, the cannons are a likely target.”

Evie pursed her lips, considering, then shook her head. “No. Our scouts appeared over their city little more than an hour ago. They wouldn’t have had time to prepare an ambush capable of threatening our artillery in so short a time.”

“They’ve known we were coming for days, though,” Sara reminded her. “Even if they weren’t absolutely sure we’d attack Ta-Pet, it was a pretty safe bet. We’ve been marching west for a while now.”

“The Imperial vanguard will uncover any ambushes, I feel sure. Or, failing that, spring the trap in place of our cannons. They are nearly as tempting a target as the artillery.”

Sara supposed that was true. The Imperial vanguard was a group of Krapeu-riding Warriors, elite soldiers who carried long polearms on the back of horse-sized crocodiles. They were the jungle’s equivalent of Knightly cavalry, though they weren’t a tenth so numerous. Unlike their northern cousins, they operated in small groups across the battlefield, using the jaws of their beasts as often as their blades to crack open weak points in the enemy lines. If there was an ambush waiting for the army, the enemy wouldn’t dare miss the chance to spring it on the vanguard.

“General Sara!” Borek called, waving her over. “I wish to clarify some points with the Powdered Lead’s involvement in the upcoming siege.”

Though there was technically no way she should have known it, Sara was well aware that he had no real interest in rehashing the days-old battle plan. No, he was calling her over because some of his colonels were doubting the plan of action at the very last minute, and he knew they wouldn’t dare disagree with Sara straight to her face.

She sighed, rolling her neck side to side to work out the cricks as she joined the small cadre of self-important officers. Some of them weren’t all that bad, of course. The ones that had clawed their way up the ranks from humble beginnings were tolerable, as a general rule. But most of the Imperial officers had been all but born to their position, and it was from them that the larger army had sprouted a culture of an unyielding failure to compromise. Two centuries of on-again, off-again civil war was a brutal thing for a society to undergo, and she once would have thought that it would have helped to separate the wheat from the chaff.

Turns out, all it really did was create a group of people very, very good at learning pre-selected strategies. At least in this case. The high Generals of the Empire were, by necessity, intelligent, competent strategists. Those who weren’t had been killed years ago. But the middling officers? Those who had been born to a noble house, spent a small fortune being educated in centuries-old doctrine, then waded into battle with nothing but glory on their minds?

“We should still prepare our own siege engines,” Lieutenant Siongh said, pounding a fist into his palm for emphasis. “We cannot be certain these strange weapons will be effective against the wall’s enchantments.”

“The cannons and their iron projectiles do not have a single spell of their own,” another Lieutenant emphatically agreed. “I think it likely they will fail to penetrate Ta-Pet’s defenses, General. Conventional methods have worked for decades, and we know-”

“If you think I’ve ever failed to penetrate something,” Sara said, slipping into the circle, “you don’t know me very well. The cannons will knock down the walls.”

The reaction of the officers was predictable. She’d seen it a dozen times by now. They flinched at her sudden appearance, then twitched again, just barely arresting their natural instinct to bow at her arrival. Most of them still ducked their heads respectfully, a compromise Sara had been forced to expect. Of those who reacted to her arrival properly— that is, by barely acknowledging it— she was mildly surprised to see Lieutenant Siongh among them. The vanara officer wore a set of unenchanted armor, plain and undecorated by Imperial standards, and had the habit of wrapping his tail around his waist like a belt while he spoke.

“Your cannons are powerful, ma’am,” he said, “but they are not the solution to every problem, no matter what your artillery officers insist.”

“I will admit, they tend to be overzealous in their desire for bombardment, but that’s the nature of their position. I wouldn’t want anyone less eager in their role. As for the walls?” Sara glanced at the ten 12-pounders that were being hauled by a mixture of her own troops and Imperial volunteers. An entire crowd of people walked behind them, sharing the burden of dozens upon dozens of ammunition caissons. “It doesn’t matter how strong the enchantments are. We have enough ammo to blast our way through a mountain.”

“Be that as it may, your cannons are a limited factor. Would it not make sense to allow all our forces to participate in the siege, so as to end it soonest?”

The officer cadre shifted uneasily. Lieutenant Siongh’s tone was pressing at the very edge of Imperial custom.

Sara grinned widely. It was about time someone actually nutted up and called her on her shit. It was a shame it was someone who was wrong, though.

“How do you plan to do that?” Sara asked. “If the Powdered Lead are bombarding the walls from a thousand yards away, where are you going to put your mages? In the line of fire, directly underneath the bombardment?”

General Borek glanced between Sara and Siongh, irritated. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. By all rights, Siongh arguing with the will of a Divine Chosen should have seen him stripped of his rank, tied to a post, whipped to unconsciousness, and thrown in a dungeon to be forgotten about. Yet Sara was officially acting as only a mercenary, and one who wasn’t even the commanding officer of the Powdered Lead. By her own self-appointed definition, Sara was in the wrong for so brazenly disagreeing with an Imperial officer.

Long before Borek could untangle the political implications of it all, Lieutenant Siongh was already firing back.

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I would have the mages and siege weaponry assembled directly underneath your line of fire to Ta-Pet’s walls. They do not have the range of your artillery, but they are designed to counter enchantments in a way that your cannons are not.” He raised his eyebrows, leaning forward. “Unless, of course, after all that bragging you and your troops have done, you do not actually have the requisite faith that your artillery crews can avoid striking friendly troops?”

“Lieutenant!” General Borek barked, the line crossed. “You will find it in you to respect our allies, or you will be silent!”

Sara, for her part, laughed loudly. It was a reaction that the young Lieutenant clearly despised, judging by the way his tail tightened even further around his waist, but he didn’t back down. It was an attitude she wanted to encourage, even when she didn’t agree. She waved aside General Borek’s scorn, smiling at the feisty Lieutenant.

“Alright. I mean, I’m not in charge of anything on your side of the fence, but if you want to push up some siege units and manage to get the permission for it, feel free to. We won’t hit them. But they’ll have to get in range of Ta-Pet’s defenses, and that means they’ll take casualties they wouldn’t have if you just waited for the Napoleons to do the job.” She nodded to General Borek. “Ask him, not me. But I’ve got no objections.”

Arguments erupted with a vengeance, most of them focusing on how stupid of an idea it was to make a major change to the battle plan so shortly before it began. The counterpoint, that a siege was a lengthy affair that would provide more than enough time to improvise, was undermined by the varying estimates of how long it would take the Napoleons to break down the walls.

Sara left them to it without further comment, returning to Evie up near the head of the column. Her wife was walking with a bike at her side, like many of the Powdered Lead troops. Sara had wanted to deploy them with folding bicycles which could be strapped to their back, but the manufacturing capability hadn’t been there yet. Instead they were forced to shuffle along with the rest of the army in somewhat awkward fashion, just waiting for the chance to break free of the far larger, far slower force they were attached to.

“Anything of note, dear?” Evie asked.

“Not really. They didn’t think the cannons would do the job on their own, so some of them wanted to push their own siege units up. Mages and whatever. I told them they could, but it wasn’t our fault if they got themselves killed.”

“Mm.” Evie turned her attention to the wheeling griffons high above, a frown decorating her face. “I do wish we could receive that scouting report. I am increasingly certain that the efforts our enemy is undertaking to prevent their return is indicative of a serious threat.”

Sara was about to respond, then cocked her head, listening to the ripples of information which her Blessings brought to her.

“Careful what you wish for.” She pointed ahead. “The vanguard’s coming back. And they’re in a hurry.”

Evie cursed lightly under her breath, wheeling the bike around. Sara hopped on, pedaling up to the front of the formation with Evie balancing on the pegs. It was a comical sight to Sara’s modern sensibilities, yet here in the Empire, it was purely practical. Bicycles were a military instrument, not something kids played with. She could hear the conversation easily, of course, but Evie couldn’t, and it was important to keep the secret.

They arrived just as one of the Warriors pulled up to a High Lieutenant of the Imperial Army. Most of the vanguard continued past, heading to restrain their mounts and report to General Borek, but one stopped, saluting from atop their slobbering beast. The High Lieutenant was another of the endless litany of faceless officers whose names Sara only remembered thanks to her Blessings, as they were too unremarkable to care about otherwise.

“The enemy is sallying out as we speak,” the woman panted. “They were pouring across the city’s bridges just as we arrived, marching at the double towards the road.”

“What?” Evie hissed under her breath. “Why would they abandon their defenses?”

The High Lieutenant asked very nearly the same question.

“I don’t know,” the Warrior snapped irritably. Her Krapeu let out an ominous, low-pitched rumble, which caused many of the nearby soldiers to back away. “Perhaps they think their walls are useless against cannonfire, or maybe they think their new firearms will win them the day. By numbers, it appears their garrison outnumbers us considerably.”

“How badly are we outnumbered?” Sara asked, stepping up to the High Lieutenant’s side. She had sent Ketch ahead to Ta-Pet, but hadn’t yet received her first report.

The Warrior bowed her head in formal greeting to Sara. “I do not know, Chosen. When we fled to give our report, there were twice our army’s number already on the field, and more still emerging from the city.”

“Shit.” Sara looked at Evie, who had a fierce scowl on her face. “What do you think?”

“I believe they are attempting to bottle us up on the road, nullifying much of our weaponry’s advantage.” She looked up at the Warrior. “How many firearms did you note among the enemy?”

“A great number of them. Perhaps a third of their force was equipped with muskets of some description.”

Sara cursed again. It didn’t matter how much worse the enemy’s guns were than their own. The fact that they had them at all was a huge force multiplier, and nullified much of the advantage the Imperial Army would have otherwise claimed.

“Sara.” Evie pulled one of her pistols from her belt, inspecting it closely. “The enemy is attempting to prevent us from using our artillery by pinning our force on the road. The Imperial Army will not reach the open field in time to prevent this.” She slipped her pistol back into its holster. “I believe it is time that we earned our pay.”

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Mui Thom

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There was something to be said for the old ways of war. When he had fought in past battles, Mui had thought they were horrific. The clatter of steel against steel, spear against spear, and the constant, unending push and shove, blocks of interwoven soldiers exhausting themselves in the effort to force their opponent just one step back. It was a prolonged, brutal affair, one that wore on the mind almost as much as it did on the body.

But this new war was something else entirely.

Splinters showered Mui as a bullet whipped into the tree behind and above him, a mere six inches from taking his life. It was not the first bullet that had struck the wood, which was pockmarked with impacts, and it was not even the closest he had been to death yet.

He paid it no mind. He finished shoving a bullet down the barrel of his Hot Rifle, ripping the loading rod out and throwing the weapon to his shoulder. He spent half a second aligning the sight with the powder-wreathed enemy, then squeezed the trigger.

Sparks flew and the gun flashed, bucking against his shoulder. He was blinded by the smoke, and didn’t know if his shot had hit its target. It barely mattered. He was reloading before his ears had stopped ringing, the taste of blackpowder thick on his tongue as he bit open yet another package.

Gunshots constantly thumped around him, filling the air with acrid smoke. He was with a group of about two hundred Powdered Lead soldiers positioned a few hundred yards to the right of the road they were defending, their backs embedded firmly in the treeline. Frustrated by his constant uselessness, he had found Evie as she and the Powdered Lead prepared to advance, demanding that she allow him to join them in combat.

She’d agreed before he’d begun his second sentence, placing him in her own squad of Irregulars with barely a thought.

In hindsight, it made sense. For all their comparative experience with firearms, all but the most veteran of Powdered Lead mercenaries hadn’t been a soldier for longer than a year. If one judged a soldier’s worth by Level alone, Mui likely would have been counted among the most elite of the mercenary group’s soldiery.

If one judged a soldier’s worth by Level alone, they were a fool.

As he loaded another round, Mui glanced to his right. The Powdered Lead were acting as skirmishers, the shining steel of their bikes decorating the foliage where they had dove into the forest, sheltering behind the thickest trees they could find. They did not flinch as the enemy’s bullets struck all around them, and even those who had suffered minor injuries had not stopped their constant fusillade of musketry. They worked their weapons with mechanical consistency, maintaining a rate of fire that put even the best-trained of the Imperial Army’s musket-wielding troops to shame. Sara and Evie had been preparing for the arrival of enemy firearms from the moment they had given guns to their own soldiers, training them accordingly. Every soldier was sheltering as much of themselves behind cover as was possible, emerging only when their shot was loaded, which they fired off in an instant. To the enemy formation, Mui imagined, it would look as if the forest itself was spitting flame.

Their gunfire was aided by a very peculiar kind of enchantment: that of Sara’s Divine Blessings, which were filling the air with a song so loud it should have deafened him, yet never once inhibited his hearing. He could feel the music thrumming in his chest, could count out its beats intuitively, and without any conscious effort, Mui found himself synchronizing his actions to the rhythm, which he had never once lost track of. It was a peculiar spell, unlike any other he had heard of, but he appreciated it all the same. Even if Sara’s taste in music seemed rather… eclectic. It was a shrieking collection of metallic instruments accompanied by a woman’s harsh, incomprehensible screams.

Appropriate enough for Sara, I suppose.

Mui had ended up at very nearly the end of the line, which should have left him feeling completely exposed, his flank unprotected save for a single soldier. If it weren’t for who that soldier was, Mui would have been constantly paranoid, focusing more of his attention on searching for an ambush than he did on the enemy.

Thankfully, it was Evie at his side.

She was laid out in the dirt, resting on her stomach in a small scuff she had dug out of the soil. She was aiming down the sights of her rifle with one eye, the other tightly closed. Despite being covered head-to-toe in jungle detritus, the shrapnel of enemy gunshots spraying her with a constant barrage of broken foliage, she appeared to be as at ease as a woman laid across a parlor sofa. He watched the tip of her musket bob, digging a little trench in the mud as it tracked some target from left to right. By how slow she was moving, it must have been a very distant target, well beyond the main formation facing the Powdered Lead. He saw her hand tense, one finger slowly tightening on the trigger.

The hammer of her rifle flew forward, crystal tip sparking an explosion.

Her glacial movement evaporated in a blur, her entire body twisting as she rolled to one side and bit open a powder cartridge, throwing it down the barrel of her gun. She moved so fast it was almost alien, difficult to track, and thoroughly intimidating.

When she finished loading the rifle, it was almost as if she had never moved. Her entire body froze, her attention locked on something Mui could not see. It was disturbing, frankly. She reminded him of a coiled snake, so still she could be mistaken for a corpse, waiting to flash into a lethal strike faster than the eye could perceive.

More concerning yet still was what lay on her back. Evie carried her own personal musket there, the enchanted rifle that Hurlish had created for her. It was tied tightly to her as if she had no intention of drawing it, and many parts of it were covered by thick, protective leather. Distinctly not a holster, as the leather was attached to the weapon itself, it seemed to serve little purpose other than to obscure what lay beneath. The firing mechanism was hidden, as well as the cap of the tube beneath the barrel, which was ostensibly there for no reason other than to hold the loading rod. The engravings across its barrel glittered even in the shadows, enchantment light drawing the eye like a moth to flame. He knew Tulian had little in the way of artificers. But he also knew that the more skilled a blacksmith was, the easier it was for their work to be enchanted. The greatest weapons were the synergy between a master smith and a master artificer, their work singing together in a single harmony.

Hurlish had slaved over the weapon for weeks, then given the weapon to University Artificer Tinvel, who was the only artificer in the world with experience enchanting firearms. A part of Mui was desperately curious to see what the weapon looked like when fired. Another part of him prayed that he would never find himself in circumstances so dire Evie felt the need to do so.

“The rebel forces are beginning to ignore us,” Evie announced, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the rattle of gunfire. She pointed with the tip of her gun. “They’re moving to block the road once more. Even if we keep picking them off from here, they have more than enough troops to ignore our stings until the bulk of Borek’s forces arrive.”

“What are we going to do about it, ma’am?” Mui knew she didn’t wish to be addressed in such a way, but he couldn’t help it. He had spent his entire adult life in the army, and deferring to a commanding officer was an instinct too deeply ingrained in him to ignore.

“Give them something they can’t…” Evie trailed off, her focus sharpening. Mui waited patiently. Her rifle barked, then she continued speaking. “We will give them something they can’t ignore. Have you noticed something about those soldiers we are firing at?”

Mui peered at the enemy more closely. They had advanced to within about a hundred yards, closing the disparate range between their muskets and the Powdered Lead’s rifles as fast as they were able, then held there, forming a line of battle three ranks deep.

It was a direct copy of the tactics Sara and Evie had trained the Imperial Army to use. Mui thought there were advantages and disadvantages to it, at least when one was fighting a more traditional opponent. The three-deep line allowed a much wider formation, putting more guns on target at all times, but it was also far more fragile when compared to the five or even ten-deep spearblocks he was better acquainted with. Now that he was facing the wrong side of the gun, he could imagine even more flaws than he once had. The enemy line was thin and fragile, certain to shatter on contact with a proper line of spears, or, even worse, a charge of…

Mui inhaled.

“They do not have spears with them. They sent only musketeers to pin us in the forest.”

Evie’s grin was bestial.

“Powdered Lead!” She roared. “Fix bayonets!”

A cheer went up and down the line. Mui joined the others in pulling the long knife-like weapon from its place on his belt, slipping it into its spot at the end of the barrel.

“Give ‘em lead, give ‘em steel!” Someone hollered to Mui’s right.

“Give ‘em lead, give ‘em steel!” Came the bellowing reply, the entire group of soldiers yelling at the top of their lungs.

“Ma’am?” Mui asked as Evie leapt to her feet, still grinning madly. “If I’m an Irregular by your standards, where do you want me?”

“With me. At least for as long as you can keep up.”

He swallowed hard, nodding. There wasn’t much else to say to an order like that.

The forest rattled with the sound of mercenaries equipping their bayonets, bullets still rippling into the wood they sheltered behind. If he had been asked to guess, Mui would have bet that the enemy had given their muskets to former archers. Their formation seemed to have an instinctive grasp of the importance of volleys, and they had only light armor and simple sidearms, little more than helmets, an open-backed chestplate, and a long knife.

As another volley tore into the trees, dropping a spray of leaves across his shoulders, he wondered just how good an idea this was.

Then his attention turned toward the road, where the bulk of the army, tens of thousands strong, were beginning to position themselves before the road. It would be like the hells brought to life should the Imperial Army be forced to grind their way through a well-prepared defense there. Basic spikes and stockades were already being thrown up there.

The decision to question anything further was taken from him as Evie’s voice rang out once more.

“Charge!”

Mui burst out of the trees just as the echoes of a volley faded from the skies, raising his voice in a cry echoed by the other soldiers around him. The sound of Sara’s song changed as they emerged from the jungle, the strange screeching of metal replaced by simple, rhythmic lyrics.

A hundred yards between them and the enemy. A hundred long, empty yards. How fast could they cover the distance? Ten seconds, fifteen? He didn’t know, and he didn’t dare sprint ahead of the lower-Leveled mercenaries. He tucked his head down and ran, rifle clutched tightly in both hands, the other soldiers running beside him.

They’d been spread far across the woods, but as was the nature of people, the charge saw them clumping together, turning from scattered squads into one massive, screaming wall. He was at the front, following in Evie’s footsteps. He counted ten seconds as they crossed seventy yards, the enemy’s faces growing large and pale. Their line rippled at the sight of charging, heavily-armored mercenaries, but they did not break.

The second line of rebels raised their muskets to a shoulder, finished reloading.

“Give ‘em lead!”

Mui slammed into Evie’s back as the woman dragged herself to a stop, nearly throwing them both to the ground, but she resisted. He bounced off her shoulder, spun around by his own momentum, left dizzy and confused.

The world shattered in a single thunderclap. Bullets whipped past Mui in all directions, volleys crossing past one another as both sides unloaded their weapons at point-blank range.

“Give ‘em STEEL!”

Before Mui could recover his wits, the Powdered Lead was charging through their own powder mist. He caught the barest glimpse of Evie blurring past him, bayoneted rifle lowered to her hips, and then he was up and following after her, swept up in the tide of battle.

They were on the enemy in seconds. The mass volley of rifle shots had devastated the front row of tightly-packed musketeers, leaving the second row recoiling as they reached for knives and daggers. Not one of them had a bayonet.

This was not the systematic, grinding assault of spearmen against spearmen. A loose wave of armored mercenaries washed up on the rebels as a tsunami, bayonets glinting, throats torn ragged by furious screams. Mui was screaming with them, rendered deaf to his own voice by the gunfire. He could see maybe thirty feet in any direction, any further obscured by the mass of tangled soldiers and thick, cloying fog.

He fell upon a woman who had just managed to get her knife unsheathed in time. She tried to knock aside his bayonet, but her weapon bounced uselessly off the wooden stock as Mui’s sprint carried him into her. She wasn’t even wearing a breastplate.

Steel disappeared into her chest, red tip emerging from just off the right side of her spine. His rifle grew heavy as she collapsed, threatening to drag the weapon out of his hands before he twisted the blade and kicked her, tearing her corpse off. Blood spewed from her gaping wound, adding to the thick scent of iron and sulfur in the air.

Someone blew past him on his right, ramming their own bayonet into another rebel’s neck. He saw Evie somewhere in the distance, rapier in one hand, pistol in another.

Mui lunged forward, thrusting for the next target he could see.

It was utter chaos. The jumbled mess of mercenaries had nearly shattered the rebels with their last-second volley, causing some to break, others to charge, and all to be utterly confused.

Mui caught another knife on his rifle and shoved, knocking the man responsible back, then swung the butt of his rifle, cracking him across the cheekbone. There was a sickening crunch as the metal-plated wood broke something deep in the man’s skull. The rebel dropped. Mui stepped over him, raising his rifle to thrust once more.

The two uncoordinated formations had not so much collided as they had merged, soldiers of every sort thrown into a disorderly melee. It became a frothing circle of mindless violence, gunshots still cracking every few seconds as some few individuals managed to find time to reload their weapons.

Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Mui stood over another corpse, mouth hanging open as he panted into the open air. The front half of his rifle was painted crimson, a dozen new chips taken from the wood by rebel blades. Outnumbered two-to-one, but lacking swords or spears, the rebels hadn’t stood a chance.

He looked down at himself, inspecting the parts of his body his armor left exposed. He found no wounds. At least none that were major. He was sure his body would remind him of the nicks and scratches it had collected once the battle was over.

“Commander Evie!” He called, spinning in place. “What are your orders?”

“She’s over here!” Someone yelled.

Mui jogged towards the voice, biting open a powder cartridge as he went. Not knowing what the Powdered Lead had meant by their little mantra, he had charged with his weapon unloaded, a mistake he did not intend to repeat.

He found Evie just as he began ramming the bullet down the barrel. She had two mercenaries to either side of her, while she was sitting on the ground, snapping off orders.

Her hand was cupped over her left thigh, deep, rich blood oozing from between her fingers. He spotted a bottle by her side, drained and discarded.

“Can you see if it worked?” She was asking one of her officers.

“What am I looking for?”

“Any sign of the enemy reacting to our breakout.” She sounded furious, and the officer winced, though they had no reason to. Mui knew she was more enraged at herself for being injured than she was at anyone else. “Are they changing their formation, advancing towards us, anything?”

The officer shaded their eyes as they looked towards the rebel army. Mui followed their gaze, making his own appraisal, and when he saw Evie’s mouth opening to impatiently demand an answer, preempted them.

“They are deploying more musketmen from their rear lines. These are arranged more in the manner you expected, with two ranks of spearmen and three ranks of firearms.”

“How quickly are they maneuvering? Are they soldiers or garrison troops?”

Mui squinted. “...Garrison troops, perhaps,” he said. “Though I can’t be sure. There are enough of them that even veterans may take time to assemble.”

“How many is that?”

Mui made a quick count of the wheeling blocks of troops. “Roughly two thousand.”

“Damnit.” Evie lifted her hand from her thigh for just long enough to wrap a bandage around it, then waved to her soldiers. “Help me up so I can see.”

The two soldiers hooked their arms under Evie’s armpits, hauling her up. She used one hand to keep pressure applied to her wound, taking care not to put any weight on it while the potion worked its way through her system.

After a moment of surveying, Evie grinned. “Good work, Powdered Lead!” She called out. “We got their attention! Now we just have to survive it! Second, fourth, and sixth squads, go retrieve our bikes! Carry two to a man, and do it fast!”

The body-littered battlefield broke up into an even worse patchwork as the squads took off, leaving large gaps in the lines. Without Evie needing to order it, the sergeants began shouting at their squads to close up the holes, presenting the encroaching enemy with a uniform line once more.

“Are we taking prisoners?” Mui asked. The Powdered Lead mercenaries were walking over the dead and dying. Many of them looked like they could survive if given appropriate treatment.

“No time,” she said. “Now, get ready. I’m sure we’ll be discovering what those spearmen are a distraction for in a minute.”

Mui’s eyes widened. Two thousand troops bearing down on two hundred was hardly something he thought of as a mere “distraction.”

“Form lines, form lines! The moment the bikes arrive, get ready to ride!” Evie yelled. She set her left foot down, testing how it held her weight. She didn’t flinch, and began to stand more evenly. “Give them shot until they begin returning fire, then we’re moving towards the walls! Ride slow and close, and be ready to stop when I call for it!”

The orders given, Mui joined the others in firing at the encroaching enemy. They didn’t bother to fire in volleys, instead firing the instant a round was loaded. Rebel infantry began to fall in piecemeal fashion, sparks flying as lead bullets pierced steel armor, but it wasn’t enough. The Powdered Lead were a tenth the number of their opponents, and though they fired fast, it certainly wasn’t ten times as fast. The enemy would not break before their shorter-ranged muskets could begin to return fire, and when they did, it would be in volleys of nigh-apocalyptic proportions.

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