Chapter 115: In the name of no one
The night camp was agitated by the weeping of citizens who turned into soldiers in the last two months. None of them wanted to be here and this was not an army at all. Jäwell didn't care about the politics, yet, he learned while discussing with the men around that the main power in place suddenly increased the taxes for the people from the region named Cardanic that he already heard about had been completely crushed.
In a week, armies walked over the land and ravaged the villages. Taking control of the industry, burning the farms, and even deviating the principal source of water. People left their possessions and became refugees, sheltering in the region of Rosebud. These people lost everything in no time. There was very little to do, yet, some men and even fewer women found bravery to resist. They mounted a group of fighters that could not even be called an army or descent soldiers.
They walked from their land to the border of their territories, two hundred kilometers from the main city of Rosebud, they had the plan to intercept the groups of soldiers before they joined the main force already in place. With the time, and without resources, they were hoping that the soldiers occupying their homes would have to surrender and leave.
This, of course, was one of the worst plans Jäwell ever heard, but surprisingly, he loved it. A desperate group of people trying to fight an overpowered army and having a stupid narcissistic leader to guide them. His smile could not grow bigger, this was exactly what he wanted. Jäwell had more or less ten years before Dante would come back to pick him up and force him to return to the throne of the Ombrae and he intended to make the most of the situation.
A young man came to him in the morning, the boy was terrified by the situation and it showed in his eyes. He trembled as he spoke to Jäwell, "I don't want to die."
It was clear that the boy was hoping for some reassurance from an elder, Jäwell was looking like a professional, a high-quality mercenary, and many people regained hope just by seeing him, but instead of a kind word he just laughed at the face of the young one and said mockingly, "Nobody wants."
The other people around were stunned. Jäwell had no intention to win the battle, to fight their cause, or to even help them. They slowly were understanding that the man who joined them was a completely selfish asshole who was here for fun. The group was made of civilians, they didn't understand the idea of such a character and many were in denial, but they were about to find out very soon.
In the first lights of the fourth day, an armed group engaged on the path. The leader, Alaric, tried to organize what he called his glorious army. The man saw himself and these pathetic men in arms as a real empire. Jäwell was barely paying attention to them, so he decided to follow their plan for now, at least until he got bored to obey another man.
He wanted a rest from the leadership after all.
Jäwell tried very hard to be a regular soldier once again. He took his weapons and followed the orders, aligning in the middle of the path to block the enemy. He looked at Alaric hiding behind three lines of trembling men and women. Most of them didn't know how to hold a sword properly. The ruler still tried to show off authority and dominance. His voice was strong and assured. Jäwell laughed, telling himself, "You can speak as much as you want from your damn horse, your strategy is shit."
As he didn't care what he was saying loudly, the men around heard him. One of them had a spear, he looked at Jäwell with panic, "How much shit? What do you mean?"
"We are exposed, the group in front of us has horses and we are on foot. We are at our worst advantage now, even if we win because we have the advantage of the number on this one, they will charge us and we will lose an incredible amount of men to stop them."
"What would you do?" Another one asked, listening carefully to the words of this unknown veteran.
Jäwell pointed at the cliffs, "I would set archers on the rocks, of course. Then I would send a little group on the other side to take them behind. It may not reduce the first charge but it allows us to kill them faster and save more of our men."
"How many men would you send?" A huge man with a massive hammer asked in a strong powerful voice.
Jäwell looked around and scratched his head with one finger, "I would say… Ten, judging our power, ten good men would probably be enough."
"Let's do this. Lead us."
Jäwell stopped himself as he realized he was making a strategy and fighters were listening to him. Once again, he had taken the lead. He sighed desperately, "No, no, no, I am on holiday."
But the young one grabbed his sleeve with a pleading look that he could not ignore. Jäwell growled, "Fine… I hate puppy eyes, stop this."
In no time, the massive man gathered seven strong fighters. They were solid men, not afraid of blood. Most of them had scars and they had already spilled blood many times. They didn't know how to manage a sword well, but it wasn't necessary. They knew how to smash a skull and that was more than enough for Jäwell to do something with them.
Together, they quickly sneaked from the lines where they were initially affected by Alaric and went to hide in the rocks, crawling to not be spotted by any of the camps, the path was a natural canal surrounded by large rocks and little cliffs. Jäwell had identified a perfect spot to hide the arrival of the enemy's line. The soldiers didn't see anything, knowing the strategic competencies of Alaric, they didn't imagine one second that there could be any solid plan in front of them, and once engulfed in the canal, they charged without thinking much.
When the first horse started to gallop, Jäwell was the first one of the group to jump from his perch. He smashed a soldier directly on the head with his two feet joined, then caught himself on the saddle of the horse running and took control of it.
He could not stop himself from yelling in joy, feeling the thrill of the battle. This move was risky, if he had failed to land on the horse he could have died and this was the most exciting feeling he had in the last two hundred years, and now, he was simply screaming his excitement like a madman. The other men of the little group were looking at him stunned. They understood how irresponsible this man was, yet, one after the other, they followed his moves and imitated him. Pushed by the adrenaline, they all managed to steal a horse and kill the soldier originally on it.
The seven riders galloped into the group of soldiers charging, yelling to give them courage. They swung their swords around them, praying to every god they could believe in to touch something and make a difference.
Jäwell was leading the way, striking the soldiers of the army one-on-one by ravaging their backs. Pieces of armor were flying around him and his joy was carrying the hope of the men following his tracks.
On the other side, Alaric saw the scene in shock. He didn't know how to react in front of such disrespect. This traveler doing whatever he wanted without even informing him was not flattering his ego, and the reaction of the men under his command who were in awe as Jäwell prowesses followed closely by their companion was just making Alaric a bit more jealous every minute passing.
When half of the group of soldiers was already dead or dying, the front men stopped their charge to face Jäwell and the seven, this was the moment Alaric gave the order to the few archers he had to target the remaining men.
Most of them never used a bow before this campaign. They were slow and not efficient, but after the first volley of arrows, the Captain in charge of the assault dropped his weapon and raised his hands.
Jäwell pushed his horse at his level, he stood up on both feet on his saddle, took his long dark sword, and laughed maniacally as he beheaded the man in front of everyone. The surviving soldiers tried to escape, caught up by the riders, and executed quickly.
In the end, none of the soldiers on horses had the time to charge the men on foot. The screams ceased, and there were only the dead bodies on the floor, turning the dust into stinky mud. Jäwell was standing in the middle of the path, his smile was large and his black eyes were covered by his sweaty hair glued to his forehead.
His chest was rising heavily and he was panting. The seven riders came around him and raised their weapons, this gesture was followed by the cheers of the men on the floor and the archers.
Everyone was overjoyed and full of hope, everyone except Alaric who saw the real menace Jäwell was. The leader knew this man was not a man, he could feel the part of darkness in Jäwell even if he was technically a human, and he knew that if his army would follow him, they would all be dead at the end of the conflict. Everyone saw here the easy victory it had been, but only the sevens and Alaric saw how risky it had been in reality.
Alaric swallowed as he read on the lips of Jäwell the word, "More," and a cold terrifying chill ran through his spine.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone