Bending the solders minds had been easy. They couldn't handle his memories of the border. Bait was needed for tonight's trap. Two broken men remained in the kitchen. The walking hive had been the last to be broken, or at least questioned he had been broken before the mage even bothered trying to assault his mind. The mage had embedded the queen bee with one of his blood stones then bound the solder to her will. The walking hive still walked slowly but he moved with a little more purpose than before.
The interrogations had revealed much about Sergeant of Arms Maxim Blunt and his orange coats. Most of the Orange coats were bandits drilled into shape by the Sargent of Arms. The Sergeant seemed to be a loan to Lord Brand from her majesty to train a battalion of prison inmates into solders. He had brought with him 20 other men who claimed to be royal grenadiers. They had arrived wearing Yellow coats but by order of the Lord had switched to the orange ones. The roomer around that was that since the army was not her majesties it could be claimed they were a bandit army if they failed to take Yourz. The knights where a military order who where in decline and the Calvary was made up of noble bastards and sons who would inherit nothing.
Some how the Sergeant had beaten the prisoners into a proper army. They marched in time to drums, followed orders without question, and could load and fire muskets in times deemed satisfactory by the old solders. They had been more than a match for the yellow coats in the city. The Sergeant had praised them for their spirit and discipline in an exceedingly long fight. He had awarded each group of 100 men a banner with a flag and a commendation on that flag. He had declared the only time it was acceptable to lose on was when every man it represented was dead. He assured his men if a banner were lost no man would live with the shame of being without it.
Tonight, Albie would steal the patrols banner. The orange coats would fight desperately to get it back. They feared the Sergeant of Arms. At least the men he had broken had used their fear of the man as their last resort before they had been broken. The mage had felt it. A very strange sense of fear and respect that both shook his bones and made him feel a foot taller at the same time. It was a beautiful emotion that stood no chance against the most vicious of hatred and the suffering of 100 deaths.
Albie called to the apple spiders. They came through the window flooding the room in hairy legs and eyes. They looked at their creator and one stepped onto his hand. The mage drew his knife and cur himself. The spider fed on his blood and in its body a blood stone began to form. The mage used his power and the spider grew to a monster only possible when magic was running in its veins. Its body alone was the size of a horse. The creature would exhaust its life before the sun set tomorrow. Tonight, it would be the best trapper the city had ever seen. The day-old spider was too young to have a will strong enough to challenge the mage. It submitted to his control readily. The smaller spiders fled out the window.
Albie gathered his children on the first floor of the hospital the killer wasps and the walking hive, the dog sized rats, the pail lurkers, and the horse spider gathered behind him as he stepped out of the hospital. The lawn was full of blooming flowers. The garden hid most of the fertilizer. An occasional piece of orange fabric could be seen in the stems. The night was young the monsters were awake and on the move.