Tarnobrzeg

A burning sweet rot sunk heavily along the road. Corpse pyres released high flames in summer fields prematurely harvested. Acrid smoke punched the nostrils wherever it concentrated. The soldiers suppressed their gag reflexes.

Flat horse-drawn carts, improvised to carry the wounded, held men side-by-side with no space for stretching. Short bars kept them falling over the sides or slipping out the back. Thick black straps held them against stained sheets.

A corpse brigade cart piled with uniformed bodies passed them on its way to the pyres. A hand reaching from the pile twitched.

Roxanne reached for her ax as she recoiled against Frederika, who patted her hair to help calm her.

“There, there. They did their best.”

But Roxanne couldn’t relax until the cart of corpses was far behind them, and the stench of burning flesh less powerful as the river carried it away.

“Absolutely not!” came Brunswick’s commanding voice from the carriage, which now had a red lace rope tying the damaged door.

“They’re injured. I must comfort them!”

“You are not a medic! You do not have a medical affinity!”

Adam tossed a stone at the carriage, loud enough to startle the occupants, “Could you keep it down in there! We can hear you from here!”

The noise from the carriage faded enough so the conversation couldn’t be understood. Kurl glanced at Adam, disappointed, “That was valuable intelligence you cost me because you got annoyed.”

The Vistula bubbled in front of high sandstone walls discolored from age. Billowing brick chimneys stretched over their height. The smoke reminded Kurl of newly built Berlin factories he’d seen during his early training.

The carts rolled onto a wide stone bride with rounded arches. The horses continued across at a lazy trot. The carriage stopped at thick wood gates with iron lattice work, held closed.

While Brunswick dealt with the guard, Kurl looked down the walls stretching alongside the river. They encompassed massive stone works. Thankfully, the scent of processed brimstone overcame the odor of burning corpses.

Paperwork passed to the gate controller.

“I’m Lieutenant Brunswick of the 1115th Imperial Elite Mage Squad. We’ve been assigned set up our headquarters at the old brimstone guild hall.”

“Let me check with the captain. We’ve been dealing with spies of all sorts and what not. Let me make sure you’re on the list. Give us a minute, aight?”

“You have a minute.”

While he waited, Kurl still surveyed the walls. It lowered to a buffer slightly up river, where the warehouse districts filled with rectangular timber structures. Clay and painted wood tile roofs filled the skyline. More imposing warehouses closer to the mines were built of red brick or quarry stone. A hole in the slate roof peeking from the wall exposed steel superstructure.

The bridge wall was a structure all its own. Three crenulated outposts at the top held cannon emplacements. Imperial garrison troops stared across the terrain. Down river, besides a few outposts and gun slots, the thin wall was lightly defended.

This wasn’t the side that mattered, because it wasn’t facing the eastern front. Other fortifications stood down river, though the largest were on the western bank. Even further, behind the fortifications, Kurl recognized the compost mounds where the town’s waste became nitrate and fertilizer.

The gate officer returned, “Okay, you’re cleared to go through. Open the gate!”

Thick wooden doors rumbled apart as they retreated into slits. The main boulevard of Tarnobrzeg opened before them. The carriage driver loosened the reigns followed by a flicker of movement, and the convey rumbled forward.

The stalls of the market road nearest the gate were filled with stale breads and old cheeses. Withered venison and beef jerkies, well-aged, hung from overhangs. Lines formed at the bread stalls. Old women, bandaged conscripts in uniform, children, mine workers dressed in blackened sooty rags waited to buy rations. Behind them, a premium bakery wafted the scent of fresh bread from a cleaned stucco facade.

Roxanne salivated as they passed it. She glared at a woman adorned in furs and jewelry exiting with a loaded bag.

As the convoy rolled further from the river gate, the stalls remained, but the good became sparse. Most sat unutilized as wooden facades with torn curtains. Occasionally, elders sat on worn wooden benches selling trinkets no better than recovered trash.

Bloody carts parked about the town clinic. The windows were open. Wounded lay along the walking paths on makeshift stretchers. Rubbish boxes overflowed with soiled bandages. Bloody rags were strewn over the street. A cart collecting the overflowing sewage from the cesspool smelled foul. Rats scurried along the edges of the buildings. Flies buzzed brazenly in a swarm about the waste cart.

Steam billowed from the compacted dirt roads. Weeds dripping dew overgrew the side of an abandoned building with a crumbling stucco façade. A mustached man in a worn suit wore a bowler hat with a shredded rim. He hailed the convoy and showed them where to park the wagons. The carriage pulled closest to the door.

Adam jumped out of the carriage before he was invited to and stretched his back to give it a good crack, “I really needed to stretch. This is the closest I’ve been to actual civilization in five years.”

Kurl hopped down next to him, “I think we’re supposed to wait for the carriage to empty.”

Roxanne daintily exited the back of the cart with Frederika’s help.

“You’re moving more deliberately,” Adam laughed.

“It’s not my dress. I have to keep it as nice as I possibly can.”

“You can get it dirty,” Frederika bowed humbly, her own dress in shreds below the waist as her bare feet stretched on a patch of cobblestone rising from the caked dirt, “I don’t mind at all if it’s you.”

Brunswick exited the carriage, “Ah, Major General Stanislau. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise old friend!” said the man in the frayed hat, his large mustache twitching, “Let’s get you inside.”

The maids exited the carriage one by one, with Vanessa following the others. She stood scowling, “The stink of this place is something atrocious.”

Father Tergeist stumbled out while Jessica and Susana nodded in agreement.

“And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” the general asked.

“This is my cleaning crew. They’re also quite battle capable. They’ll be staying at my temporary headquarters as my personal staff.”

“And this one?” he gestured to Frederika.

“I’ve decided she’ll be more useful assisting the main squad at the front.”

Frederika gulped, then glanced at Roxanne, she levitated her chain so that it hung across her shoulders like a boa and floated plates to her hand, “Actually, I consider it an honor.”

“Will they be sent off now?”

“Shortly. One had to change her gear. We had no time to wash it. Once it is washed and properly dried, I want her equipped. Then we can send them along to their camp.

While the men spoke, Adam manipulated various stones onto ledges, rooftops, and windowsills with his mana. He tried to do so discretely, even Kurl didn’t seem to notice. But then Brunswick snapped.

“You’re not authorized to use mana in town!”

Adam froze. A stone dropped on his head and bounced off, “Can I-”

Kurl elbow jammed against his arm.

“Permission to use my affinity sir. If anyone attacks. I want a pre-existing line of fire.”

“You’re going to be here for five hours. Eat breakfast, take a nap, and prepare for a short briefing.”

“Fine, sir,” he grumbled while making a mental note of every loose stone he could fire easily without breaking infrastructure.

“Good, let’s get inside. Commander, station five of your men to watch the perimeter and bring the rest inside. Unfortunately, we’ll need to requisition some furnishings for their rooms. But for tonight, we have bedrolls.”

Adam whispered to Kurl, “This town is walled for a reason. We might have to defend it. If I’m alive, I want to have some projectiles I can find quickly.”

“Don’t be obvious about it. And don’t use affinity movement. You’re still a prisoner. Don’t forget it.”