Chapter CXLVI – Whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him in twain.

47th of Spring 5860
Karabush, State of Karabush

Mayor Gabriel Satō-Wang of Bolipoli.

The man. The myth. The third cousin of Count Leon Satō-Wang. “These savages sure are contentious.”

Ted.

The servant, who last appeared about a hundred chapters ago. He comes back, having escaped the demise of his lord, and found employ with his cousin. “They’ve led to the demise of at least two of your family members, sir.”

“All from them trying to reclaim and hold on to that accursed county…” They were in a tent, in the siege camp right outside of Karabush. Surrounded by countless men, countless warriors, countless fools trying to do what his two cousins tried to do.

“Do you think it will go any different, sir?” asked Ted seemingly innocently.

“We have twenty thousand men in this camp, and yet…” His eyes were on the walls. They were still standing of course; the fugitives had been quick to meet each cannonball with a repaired wall.

“…and yet?”

Gabriel would have smashed his fist on a table to make a point, but all he could do was pound the earth with his boot. “And yet, that’s what all my cousins thought too! I’m not going to even start pretending like I have confidence that things will go well. I’m here just because the guys outside wanted somebody with a claim to Casamonu. No sane man would risk their life just for that stupid border county!”

“O-of course, nobody would risk their life for that stupid place.” Ted laughed, having casually disrespected all his previous masters.

“Yet they did.” Gabriel shook his head. He shook it again, and again, each time shaking faster. “Now we’re about to do the same thing, again.”

“I’m sure it will go well sir.”

Gabriel could only sarcastically reply, “I’m sure it will, Ted.”

48th of Spring 5860
The forest around Periligoul, March of Zon’guldac

The forests of Zon’guldac. Thick, dense, green, and full of “elves!”

The Army of the Republic, having to march in a long column to even fit into the narrow path that cut through the forest, was always overextended. The musketeers of the 1st Ranger Regiment formed up wherever they could, while the pikemen formed around them. It was far from an organized military formation, in fact there were dozens upon dozens of tiny little ad hoc formations that had been formed by men huddling up to whichever column was closes to them.

The sound of hooves pounding the earth got closer and closer. Nobody could tell where and how much with all the trees blocking them. They were getting closer, and closer, but where? When?

“Argh!” One lone pikeman suddenly found himself skewered at the end of a cavalryman’s spear. A few more followed, as the horses charged across the narrow path. Muskets were raised, then fired without any command and coordination, but the elves had already ridden back into the forest and disappeared.

The road which should have taken two days at most had dragged on to the third day, as the Army of the Republic was constantly forced to a stop by the elven guerillas.

Finally, Brown saw an opening in the forest. A lake, surrounded by tree houses. Not much of a city, town, or even a village by human standards. It had no walls, no way of defending itself outside of the houses being elevated. There were no people walking on the streets, no life. “Halt!” The officers relayed Brown’s orders, and the entire army halted.

“What’s wrong, old man?” Ayomide rode up to him, clearly annoyed at having been stopped at the gates of the enemy.

“I think they’ve taken a page out of our playbook.” He didn’t see any wires, rope, or any other thing indicating a trap. But… “…even if they haven’t trapped this place, they’ve already done a good job at whittling down our forces. Trying to hold on to an empty settlement would be useless.”

“It… definitely would be useless.” Ayomide really wanted to burn the place down in revenge, but she knew very well how the old man was a stickler about “honorable warfare”. “What do we do now?”

“Simple, we don’t enter Periligoul. We navigate around its perimeter, and then continue our way to Bolipoli. It’s clear that the elves do not wish to join our Republic, and so we won’t force them.”

So, the Army of the Republic pivoted back on the road, continuing its arduous march.

48th of Spring 5860
Periligoul, March of Zon’guldac

Periligoul was back alive, it’s streets filled with the usual elven folk once more. The only sign that an army had just marched through were the foot and hoofprints on the road.

Chieftainess Tinatin Leafblower was laughing back to her throne room, attended by her myriad retainers. She regretted having built her palace so high up a tree, but it also provided such a good view that climbing all the stairs was worth it. Sitting on a throne all day made a good and entertaining view necessary to stay sane.

“They didn’t even… did they think I trapped the place or something? That wasn’t even my plan!” The entire village had hidden on top of the surrounding forest, perched on top of trees. They had watched the army leave the town intact. “Be a man at least and loot the place, for gods’ sake. We have plenty worth looting here, don’t we?” She turned to her servants around her. They nodded in unison. “There must be something wrong in the heads of these savages, I swear.”

Tinatin took her seat, in the relatively modest wooden throne. All elven furniture was wooden and copper in fact, so it looked quite modest compared to everything else in Gemeinplatz. She stared out into the field, the field where four thousand men had just passed and left without harming even a branch on their trees.

“My lady, what do you wish us to do?” asked a servant.

“It’s quite warm, fan me” Tinatin took time to enjoy the cool breeze, before continuing “and, keep your eye on these Imperials and ‘Republic’ people. I might have to reconsider my position depending on how those two tussle…”

“…oh, and get me some fruit. I’m starving here.”