Lord Marball had been waiting for over an hour now, and his patience was wearing thin.
Most likely, Shar is dead. If so, that's excellent news.
Whether it was true or not didn't matter to him. Accidents happened all the time on the battlefield. If the man had been mistaken for one of the beasts and killed, who could be blamed?
He smirked at the thought. This was a rare opportunity, and he planned to seize it fully. With success, he would be rewarded. Perhaps he would be granted new lands or an honorary title. It could be the beginning of his family's rise to true prominence.
"This is a waste of time. If he hasn't returned yet, then the beasts most likely killed him," Marball said aloud, not to anyone in particular, but loud enough for those nearby to hear. It was a convenient excuse to begin.
"Time to move out. Infantry, take the lead. Cavalry, follow from the rear!"
He began issuing orders, but a sharp cough from his side interrupted him.
"What is it, Roderick?" Marball asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone.
Roderick was an old companion and one of the few people Marball actually trusted. Though technically a retainer, his experience in both swordsmanship and tactics had earned him the position of military adviser within the Marball estate. They had known each other for decades.
"My lord, I recommend we reconsider our formation. The supply wagons won't be able to navigate the forest paths, and the cavalry won't be effective in such tight quarters. I suggest we have half the cavalry dismount and stay behind to guard the wagons. Bandits could be nearby. As for the archers, their range will be limited in dense forest. Better to keep their short swords ready."
Marball scratched at his chin, then gave a slow nod.
"Yes, that makes sense. Cavalry, dismount. Half of you stay behind to protect the wagons. We likely won't need many supplies for this mission, but we can't risk losing what we do have. Archers, prepare your short swords."
He repeated Roderick's recommendations as direct commands. The troops moved to adjust their positions and formation accordingly.
"And you," Marball snapped, turning to a man in flowing robes beside him, "stay close to me at all times. Your only job is to make sure I don't die at the hands of those savages. Understood?"
The mage gave a quiet nod, his face unreadable beneath his hood.
There were only a few mages in the employ of the Lord of Enrain, and none had been volunteered for this campaign. The local lord had recently suffered a monster attack and was unwilling to risk his remaining spellcasters on what he considered a political stunt. Marball had been left to rely on the single mage his own household employed.
Since this had been Marball's idea to begin with, a plan to gain prestige through the "taming" of the Foxkin, the risk had fallen squarely on his shoulders. Still, he had been granted a respectable number of light infantry from Enrain and the support of the royal military's heavy infantry.
That would be more than enough to crush however many beast warriors were hiding in the woods.
The kingdom had no interest in preserving the Foxkin tribe. They were to serve the crown's interests or be erased. The king had made it clear that troublesome elements such as Demihumans, dissenters, and even ministers like Shar, were to be removed in one fashion or another.
I doubt the king would mind if I kept a few slaves for myself.
Marball chuckled under his breath, thoughts turning dark. He imagined the Foxkin women who might soon be in chains, imagining the rewards he would claim for his "service" to the crown. His thoughts grew more vile the longer he entertained them.
Victory was already his, at least in his mind. The Foxkin were known for their agility and natural magic, but in direct combat against trained infantry, they would crumble. That was why he placed his heavy infantry in the vanguard. They would break through whatever resistance the beasts put up. The rest would be easy.
There was a reason he trusted infantry above all. Magic had turned cavalry into a liability, horses couldn't carry the weight of Black Iron, and without it, they were useless against mages. Infantry, especially the elite heavy units clad in Black Iron, had become the core of every serious army. They were nearly impervious to direct magical attacks. The Foxkin wouldn't stand a chance.
And soon, the forest and everything within it would belong to him.
They would bear the brunt of the enemy's charge while the light infantry moved to flank their positions. The heavy infantry were equipped with Black Iron breastplates layered over chainmail shirts, along with Black Iron shields and heavy spears. These soldiers were elite, battle-tested veterans from the kingdom's standing army. Surely, the enemy would be crushed in no time.
At least, that was what Lord Marball believed. It was typical of the kingdom's noble officers, trained for open-field battles and rigid formations that fell apart in forest warfare. They had generally learned strategies for open-field combat, for castle sieges, for orderly lines and predictable movements. None of that applied in the dense, shadowed forest where visibility was poor and formations quickly fell apart. The reason for this was entirely due to magic which changed the face of battle.
With his formation established, Lord Marball marched from the rear of his army. He saw no reason to endanger himself and had surrounded himself with the archers and dismounted cavalry, his mage, and of course, Roderick. With these men at his side, he felt no fear. Being far from the front lines made it difficult to monitor what was actually happening, but that didn't concern him. If needed, he could send a runner. Besides, the heavy infantry were being led by a capable commander appointed by the military.
"Roderick," Marball said with a twisted grin, "I hear the Foxkin women are renowned for their beauty. I can't wait to get my hands on a few of them."
Roderick, ever the loyal companion, pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth before replying. "Indeed, I've heard the same. Surely, you wouldn't mind sparing one or two for me?"
Marball chuckled darkly. "I suppose I could. Consider it a reward for your service."
Roderick straightened and offered a salute.
"You are truly magnanimous, my lord."
The two shared a laugh, exchanging fantasies as if they were planning a feast rather than an invasion. Neither noticed the change in the air until it was too late.
A pale mist had begun to spread through the forest, curling low to the ground, almost unnoticeable at first. The soldiers continued forward, but the fog thickened as they moved deeper, becoming heavy enough to cloud vision.
The narrow forest path forced them to march in a tight formation. Their column was stretched thin, and communication between the front and rear became increasingly difficult. Lord Marball, still confident in his safety, hadn't yet realized how completely his view of the battlefield had been cut off.
The march came to a sudden halt. It was only then that he noticed how dense the fog had become. He couldn't see more than a few steps ahead.
"Mage," he barked, "what's going on?"
The robed man shifted uneasily. "I'm not entirely sure, my lord. But this mist... it feels magical."
Marball's eyes narrowed. "Roderick, thoughts?"
"We should be close to the village," Roderick said, scanning the dim outline of trees ahead. "I'll head to the front and see what's causing the delay."
Marball gave a nod and waited impatiently.
Several minutes later, Roderick returned.
"My lord, the soldiers at the front have stopped. They're waiting on orders. Visibility's too poor to proceed safely."
Marball's face twisted in anger.
"Cowards! Fog or no fog, we finish this today. Send word to advance!"
Roderick hesitated.
"My lord... I believe this fog is no accident. This is clearly a trap. We should consider pulling back," he began.
Before he could finish, the front ranks exploded into chaos.
"Enemy sighted in the front!"
Lord Marball brightened at the call.
"Finally. Roderick, let's finish this."
But Roderick didn't share his enthusiasm. A strange unease gripped him.
"Sir, I really think we should—"
Marball cut him off, slamming a gauntleted fist against his leg.
"Enough. It's time to fight. Order the infantry forward into the village and destroy it."
The command rippled down the line. The infantry resumed their advance into the thick mist.
"We won't be able to make use of our archers in this fog," Roderick warned. "We can't see anything. Lord Marball, I really think we should stop the advance."
Roderick was rarely this persistent. It was beginning to wear on Marball's nerves, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. As much as he desired glory, it would be meaningless if he failed here.
He was just about to call a retreat when sudden cries echoed from the front.
"Roderick, what is going on?"
"I'm not sure, my lord. Perhaps they've engaged the enemy. I'll go see what's happening."
Roderick turned to leave, but he stopped short.
"Roderick? What are you doing? Hurry!"
"My lord… I smell something burning."
Marball sniffed the air. A sharp, acrid scent reached him seconds later.
"What in the name of the Divines is going on? Don't tell me..."
A soldier came running, panic etched across his face.
"My lord! Fire! We're surrounded!"
"What?!" Marball couldn't contain his fear.
"Where? Do they mean to burn down the forest? How can that be? Isn't this their home? We must escape. Quickly! Roderick, find us a way out!"
"It's difficult to see anything in this fog. The fire is growing. I can't make anything out."
Marball spun in place, trying to find a path, but the haze clung to everything.
"Damn this cursed fog. I can't see a thing."
That wasn't entirely true. The mist was glowing faintly now, illuminated by the fire creeping closer. The warmth in the air was rising. It was no longer just smoke. The flames were advancing all around them.
______________________
"Chief, the fire has started at the rear of the enemy army."
One of the Foxkin warriors delivered his report. Somehow, Fayde had become the Chief of the Foxkin tribe. It still felt strange to think about. He was now engaged to Reia, and shortly after, the others began treating him as their leader. No one had objected. They accepted it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They respected him, followed his commands, and placed their trust in his plans. Reia's quiet support had done more to legitimize his role than any formal ceremony could.
Reia stood close by. She had been essential in organizing the defense, offering insight into what the Foxkin were capable of and helping shape the overall strategy. Though the kingdom's army had arrived ahead of schedule, their preparations had finished just in time. All that remained was to follow through.
The Foxkin had executed the plan with care and precision. Around the village, they had laid concealed spiked pits and built barricades to restrict movement. Escape would be difficult once the fire spread, and panic would only make things worse. With the help of magic, these defenses had taken far less time to construct than expected. If the traps did their job, there would be no need for much direct confrontation. The main objective was to eliminate the kingdom's heavy infantry. The rest would not pose much of a problem.
"Good," Fayde said. "The fire will spread from the rear, and once we burn the village, it will catch from the front. They'll be thrown into confusion, and that's when we strike. Have the heavy infantry reached the village yet?"
Some of the Foxkin were skilled in illusion magic. They had created a thick fog to obscure the magical decoys. Without the mist, the illusions would have appeared too transparent to fool anyone. Reia had suggested using fog to blend the illusions into the environment, and the result was convincing enough to mislead a marching army. The soldiers would believe the village was full of defenders and walk straight into the traps.
"I had them cast illusions of a populated village. Are they holding up well?"
"Yes, Chief. Maralli is maintaining them. With the fog, they look real. The enemy won't realize the truth until it's too late."
"Perfect. Are we sure the flames won't reach us?"
"Don't worry, our magic casters will keep it contained," she added quietly. "It won't touch the the areas of our operation and once we strike, we will move quickly through the canopy where the Humans won't be able to reach."
Fayde and Reia led the Foxkin warriors toward the rear of the enemy column. The heavy infantry at the front believed they were about to face the full Foxkin force. Instead, they were walking into a maze of carefully laid traps.
The pits they had dug were deep and lined with sturdy wooden spikes that were reinforced with magic. The heavy armor worn by the enemy would only add to the impact when they fell. Each spike was thick enough to pierce iron plating, and they had tested them to make sure they wouldn't break on contact. Even though the spikes were reinforced with magic, it wouldn't matter. Black Iron only deflected magical attacks directly aimed at it, falling onto magically reinforced, sharpened wood would only end in their deaths.
"It's time to make the enemy regret ever setting foot in this forest," Reia said, eyes gleaming.
She seemed a little too excited about it.
_____________________________________
Elsewhere, at the front of the column, Henk finally caught sight of the Foxkin village through the mist. He could just barely see some of the Demihumans within. They didn't seem to have noticed the soldiers' presence yet. That struck him as odd. The Foxkin were supposed to have enhanced senses, but perhaps the thick fog was interfering with them somehow.
Now that his unit was within reach of the village and the enemy remained unaware, Henk believed the Foxkin's fate was sealed. He had expected this mission to be more difficult, but they had traveled deep into the forest without encountering any real resistance. Being from the Capitol, he didn't know much about the so-called Foxkin beyond what he had heard in passing. Their existence seemed shrouded in mystery. Even the locals in Enrain didn't seem to know much. He didn't put much stock in creatures he considered not much more than animals.
They were said to be skilled in magic, which was the reason the heavy infantry had been assigned to this mission. According to what he had heard, the Foxkin were agile but physically weaker than Humans. Their magical prowess was well-known, but their lack of strength made them ill-suited for direct combat. Henk had no time to verify any of this. He had to act on what little information he had.
Still, he was confident. There were too few of the Demihumans for any real resistance, and magic wasn't all it was made out to be. Not against trained warriors like his men. Henk commanded an elite unit of heavy infantry sent by royal decree to either subjugate or eliminate the Foxkin. His soldiers were seasoned veterans, accustomed to fighting mages. They had been chosen for this task specifically because of their experience and their equipment.
Each soldier carried a shield polished to a mirror-like shine. When struck by magic, it would reflect the energy rather than absorb it. Because of this, the shields had come to be known among soldiers as Mirror Shields. Their armor was similarly effective, made of dense Black Iron that could deflect magical attacks. Against mages and infantry alike, they were built to dominate.
Henk didn't care how or why the gear worked. He had seen it succeed countless times, and that was enough. He didn't believe the Foxkin stood a chance. Their agility would be meaningless. Their magic would be deflected. The battle would be over quickly.
Even in a typical skirmish, their shield formations could block barrages of Fireballs. Unless the spell hit directly, the damage would be negligible. Their one weakness was mobility, but that was irrelevant here. Henk viewed his squad as unstoppable and had full confidence in the outcome.
Seeing the village up ahead, his blood began to boil with anticipation. They were going to charge straight into the heart of the enemy. He had no intention of showing mercy. His orders were clear: eliminate them all.
Henk raised his spear high and thrust it forward with force, shouting, "Charge!"
His voice rang out across the foggy field, and his soldiers responded at once. They surged forward in a wide arc formation, heavy armor clanking with each stride. Despite the heavy army, each soldier was strong enough to sprint for a short period of time and make quick work of any enemy. The village was just ahead, and they would be upon it within moments. The enemy had no time to react, and soon, the Foxkin would be nothing but a memory.
At the front of the charge, Henk ran ahead of his men. He was a commander who led by example, never one to cower in the rear. He would claim the first kill with his own hands.
His focus remained locked on the figures he believed to be Foxkin just ahead. The fog was thickest near the ground, so although they could see shapes in front of them, the terrain beneath their feet was obscured. The only way they could tell they were on solid ground was by the dull thud of their boots hitting dirt.
So, when Henk suddenly felt a sensation of weightlessness, there was no time to react.
His foot never touched the ground again. Instead, he fell fast and uncomprehending, until a hardened wooden spike punched through his armor and into his body with sickening ease.
There was no resistance. No struggle. His death was immediate.
Behind him, others met the same fate.
The heavy infantry had no time to stop. One by one, they disappeared into the fog, swallowed whole by the very earth beneath them. No warning was given. No cries of alarm were heard in time.
It was as if they had been spirited away.
Those still running couldn't even see the pits their comrades had fallen into. Only that they had vanished, and vanished swiftly.