Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 50 (Patreon)

News of their goal quickly spread through the column as Lys trudged along with the rest of the recruits, pack and kit on her back. The sun beat down mercilessly, just like it had been doing for the last few days. Summer really had stuck its roots in.

She glanced at her companions. They looked tired.

“Has anyone been to Tradow before?” Lys asked.

The others shook their heads, their eyes fixed on the dusty road ahead.

Woodrow finally broke the silence. “I heard it’s just a small village, like Swiftmorest.”

They marched on, the only sound being boots on hard packed earth. An hour passed, and the company suddenly halted. Lys looked up, squinting against the glare of the sun.

“Group one, on me!” Swift’s voice rang out.

Lys and the others hurried to form up, their hearts pounding with anticipation. Swift led them to the front of the column at a brisk pace, where Sergeant Finn stood waiting.

“Listen up, recruits!” Finn barked, his eyes sweeping over the assembled group. “We’re going to have some trail games. Each recruit group will take turns going ahead of the company and finding a location to hide. Your objective is to ambush the column. If the recruits in the column don’t spot the ambushers, they fail.”

Lys exchanged glances with her companions. This was something new.

“The groups that get the most successful ambushes and the group that spots the best will get double rations for dinner,” Finn continued, a grin spreading across his face. “And we’ll be having the last of our meat tonight until we reach the village.”

Lys’ heart raced as Swift ordered group one forward. She double-time marched with the rest of them, leaving the company behind to resume the march.

They had to move quickly to get out of sight, or they wouldn’t be able to find an ambush spot.

Swift came to a stop, sending them all to a sudden halt. “I’ve been injured and can’t lead the group. Who’s in charge?”

Confusion filled twenty faces; he wasn’t hurt at all. The group mulled about, uncertain.

Swift grabbed Plainfield. “Now your group leader is injured and can’t lead the group either. Who’s in charge?”

Lys swallowed and stepped forward, adrenaline surging. “Woodrow, Stormwell, get the stretchers out as fast as possible! Hurry, hurry! Get the injured on them!”

They scrambled to obey, pulling out the stretchers to load Swift and Plainfield onto them. Lys double-timed the march again, her eyes scanning the terrain for a likely ambush spot.

The landscape stretched out, an open plain with the road curving around the base of some low hills. Horrible, horrible terrain for ambushing! She tried to formulate a plan. They needed cover.

Lys muttered a curse under her breath. Her mind raced, retracing their steps as she ordered the group to turn around. Confusion rippled through the ranks, but they hurried to comply.

A sharp outcropping they had passed caught her eye, and with no sign of the company in sight, they had a chance. She directed the group to line up against the rock.

“We need extra cover,” Lys said, surveying the area. She pointed. “Chop up those bushes, quickly!”

The recruits set to work, hacking at the foliage and positioning it to conceal their presence. They settled into their hiding spots, the anticipation palpable as they waited for the company to pass by.

The sound of marching feet grew louder, and Lys held her breath. Suddenly, a roar erupted around the corner as the company charged, confronting the hidden recruits. Groans of disappointment filled the air as the ambush failed.

Swift stood up, dusting himself off. Finn approached, assessing the scene before announcing the score. “Group Two gets a point for spotting Group One.”

Lys frowned, turning to Finn. “How did they find us out?”

Finn pointed at a young tree. “One of the other recruits saw the tree start to shake. They were suspicious.”

“Shit,” Lys muttered, realizing their mistake.

The group somberly rejoined the column, and group two moved ahead.

The game continued all day, sometimes they won, sometimes they failed to spot the ambush group.

By the time the sun was drooping in the afternoon sky, her mind was churning with ideas on how to spot the next ambush. The other recruits chattered excitedly, their voices carrying over the rhythmic thud of their boots.

“I bet they’ll hide in the trees again,” Woodrow said, his eyes scanning the foliage along the road.

Stormwell shook his head. “Nah, they’ll probably try something different this time. Maybe in a ditch or behind some rocks.”

Lys listened to their theories, considering each possibility. She knew they had to be more observant, to look for any signs of disturbance or movement that might give away the ambushers’ position.

A shout rang out from the front of the column. Lys craned her neck to see what was happening. Group two had leapt out from a patch of long grass, catching the leading edge of the company off guard.

Finn’s voice boomed over the commotion. “Looks like Group Two is going to get quadruple rations, and everyone else won’t get anything at this rate!”

Groans and curses rippled through the ranks as the recruits realized they’d been outmaneuvered again.

As group three moved forward to work on their ambush, Lys found herself at the front of the column once more. Paranoia consumed her the longer they went without spotting anything. She scanned the terrain, her eyes darting from tree to tree, searching for any hint of the hidden recruits.

A rustling sound caught her attention, and she squinted at a nearby oak. Suddenly, a figure tumbled from the branches, landing in a heap on the ground. Laughter erupted from the company as the unfortunate recruit picked himself up, dusting off his uniform.

Lys turned to Finn, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Does that count as spotting the ambush?”

Finn nodded silently.

Group Three remained motionless, hanging up in the trees. Lys cupped her hands and shouted into the thicket. “We know you’re there. Come on down!”

Finn announced the score. “Group One gets a spotting point!”

Group Two moved to the front of the column as Lys and her group moved out. A deflated Group Three rejoined the column. As they moved for their second ambush attempt, Swift turned to the recruits. “Who’s in charge?”

Plainfield stepped forward this time, his chest puffed out with confidence. “I am!”

With a nod from Swift, they double-timed it, leaving the company behind as they searched for the perfect spot to lay their trap.

They found it along a shallow stream that ran across the road. On one side there was a thick line of foliage that would block the oncoming company’s view. A perfect spot for ambush.

And thus the perfect decoy. The closer side of the stream had a shallow depression and much less cover, but all the attention would be on the opaque thicket ahead.

Especially after they planted obvious tracks and some torn branches to mark their ‘passage’ up into it.

When the head of the column passed by they homed in on the bait as if on cue.

“Attack!” Plainfield shouted. The group jumped up and charged before coming to a stop a few feet away from the column. Some of the other recruits even looked at them in shock. Most just groaned at the loss.

That was the last ‘ambush’ game, and they moved as a group until the sun reached a point low enough to halt them to build a camp for the day. If it had been any season other than summer, they wouldn’t have had enough time.

“Alright, listen up!” Sergeant Swift’s voice cut through the chatter. “Group Two kept the win for ambushes, but all three groups tied for spotting. We have decided that everyone will be getting a double ration of the last meat stew tonight!”

Cheers erupted from the ranks. Even the prospect of digging trenches and setting up camp couldn’t dampen their enthusiasm.

“Did you hear that, Lys?” Woodrow grinned, slapping her on the back. “Double rations!”

“And meat stew, no less,” Stormwell chimed in, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Lys nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’ll be a nice change from the usual fare.”

The mess tent was the first thing erected. As they set about their tasks, the recruits’ chatter filled the air.

Lys ducked her head, focusing on driving her shovel into the earth.

After the trenches were dug and the tents pitched, the recruits gathered around the campfire, eagerly awaiting the meal. The aroma of the stew wafted through the air, making Lys’ stomach growl.

As the stew was ladled out, the recruits dug in with gusto. Lys savored every bite, the tender meat and rich broth warming her from the inside out.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a meal this good,” Stormwell said, scraping his bowl clean.

Lys nodded in agreement, grateful for the double portion. As the evening wore on, she grew increasingly drowsy, the day’s exertions catching up with her.

“I’m turning in,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’ve got morning watch.”

Her companions bid her goodnight, and Lys crawled into her tent. As she settled onto her bedroll, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment.