10 - With Chaos Comes Freedom

Teion led the team of Foresters into the enemy camp through a weakness in the palisade, walking barefoot so as not to create unnecessarily loud sounds. There was distant chatter, and the light from the torches in the camp occasionally reflected off their faces, but otherwise, nothing. The Forester area was deathly quiet, lacking a sense of livelihood of any community. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of their own people, were silently rounded up awaiting their fate.

It was almost unnerving how obedient they were.

‘How did they even gather so many troops in one place?’ Teion muttered, clenching his fists so as not to let his arms tremble.

‘What’s the plan?’ a Forester whispered to Teion. Elethien had simply told them to infiltrate the camp and somehow attack the enemy. They didn’t know how many Trelvenese soldiers were there, how well-equipped they were, not even if they were mostly asleep at this point in time. Their only hope lay in the incompetence of the enemy, that they’d not expect a surprise attack from their end.

Simply put, they were not given any plan.

‘... Teion?’ The team all looked at him nervously. If Teion faltered, then the entire team might as well be finished.

‘We spread out and go around finding objects that can create a ruckus,’ Teion finally said. ‘It’s unlikely our cover will be blown, at least in this area, but be careful.’

He could only hope whatever Elethien had in mind, he would be able to execute with this rough plan.

With that, the team went out, looking for pots, utensils, drums, or just metal scraps available for use. Some went for the torches, but soon backed out as soon as they realised that was where the sentries were placed.

The scenery felt very familiar, although on a far larger scale. Tents were packed next to each other in close proximity. Weapons of various sizes and conditions leaned on the side of tents, pots and other larger containers were placed outside in neat piles, and fires made from twigs and branches crackled as they slowly burned away. Large Trelvenese flags flew high above the camp, their blue hue intimidating and cold. The ground was mostly barren, the grass trampled multiple times by many sandals and boots.

Just weeks ago, Teion was one of them, thankful for another day, eating whatever rations were given, and then catching a bit of rest in the tents before the next. He didn’t think of rebellion. There was no energy to think of such lofty things. It was a purposeless life, a life dictated by battle and survival.

If not for Elethien’s calling and a miraculous display of magic, he’d likely be in this camp, wearily carrying his battleaxe around until he drew his last breath, becoming a corpse in some unknown grave.

Such simple-minded animals they all once were.

Teion couldn’t really see any Forester. Sure, there were sentries on the observation towers dotted across the camp, but those were Trelvenese soldiers, their eyes more interested in the tents below than the empty plains beyond the camp. For an organised unit, it was almost unfathomable that nearly every single Forester in the camp was asleep, not a single one of them standing guard outside in rotation.

Out of curiosity, he snuck into a tent. The air felt heavy and damp with heat and the smell of sweat. Inside were a squad of ten Foresters packed tightly together, their tall but pale, thin bodies stretched across the width of the tent. Some were snoring, some were mumbling, some were loudly swallowing saliva to simulate the sensation of food. There were men and women, but all were sleeping in their underwear, exposing much skin in order to keep their bodies cool to some degree, their outerwear and minimal armour left to a corner.

Taking a single shoulder plate, he slowly crept out of the tent… only for his large axe, strapped onto his back, to loudly slap a tent pole, a solid thud shuddering the entire tent itself.

A young man sat up straight in alert, his eyes groggily looking in the direction of Teion. The man’s hair was clearly uncleaned for days yet there wasn’t a single trace of a beard on his face, instead having various cut marks on the chin. Even in the darkness, Teion could make out the traces of ribs underneath the man’s skin, the arms thin like those twigs in the fireplaces.

This wasn’t the appearance of a soldier. To Teion, he was staring at a frightened prisoner, anxious at any obvious sound.

‘W-What do you want?’ the man panicked. ‘Where are we going now?’

‘Relax,’ Teion whispered, pointing to his face. ‘Look at my eyes. I’m a Forester.’

‘... I don’t recognise you,’ the man commented, calming down a little. ‘You look way too well fed.’

Teion quickly glanced at himself. Even though his arms and legs were particularly well-built for a Forester, it wasn’t as if he was big. If anything, he needed some grub right now to quell the protesting from his stomach.

‘You’re not part of us, are you?’ the man added. ‘It’s night. We should all be sleeping per orders, but here you are with your weapon and gear strapped behind your back.’

‘... No, I’m not,’ Teion admitted. ‘But shouldn’t there be at least one person to stand guard in front of the tent every night?’

‘Not for these few nights since we all got gathered here. Are you part of the reinforcements? Where are your companions?’

‘Well, I…’ Teion stumbled on his words. He couldn’t really think of some proper excuse, especially since he hadn’t expected to be discovered this quickly. He wasn’t even sure if the Foresters here knew of the rebellion.

‘Well?’ the man pressed further.

‘U-Uh…’ There was only one tactic left: run.

‘Hey, wait!’

Teion rushed out of the tent, tripping over a large metal pot, the metal clattering against his leg. Many other Foresters were woken up by the noise, a few quickly scurrying out like rats to see what was going on.

‘Hey! Get back to your tent!’ a sentry shouted from the nearby tower.

There was nowhere to hide, really. He hadn’t even scouted out the area properly yet. Including him, there were nineteen of them amongst a camp in the tens of thousands. He couldn’t run towards the gates as they were likely heavily guarded. He couldn’t just blend in with everyone else; he was far too ‘well-fed’ compared to those malnourished Foresters who probably hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

The only option left was to cause as much noise as possible per his ‘plan’ before, only in a far more chaotic fashion.

He kicked away pots and gear as he ran, inciting shouts of rage from all around him. Taking out his axe, he began wildly swinging at the tents, cutting down tent poles leading to the collapse of entire structures. More and more Foresters appeared from their tents, rudely awakened from their slumber. Even the rest of the rebels, originally just sneaking around the camp, joined in to blend with the others, waving and screaming at Teion.

‘Stop! Stop!’ the sentries cried out. Hundreds of Foresters were now pouring out from their quarters, confused and disorganised, wandering aimlessly about or just joining the crowd’s shouting as if uttering a war cry.

‘Get back in your tents!’ A few sentries were holding their crossbows, nervously aiming at the crowds below, not sure who to aim for. ‘Get back or we’ll fire!’

Just then, a Forester accidentally knocked over a torch. The basket of fire fell to the ground, immediately setting a poor Forester on fire. At the sight of flames, confusion quickly became fear, Foresters running away from each other, some shooting energy beams at the fire in a panic only to make it split apart, creating more sparks and flames.

Teion rushed to the nearest sentry post and swung his axe. Despite not swinging with nearly as much strength as the attack on the fortress town before, he effortlessly hacked through a wooden beam. The entire structure shuddered and creaked, not enough to topple, but was enough to drive the soldiers above into a panic.

One of them shot an arrow into the crowd. A Forester collapsed, and for a moment, everyone fell silent.

‘He’s dead,’ someone said.

Then everything went out of control.

Death was something common to them all. It was normal seeing their companions die to enemy fire. But being killed deliberately by ‘friendly’ fire? By soldiers who played no role but to send them to their deaths time and time again without a shred of remorse?

Years, decades of rage burst at that moment. The fragile obedience the Foresters had towards their employers were completely shattered, fuelled by the chaos of the darkness and the confusion of their collective consciousness. Many fired energy beams from their palms at the sentry towers, and those that managed to grab their weapons began hacking at the towers themselves.

The flames of rebellion had quickly taken root in their hearts.

‘FUCK THIS ALL!’ a Forester shouted as she quickly climbed up a wobbling sentry tower, grabbed one of the sentries, and threw him off the tower. As soon as the soldier fell to the ground, the crowd piled and skewered him with their weapons, tearing his limbs apart like barbarians, taking pieces of the soldier like trophies.

She was a member of Teion’s team. Eiah. That was her name. Usually a companion who fought silently and never made much noise, she was consumed by an unexplainable rage, her actions entirely different from her usual self.

It was like she was possessed.

‘ALL HAIL THE KINGDOM—’ Eiah shouted in ecstasy, only for a spear to pierce her torso from behind. The second sentry on the tower threw her down as she did to his comrade. Yet unlike the first soldier, the Foresters caught the woman softly and laid her down on the ground.

Teion quickly rushed to the scene, dropping his axe on the ground.

‘Eiah, Eiah!’ he shouted, pressing her wound from the side in an effort to halt the bleeding. ‘What’s gone into you?’

Her eyes were rapidly dimming, but Teion could still see an unnatural red spark inside the pupils.

‘The blessing of Fate… be with us all.’ Her voice felt fake, fading until her life was sapped away. It sounded a little like Elethien, even.

Just like that, another soul was extinguished.

The gates connecting the Forester area of the camp to the Trelvenese area opened. Columns of soldiers rushed in with relative disorganisation, their formations rather loose. Mostly made up of reserves, this was the best the encamped army could do at short notice, their general far away on some quest in the forests.

‘The Foresters have rebelled!’ a commander cried out. He was only partially armoured, the plating hastily strapped onto his body. ‘Leave no one alive!’

Teion rose from Eiah’s corpse, picking back up his axe before he faced the incoming enemy.

‘ALL HAIL THE KINGDOM OF FORESTERS!’ he roared.

The two sides descended into a mad brawl. There were no tactics, no strategy, no command able to control the outcome of the battle. Energy blasts and arrows flew across the air, swords and spears clashed against each other, both sides clearly not prepared enough to hold a proper battle. With enough preparation, the Foresters could’ve easily formed basic formations even without command and while severely malnourished. The Trelvenese could’ve organised themselves and steadily marched upon the rebellion. Yet in all the confusion, there was no proper leadership, only men and women shouting at each other and waving their weapons, grunting before death fell swiftly upon them all.

All because Teion had tripped on a pot.

Teion swung his axe, removing a soldier’s head from his body. Perhaps this was what Elethien wanted of him. To cause chaos. Whether intentionally or not, the chaos was now formed. He glanced at his side. The Foresters were still skinny as ever, but they were fighting with increased vigour. Their movements were harsh, their throats stretched to their limits, their eyes were sparkling with passion and rage.

All of them had no choice but to fight or flee in the face of apparent betrayal from the Trelvenese.

Still, they were heavily outnumbered. Without a proper leader, they were picked off and killed one by one, the fire from the collapsed torches serving as their pyre. Meanwhile, the enemy had at least a commander in charge, dishing out orders from horseback, directing his troops with his best efforts.

Teion found his target.

‘Take the commander’s head!’ He charged, cutting down several soldiers around him like a farmer reaping crops. There would be no mercy until he reached his goal.

With a leap, he raised his axe towards the Trelvense commander. There was nothing to defend.

The commander fell off his horse, his waist hacked to the spine. Climbing and standing atop the horse, Teion had now a temporary vantage position. And with that position, came power and control.

He could see the blurred lines of battle more clearly now. In the tight quarters of the camp, melee weapons were king. In addition to the clear numerical disadvantage, the Foresters’ energy beams were practically useless unless they hit their fellow companions as well, with only strengthening magic practically available for use. Bodies stepped over bodies, fighting to the death atop the corpses of another with no rhythm or reason. Those from Teion’s team were also dropping dead, unable to survive this chaos.

It was clear that they couldn’t possibly defeat the enemy. At least not now.

‘Retreat! Retreat!’ he yelled, swinging his axe blindly to attract attention.

Only some Foresters began to run. They hacked at the palisade, rapidly chipping away at the wood. The rest ignored Teion and kept on fighting, dying one after another as every battle went, locked in close combat until it was either them or the enemy who died. But unlike before, they were fighting for their own cause, for their own freedom. Freedom born from chaos.

A section of the palisade finally broke. Those who wanted to retreat poured outside, escaping the carnage inside the camp. They were free.

‘Retreat! Retreat!’ Teion repeated, fighting as he stood on the horse. There were hundreds of Foresters beside him, their ignited flames of passion unable to be extinguished until they were killed.

‘You retreat!’ one shouted. ‘We’ll fuck as many of them up before we all die!’ The next moment, that Forester was pierced through the head with a spear.

Finally, Teion ran, jumping off the horse and breaking through the mob before he finally stepped outside, taking the position ahead of all the running Foresters. As he looked back, there were still many that stayed, fighting till the end.

‘Head for the nearest Forester settlement!’ he shouted.

Throughout the night they ran, occasionally looking back until they saw the light in the camp had been completely extinguished.

---

It was sunrise. They had run for nearly the entire night. The forest was before their eyes. Behind Teion were a few thousand Foresters, most of them still barely clothed and having only their weapons to their name. In the span of a single night, those Foresters had been rudely awakened from their sleep, found themselves rising up in arms in complete chaos, and now on the run from the military which they once served.

Everything happened just too fast, too intense.

Out of practically nowhere, the kingdom now had a few thousand more members, numbers Teion could barely comprehend. Alongside Teion there were only around ten left of the original nineteen. The other eighty of the original rebellion were still nowhere to be found, probably on their way to the camp. Elethien was still missing.

But that didn’t matter. The surviving Foresters from the camp were now free. Teion wasn’t even sure if that was Elethien’s intended objective, but this was the result.

It was a miracle.

‘Teion,’ one of his companions called, stopping him in his tracks. ‘The group we brought out of the camp has something to say.’

Teion turned around, looking at the huge crowd before him. It still felt unreal. The night before was like a fever dream.

A woman stepped forward. She was exhausted, her body pale from starvation and perhaps illness, but her eyes were filled with awe, admiration… and gratefulness.

‘You are the leader, right? Because… you are our saviour.’ Almost in unison, the group saluted at Teion, giving him what little strength they had left to offer their collective respect. It didn’t matter that many hundreds more were likely killed in that battle. It didn’t matter that Teion only started the chaos. It didn’t even matter that Teion didn’t really know what he was doing, only that he needed to get back to Elethien as soon as he led them out of the camp.

He wasn’t capable of such leadership and strategy. Everything just fell into place.

It all felt absurd. Extremely absurd.

Perhaps this was the work of ‘Fate’ that Elethien had been praying to all this time?