Chapter CLXXXV – Those who humble themselves will be marching.

67th of Summer 5860
Outskirts of Ancoire, Hallow Duchy of Ancoire

The forests and mountains of southern Gemeinplatz slowly disappeared, as if a careful barber had shaved them off during the making of the realm, to give way to the steppe and flatland of northwestern Gemeinplatz. The late summer brought out the hottest days in Ancoire, which certainly were not pleasant to march under. Especially under the countless layers of linen, cotton, and whatever else that made a gambeson.

The march had been slow, with several breaks to refresh water and make sure the men were rested enough to fight. Nobody knew when the enemy would come, so, it seemed a sound idea to keep up enough energy to fight anytime.

“It has been awfully quiet” remarked a certain John Brown, who was riding a horse at the tip of the long, snaking column of troops marching on the highway.

“Not surprising, it’s the middle of summer, old man” replied Ayomide, accompanying him at the side. “It’s the perfect time for rest after the harvest.”

Brown shook his head “No, not that kind of quiet, young lady. I mean troop movements. The local lords did what they could to gather their forces against us, constantly until their ruin. Our Republic is clearly seen as a threat to their rule, and in all fairness, we are an existential threat to them. Ancoire must still be exhausted after their devastating defeat in that battle, but the Empire itself should have sent some forces over to stop us by now. Something to probe our capabilities at the least, even if they are too busy with internal discontent to mobilize a campaign against us.”

Ayomide shrugged “Maybe they’re just stupid?”

Brown was about to object, though he could only manage a moment of silence to think of what Ayomide suggested. “Maybe, young lady, though I’d rather use the word ‘incompetent’ in that case. Even then, it’s better to overestimate an enemy and prepare for the worst rather than underestimate them.”

With that, the summer heat forced them back to silence. Nobody was in much of a chatty mood under the scorching sun. The silent march continued until the concrete walls of the monastery began appearing in the distance, climbing up from the horizon like gray obelisks. It was to be today’s spot to set up camp, circumstances willing.

“I see… that the walls are not doing well, old man. There’s a real big breach on the direction of the road. I also see a black flag which has been hoisted on a pole. Too far away to make out any people if there are any.”

“Considering the state of the walls, the circumstances do not look too willing, young lady.” John Brown was once again thankfully for the existence of catgirls and their sharp eyesight. “Let us proceed with caution. It is likely that the residents of the monastery did not manage to resist until our arrival. Get the men into formation.”

With Brown’s order, the army stirred into action… slowly, as it is the case with such large groups of people. A message from Ayomide rushing on horseback to other officers, followed by a trickle of aides reporting to-and-fro of the status of their regiments. The 1st Ranger Regiment, being the one fully armed with muskets, arranged itself into firing lines 3-ranks deep while the rest of the infantry regiments formed squares. Their musketeers were at the front of the line, backed up by the pike-wielding infantry that the musketeers would retreat to in case of an attack. The cavalry units situated themselves at the flanks of the entire line. The National Guard units stayed behind the main combat line, in various formations of various quality stemming from their decentralized, local training. Ideally, they wouldn’t have to enter combat; their duty was to protect themselves and survive to continue aiding the main army. Most of the camp followers were armed as well, though they obviously wouldn’t engage for long in combat if they were forced into it.

Their preparations complete, the army began cautiously marching forward towards the monastery once more. As the walls came closer, it became clear that there were men on it. Emphasis on men, not the sisters. Men who were clad in black. “Old man, they don’t look too friendly.”

“They most likely are not, no.” Other than the one man in front of the wall, Brown couldn’t see anyone else. “There are most likely others. ‘How many’ is the problem, young lady.”

“They can’t have possibly stuffed much men inside a monastery of all places.” From a glance, the monastery didn’t look anywhere near as big as a fortress or a town to Ayomide.

“Indeed. If they did, they’d have a good reason to station men here.”

“A good reason, like having set a trap somehow. Can’t we just leave the monastery alone and get to Ancoire?”

“No, the sisters requested our help. If they are alive in there, then it is our duty as good men to save them. Not to mention that it isn’t a good idea to leave an enemy force behind your lines, especially fortified ones, young lady.”

Ayomide would rather not have to deal with the women of the cloth who considered them to be devils, but she also would rather not deal with enemies on her tail. “Are we assaulting the monastery then?”

“Yes. Considering we have not had any word from the enemy side, I don’t believe they are willing to parlay. Let’s get the National Guard ready to clear that breech, there doesn’t seem to be anybody shooting at us from the wall.”

Another round of aides later, the National Guard was approaching with shovels, pickaxes and explosives to make the passage of the army easier through the pile of rubble. The first to go in would be the 1st Ranger Regiment, the most elite to lead the charge, so they got into position near the breach.

The preparations were suddenly cut off by several explosions from behind the walls, followed up by streams of smoke first descending up and then down in an arc towards the army. Yes, a stream of smoke, in an arc, a sight rarely seen. For a moment everybody stood and watched in awe, the briefest moment only broken up by the realization that the smoke in question is most likely some sort of attack. Then it devolved into people next to the wall shouting while retreating in a disorganized wave, afraid of what the mysterious smoke would do.

Brown stood firm against the smoke, guessing that it must be some sort of smokescreen. It was true that it acted against a smokescreen, but it had another effect – that of burning his lungs and eyes the moment the smoke came in contact with him. His horse proved restless against the chemical attack too, and Brown threw himself on the ground before the horse would do so less gracefully.

The few people who remained near the smoke were crying for help, while Brown was the only calm one amongst them. Not that it didn’t hurt, it very much did, but Brown was one determined man. After realizing that he wasn’t dying just yet, he managed to defy every base instinct and open his teary eyes.

Men. Men in the smoke, looking like shapeless shadows in black, coming out from what should be the direction of the breech. They didn’t charge to attack, rather, they disappeared back out into the smoke once they were out of the breach. Brown drew his weapon, a flintlock pistol of the Republic, and shot at one of them. It seemed to have landed as the shadow collapsed with a bloodcurdling scream.

Whatever happened would have to be revealed once the smoke dissipated. For now, all was white…