Chapter 334: Raiding the Empire

"ENEMY RAID!" The Ammary camp was alert as hundreds of horse riders crossed over the river. Some went along the bridge whilst others braved the water, hoping the water wasn’t too deep for their horses. The bells quickly tolled around the makeshift camp, as each man quickly armed themselves.

Michael led the charge and clicked his tongue. Although he wanted to cause some damage to the Ammary forces, his other goal was to get a good feel for the strength of his enemy. How quickly they prepared for his raid wasn’t a good sign for the future. Despite that he didn’t stop. Slamming the reins, his deep black horse sped up, charging for the first row of men. Michael let go of the reins and reached out to grab the javelin hanging from the side.

Lifting it, he waited for the perfect moment. He got closer and closer, but didn’t panic. When he was about fifty meters away, he exhaled all the air in his lungs and threw. The javelin cut through the air like a bullet and pierced through the chest of the man directly in front. His horse, like sharing a mind, sped up, seeing the opening, and Michael pulled his sword.

The golden hilt reflected the firelight coming from ahead, and the Ammary soldiers saw the sword that had devastated all enemies of the Holy Seat for the first time for the first time. Michael charged through and swung his sword down, from behind the remaining hundred, all split, some going around, and others following directly behind. The first row of defence shot their spears out and easily caught a few riders. The horses let out dying cries of pain, and men were thrown off.

What quickly followed were the yells of men before being silenced as a stampede of horses trampled them. Michael led the charge, his sword already drawing the first blood. His eyes darted around, and seeing a foot storage in the distance, he turned his horse in that direction. His men followed his lead as Ammary soldiers from the side shot out spears, trying to catch a rider lacking. Men flew off the backs of their horses as those unlucky enough to be caught died a slow death under hooves.

Michael inched closer, but squinted, seeing the lack of defences around something so important. Looking around the food storage, he saw a couple of Ammary men holding a rope. They quickly turned, changing direction in the last second. The Ammary soldiers pulled hard, and from the ground, a spike wall shot. Those unlucky enough rode directly into it, impaling themselves. Some died quickly, but others choked on their own blood, dying in agony.

Michael turned around and clicked his tongue. Many of his men managed to react in time, but the number who fell for the trap wasn’t small. Those who survived the initial trap and only flew off their horses were quickly hunted down and killed, hardly able to put up a fight without their weapons.

’This is annoying.’Michael couldn’t help but click his tongue again. Swinging his sword once more, he drew blood again.’They’re coordinated, sly and well armed.’Michael looked around. Slowly edging closer to the centre of the camp, he already knew it was where William would be and decided to pay him a visit.

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William geared up with Marcus in his tent. The two looked at one another with small smiles, expecting Michael to make the first move. They have been flooding him with refugees for a while now. Even Michael must have felt the noose tightening. Fighting your enemy alone was easy. Having to do it whilst giving away your food was hard.

Grabbing his spear, William took a step out. He had heard the fighting from inside, but stepping, he could now see what accommodated it. Blazing fires, blood, and the midnight sky. "I’ll be off." Marcus casually spoke as if the fighting around him wasn’t real, disappearing.

William quickly focused and joined up with a few of his men. They were all prepared and waiting. The ground trembled, signalling the approaching enemy, and William readied his spear. In the distance, he saw his enemy. The white armour of the Templar stuck out like a sore thumb, but was oddly dangerous and beautiful.

Its design was basic, but it could make anyone wonder how many battles they had seen. William watched Michael and felt the man look his way. Readying himself, he looked behind Michael for help. It was a lot, almost too much for him to deal with. William closed his eyes and waited. He felt the ground through his feet and listened as the stampede got louder.

In a couple of seconds, he reopened his eyes, shot out his spear and dodged to the side. A sword swung where he was standing as a rider, flew off the back of his horse, and the spear stuck out of his chest. His allies couldn’t risk caring about his safety and trampling over him.

Michael saw William and chuckled. The old man wasn’t fast enough to dodge a horse, but he was smart enough to predict that he needed to dodge. But Michael knew that even doing something like that required skill. It wasn’t a skill learnt but something bro from years of experience. How many battles? How many brushes with death had William survived? That move told him all he needed. Too many. His enemy wasn’t just a strategist but someone who lived on the battlefield. Someone like him.

Slamming the reins of his horse, his men circled back around. Fighting was going on all around him, riding in the heart of the camp. Every sense was on high alert, but even Michael couldn’t believe what he saw. In the distance, he saw a man standing on boxes stacked high up. With a large, confident grin, he watched Michael and his men like a lion stalking its prey. Michael rode past and turned to watch. The sight before him was unbelievable. Marcus leapt from the boxes onto the horses. The move should have killed the man, but as if a god of luck had blessed him, he didn’t.

Marcus landed on a man riding his horse. The man didn’t even register what had happened, only being kept alive by the straps on his feet that stopped him from falling off. Marcus broke out of his daze with his body curled around the horse and reached for his waist. He grabbed his knife and cut one of the man’s footstraps. The man’s body flew to the side, knocking one of his comrades, of course, into a random tent.

Marcus moved quickly and grabbed the reins. Pulling himself up, he cut the second strap holding the man. His screams were quickly drowned out, and Marcus took control of the beats he hijacked. Pulling his sword out, he knew he couldn’t stay. Marcus stabbed his blade through the chest of the man to his right and slowly turned that way.

Pulling out the second, smaller sword, he stabbed a second time, pushing past him. Marcus got further away from the middle and, looking to the right, he pulled out another knife. Readying himself, he crouched atop the horse and leapt across, grabbing another rider as he did to try and break his fall. He narrowly missed, flying past the rider and quickly covered his face to protect himself.

Michael couldn’t believe what he had just seen. It was borderline impossible and completely insane. Shaking his head, he wondered if what he saw Marucs do was even real, if anything about the battle right now was real. It was dangerous to get lost in his thoughts, and Michael knew that. Shaking his head, he cleared his mind and refocused on the mission.

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Agusut look at the distant battle across the river. Seeing Michael and his men had entered the Ammary camp, he turned around and got ready to complete his own work. They were at war right now, and Michael’s ridiculous need to appear good was getting in the way.

August smiled to himself. He felt good. War was a great opportunity to gain power. If he had done well and the Commonwealth survived, the King would be forced to give him something. If the Commonwealth lost but he had done well, the new regime would want to get him on its side. He wasn’t the ruling family. He posed no threat to his new overlord.

August didn’t understand why men allowed themselves to become Kings and Emperors. It puts a target on your back. Power was so much easier to use and keep when someone claimed to have more than you. Arriving outside the refugee area, he stopped and looked at his soldier.

"BY ORDER OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE, ALL MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN HAVE BEEN ORDERED TO VACATE THIS AREA IMMEDIATELY! FAILURE TO DO SO WILL BE SEEN AS A CRIME!" One called out, followed by another and then another, until all around the refugee camp, soldiers were giving the order to families who crossed the river.

Some quickly got up and left. They all knew that staying with the Templars was temporary and had a location in mind when they first left their homes. Others heard it was the Duke giving the order and knew they had no power to go against it.

A few remained, and August frowned. His soldiers gave the order a few more times, but still the people refused. It was annoying, but August didn’t mind. He already had a plan in mind if this happened. Looking at his guard, he shook his head. The man nodded an d[pulled dout a wihstle. Blowing on it, the soldier all reacted the same way and pulled out rope from their waists.

Grabbing the refugees, regardless of their ages, they slowly walked them off as the soldiers shouted orders once more. "DUE TO A FAILURE TO FOLLOW ORDERS, ANY WHO REMAIN SHALL BE PLACED UNDER DUE AUGUST LASKA! ALL SHALL BE ALLOWED TO RETURN HOME WITHIN FOUR WEEKS BUT UNTIL THEN WILL WORK FOR THE LASKA DUKEDOM!"

The panic in the peasant’s face was evident when hearing the order, August didn’t care. If they were going to leech off him, they would have to pay him back. He wasn’t a sadist, but managing the supply line switch for his own people would be hard and expensive. In four weeks, that arrest would have paid off all that they leached from him. August turned back to face the distant battle. He had finished his work here and now could only wonder how Michael’s raid was going.