"Viscount, sir! You..."
"Don't interrupt!"
I sealed the initiator compound with steel... now I needed a lever connected to the piston. I stretched out my hand and pulled in a few more springs, reshaping them mid-air into a solid chunk of steel. Connect, merge. Done!
I looked at my creation with satisfaction. It didn't really look like a flamethrower, though the working principle was somewhat similar.
A crude stock made from a couple of rods, a barrel-shaped chamber, and a short nozzle ending in a flared muzzle. Instead of a trigger, there was a long lever that, when pressed, would mix the compounds and unleash a scalding fountain at the enemy. At least, in theory. In practice, I just hoped it wouldn't melt in the soldier's hands.
Brushing metallic dust from my fingers, I turned to the messenger.
"All right, who are you and what do you want?"
"Henry, the commander's adjutant, sir. The Baronet asked me to tell you he's waiting for you in his tent."
"Adjutant? I thought mercenary companies called that role 'deputy'?"
"No, sir, the deputy in the field is Bert. He'll take command if the Baronet is injured. He's a fine swordsman, but I handle all logistics and administrative matters."
I glanced at the scattered vials and flasks around me. Damn, not the best timing from the Baronet. I couldn't leave this unattended, even for an hour. I figured Hornet wouldn't mind too much if I was a little late. After all, I was working for our mutual cause.
"Administrative, you say... Then go find another three kilos of iron, or better yet, steel. And send someone to the Baronet, tell him I'm extremely busy with alchemy for the next half hour, but I'll visit him as soon as I'm done. Also, send someone to show me where the commander's tent is later. Well? Move it!"
Henry hurried off, and I began assembling a second copy of the alchemical flamethrower from the leftover metal.
I wiped my fingers on the grass.
The second exemplar came out slightly bigger, oh well. Now the soldiers had a real chance to roast even the largest bug. The mixture burned as hot as thermite. Only problem was, if these alchemical wunderwaffe weren't used in a few days, they'd turn into useless pumpkins. That was the nature of alchemy... very few compounds remained stable for long.
Henry stood patiently, waiting for me to finish. Good soldier. Just night and day compared to Bert, who made my fists itch just by being around.
"By the way, how's Bert?"
"In the infirmary. The commander forbade the healers from wasting energy on him. He'll be back in action in a few days, you know how second-rank regeneration is."
"Serves him right. Others would've executed him on the spot. All right, Adjutant, lead me to the commander."
Neat rows of tents lit by torchlight gave way to wagons. Here and there, campfires burned with soldiers sitting around, busy with various tasks. But the mood was nothing like yesterday. Instead of jokes and tales, grim faces and hushed whispers that fell silent as we passed. I strained to listen:
"…a hole ten meters wide..."
"…melted the wall like wax in a fire..."
"…everyone died..."
Damn. Looked like someone from the assault group couldn't keep their mouth shut, and now the whole camp was buzzing about how the Matriarch obliterated the previous outpost. They were rightly assuming that since a proper fortress had already fallen, a ditch and some stakes stood no chance.
We finally reached a tent marked only by a regimental banner.
Henry bowed and stepped back. I pulled aside the flap and stepped in.
Simple, ascetic furnishings. Only the desk covered in papers and the armor stand marked this as something more than a soldier's tent.
"Welcome, Viscount. A bit cramped, but make yourself at home," the Baronet said, sweeping the papers aside and placing two bottles of wine on the table.
Without his armor, Hornet seemed visibly relaxed. I felt like I'd known this man for years. I smiled and took one of the bottles.
"We're short on cups here, but the wine's as good as anything served at royal balls. Best from my stores. To your health, Lord Condor."
"And to yours, Sir Hornet."
After a sip, I couldn't help but ask why he'd invited me.
"To be honest, I meant to do this yesterday, but you and the old man stirred up a commotion, and it just didn't work out. Today, though, there's another reason... I wanted to personally thank you for dealing with the shadowspawn. The camp can sleep peacefully tonight thanks to you."
"It wasn't difficult... and weren't we switching to first names?"
"Well, only here, Randall. In front of the troops, I can't afford to get chummy with someone above me in rank. And as for 'not difficult'—don't sell yourself short. Most nobles wouldn't lift a finger for common folk, let alone fight monsters for them. So, to your health!"
The wine was rich, incomparable to the knockoffs sold in stores. Back home, you'd only find something like this at the Golden Dragon. Damn. How are you guys holding up without me? I took another sip for my friends.
"Have you ever heard of Samael?" I asked, surprising even myself.
"Hmm." Hornet fell silent, even setting his bottle down. "Hmm, something's nagging at me, but no, I can't recall. Is it important?"
"Maybe..."
I'd have to remember to question some higher-ranking nobles. There had to be a reason I ended up in this world specifically, right? But to get that answer, I had to survive the spiders first.
"I overheard some talk in the camp. Everyone's afraid of the battle tomorrow," I mentioned, referring to the tense atmosphere.
"No surprise," he nodded indifferently.
"You didn't forbid the men from talking about what happened at the fortress?"
"Randall, you only ever commanded the Count's guard, didn't you? First rule of leadership: never give orders that won't be followed. It undermines your authority. The rumors would've spread either way, that's inevitable, but I'd rather have the men know what they might face."
I gave a small snort. The Baronet clearly had too high an opinion of Randall. The old man never even trusted him to command what little was left of the castle guard after the king's restrictions on recruitment.
I wanted to believe in Hornet's command experience, his logic made sense, but still...
"Won't they just scare each other so badly they run off the battlefield?"
"I know my people. They're not afraid of battle, or even the spiders themselves. They're only afraid of one specific spider: the Matriarch. A human can't stand against such a monster. Fear of it is natural. Beasts like that are handled by mage strike groups led by an Archmage, or better yet, a Lesser Magister. Let the soldiers talk, Randall. Tomorrow, before we march, I'll give them an orderly fallback plan in case the creature shows up. Take this to heart, Viscount: you can't demand of your men what you're not willing to do yourself."
I raised the bottle in a mock salute, acknowledging the wisdom in his words.
"I wonder why the Third Prince is trying to make our lives harder. I don't think I've ever crossed paths with him," I muttered, glancing at the cursed royal order on Hornet's desk.
"You may not have personally, but your House, Condor... isn't exactly beloved by the king. That order might be the king's will, or your grandfather's enemies', or maybe the Prince just wants some alchemical junk for himself. No way to say for sure. Damn politics..."
Hornet took a swig of wine and went on.
"Cheer up, Viscount. Believe it or not, these are the quietest days you'll ever have. The Black Forest spiders are nothing compared to the poisonous ones nesting in the capital. Endless duels, arrogance, idiocy, petty power plays... I got sick of all that crap the last time I was there. Honestly, Viscount, be glad. Even if we die, it'll be an honest death in battle, not a dagger in the back."
"I never understood why young nobles act so obnoxious..." I muttered, recalling the way Randall was mocked at court. And not just the capital, hell, I barely walked out of that tavern in the boonies before bumping into that cocky rooster Kazimir.
"You don't understand because you're the sole heir. In big noble houses, ten, even thirty people can vie for the title. In that kind of competition, you won't survive if you're polite. You have to claw for every inch, act like you're better than everyone. Only someone like that has the right to become head of a House. Those who jump the wrong target... well, their families bury the bodies, and that's the end of their story. Better that than letting some fool who can't measure his strength insult someone higher-ranked, and get the whole family buried. Natural selection, Viscount. You'll feel it yourself once this expedition's over."
Well, I had gotten much stronger, and Randall's enemies were in for a hell of a surprise when we met again. I just had to survive long enough to show them. Before I forgot, I asked the Baronet for a couple soldiers to entrust with my alchemical flamethrowers.
"You'll strip me of my army at this rate!" Hornet laughed. "Fine, I'll give you a couple of my best, just don't get them killed. I trained my elite myself. They're like children to me."
I left Hornet's tent well past midnight, tipsy and pleased. Somehow I found my way back to the wagon and was surprised to see yesterday's disappointed girl still waiting nearby. This time, I didn't refuse her company.
"Time to move!" Hornet donned his helmet and marched forward. His massive horse watched him go with mournful eyes.
Unfortunately, we couldn't take him with us. Our forty-man unit was already leaving the camp at dawn.
I cast one last glance at the meager fortifications. Would they hold against a counterattack? And more importantly, would we make it back in time?
A light cuirass, hastily reshaped from a blacksmith's anvil. My sword. The frost rune hanging from a chain around my neck. On either side of me, the two soldiers Hornet had lent me. Shields strapped to their backs, makeshift flamethrowers in their hands. One of them fidgeted with the weapon uncertainly, his hand instinctively reaching for the more familiar axe at his belt. The other held his weapon with confidence, gripping the wire stock like a soldier.
"Hands off the lever! Don't even think about touching it without my order!" I snapped, seeing the first one twist the thing around so much I half expected him to yank on the firing arm by accident.
He swore and slung the unfamiliar weapon over his shoulder.
Morons. Everywhere.
Could we hope for a favorable outcome? In any case, I'd done everything I could.
Our unit pressed deeper into the Black Forest. Twice we'd had to stop and hack through barriers the forest itself had grown.
The tendrils were less frequent now, but much thicker. They branched out high above, forming a massive canopy through which less and less light filtered. We'd need torches soon.
An ominous silence. Only our footsteps and the clinking of armor broke it. By our calculations, we should've already run into scouting spiders. But the Black Forest seemed dead. In the darkness, among the intertwined tendrils coating the ground like the veins of some enormous beast, we were no more than specks of dust.
It was growing more spacious. Where at first we had to squeeze past the tendrils, now we found ourselves in a relatively open area. The canopy loomed fifty meters above, so dense it blocked out all sunlight.
Suddenly, I tripped over something rectangular in the dirt. Damn it! Swearing echoed nearby.
"Hold on!" the alchemist shouted, conjuring a bright glowing orb.
The light cut through the darkness, revealing the scene. Thick root-like tendrils coated a low rise in the earth like a malignant tumor. Scattered stones lay nearby. Wait a minute...
"It's a wall! We've made it... but to what?" the old alchemist's voice wavered.
A wall.
Once, the Black Forest had started a kilometer from here. The wall was meant to protect the castle of House Raven, a sturdy outpost against the monsters. An impenetrable defense. Even after the castle fell and the forest claimed new ground, the kingdom believed the wall still stood, deep in the woods. Damaged, perhaps, but repairable. No expense had been spared: with powerful runes, a foundation strengthened by magic, and walls reinforced with iron. The plan was to clear the forest, reclaim the wall, and use it as a base for further purges.
All those dreams were just fantasies.
The forest had deliberately destroyed the wall, leaving only broken foundation stones. This wasn't just a mess of black vines—there was intelligence behind it.
I glanced at the Baronet, who was staring tensely into the shadows. Something was wrong...
"Soldiers, to me! It's an ambush!" he barked.
The first spider dive-bombed us from above.