***Major Anmar***
Anmar paused at the entranceway to the town hall. Collecting himself with a deep sigh and rubbing his temples once more. Before stepping out into the town square.
His Senior-Captains had elected to use the town square as a rally point for the troops, so they could get organised before departing. As Anmar had ordered them to. It was, unfortunately, a time-consuming process, organising two companies of soldiers. Even more so when they've had a skinful of mead.
As he had predicted, his men were in no fit state for battle. Soldiers were running around trying to get into formation for their angry non-commissioned officers. People were missing pieces of uniform, belts, helmets, the occasional boot.
Men swayed from side to side in place. One man was throwing up, another was being supported by the men either side of him.
If the Lieutenant-Colonel was here, they would all be in for a whipping. Anmar included.
The sight of a familiar face making its way over to him did make him feel slightly better.
Sergeant-Major John Tilbury, a warrant officer, second class, was bustling his way over with his small retinue of messengers in tow. He was a stocky man with a gruff exterior, his curly grey fur gave his age away. But, he was a very reliable man, exactly the sort a Major like himself needed in order to get the job done. Be it discipline, requisitioning supplies, organising the Bi-company non-commissioned officers, securing and commanding the bi-company headquarters in battle, or any other administrative details beneath the notice of Anmar. Tilbury was your man. It was his expertise that allowed Anmar to focus on command and planning. If Anmar was the helm, Tilbury was the rudder, working beneath the waves to get the job done.
They made a good team, and despite the fact Anmar was a noble, and Tilbury was a low-born. Anmar considered him his friend.
Tilbury trotted over and gave a crisp salute, "Sir, so far we have one hundred and ninety-eight on parade an-' Tilbury disguised a burp with a cough before continuing, "s'cuse me, twenty-eight on duties and thirty-six un-accounted for. Making for two hundred and sixty-two total sir."
Anmar nodded, it was better than he'd hoped for, truth be told.
"Thank you Sergeant-Major," Anmar stated before turning to one of the messengers, "Private, get over to Captain Fredrick and tell him; he and his riders are to depart straight away and scout the northern road towards Javos. Prioritise getting ahead of the fleeing prisoners or horseback and cutting them off."
"Sir!" the man said with a crisp salute before departing.
Anmar turned his attention to the remaining two messengers. "I want you to go to the company commanders, Monroe will follow up behind Captain Fredrick along the road to Javos and Lucas will head over the bridge to the northwest and search the area there."
Anmar cleared his throat before continuing, "Once content they are to re-establish the prison camp by the main gate. We will search the woods to the south in the morning. They have five minutes to prepare, then I want them out of here."
The two men saluted and headed over to relay the instructions.
Anmar looked at the scene before him, he still wasn't content with the state of his men, "John, do me a favour and round up the men who are totally inebriated, they will be more of a hindrance if we send them out now."
"Aye Sir, do you want them disciplined?"
Anmar considered for a moment, "No, we told them they could drink after all. I do want to see the idiot who was left in charge of the prison camp tonight though. I'll leave the punishment in your hands, bring him to me after all this is over and we will judge his excuses together."
"As you wish, I'll round up the drunkards now then," Tilbury said as he turned to leave, after a few steps he caught himself and turned back, "Oh, sir, before I forget, word is the portcullis on the main gate has malfunctioned, it's locked shut, I've already briefed the Captains, so they know not to use it."
Anmar raised an eyebrow, "When did this happen?"
"A couple hours ago I believe, maybe an hour. It was Captain Foley who told me sir, you should ask him."
"Thank you John, that will be all." Anmar said noncommittally, stroking his chin in thought.
"No problem Boss." Tilbury said with a half wave before disappearing off in pursuit of the medically incapable.
A gate malfunctioning just before an escape attempt.
Could it be coincidence?
What purpose would it serve?
Anmar looked up as the first of his troops departed towards the northern gate. Something didn't feel quite right.
It's time to find a map.
Anmar turned sharply on the spot and headed into the town hall towards his makeshift quarters.
He could hear the sounds quieting down outside as he searched his riding bag for his map. Most of his men outside had already left by the time he found what he was looking for. Apart from the huddle of blind drunks that could barely stand.
He sat down in the chair beside his bed. After scrutinising the map for a while, Anmar's initial feelings were that it didn't make sense to sabotage one gate. Especially considering that the northern gate was actually the fastest way to get to the road that they had seen the prisoners fleeing down.
The main gate would only prevent them from getting to the prisoner camp quickly. It wasn't really that much of a hinderance.
But still.
Something didn't feel right.
Maybe he was thinking about it the wrong way?
What did he know?
He knew that the prisoners had been seen fleeing up the northern road after a massive break out.
Captain Foley saw them fleeing and reported back immediately.
The main gate had malfunctioned.
The escapees had about an hour and a half head start.
His men were now hot in pursuit.
Anmar shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He felt like he was missing something really obvious.
Wait a minute!!
How did Foley see the prisoners fleeing?
He was at the main gate, which presumably had malfunctioned by then, so the portcullis had to be down.
He must have seen them from some five-hundred metres away, at night!
How could he have done that?
He never said how he saw them from such distance!
Could he be a traitor?
No that makes no sense, who in their right mind would help some felinians, its not as if they could pay you. It didn't fit his character either, he was new to his Captaincy but had an exemplary record so far.
This was something else.
"Argh, curse this alcohol!!" Anmar rubbed his temples vigorously, trying to force stronger thoughts.
They must have been doing something so obvious that they could be seen from five-hundred metres away.
Lanterns?
Lights?
Fires?
It's the only thing that makes sense!
They must have been using lanterns or torches to see the road!
What idiots!
He felt himself relax a little, but still not quite fully.
Are they really that stupid?
Why would they flee towards Javos in the first place?
Does that make any logical sense?
Anmar looked back at the map.
If he disregarded the sighting of the prisoners as a ruse. How would that change his approach to this search?
Anmar started to get a very ominous feeling indeed.
Something unpleasant dawned on him, something very unpleasant indeed.
He grabbed his map and flew out of the room, heading back down to the entrance to the town hall and into the square.
It was empty save the few drunken stragglers and Tilbury's retinue.
"Pox!"
"Sir?"
"John, anyone who can walk, grab a weapon and come with me, I've got a really horrible feeling about this."
"About what sir?"
"We need to check that gate, where is Foley?"
"I believe he's at the northern gate sir."
"I need him here, now."
"Aye sir," Tilbury nodded at one of his messengers who quickly ran off in search of the Captain.
"I really hope I'm wrong about this, but there is a chance, not an ignorable one, that we have been deceived."
Tilbury frowned slightly, pondering for a moment, "But by who sir?"
"I don't know," Anmar shook his head, "I know how it sounds but there is a possibility, that there is an organised, unseen enemy plotting against us."
"Bu-"
"If I'm right John, and I hope to the gods I'm not, we have fallen for a sinister deception, hook line and sinker. We have to check that gate."
Tilbury considered his words, carefully adjusting his armour straps, "I'll follow where you lead sir, I hope you're wrong as well." he smiled, "But there is nothing wrong with being thorough, the blow you don't see is the one that kills you."
Anmar nodded his appreciation, "Right, we can't afford to wait any longer, how many have we got?"
"Just eight men sir, four of mine and four that can hold a spear."
"It'll have to do, let's get moving."
With that they headed off down the street towards the south east corner of the square.
Anmar couldn't afford to wait for Foley, his input would have been able to clear or confirm some of his suspicions. It didn't matter though, if they acted quickly they could ensure the gates security and if needed close the other gates to protect themselves.
If there was a plot, he would crush it now.
He didn't get to where he was in the military by being incompetent. He had a long and genuine service history. He wasn't one of those aristocratic nobles who just used the army as a steppingstone for status. He got to where he was on his own merits, not by greasing the paws of the higher ups.
Many thoughts ran through his head.
Could this be another nation seeking to secure a foothold?
Taking advantage of the circumstances here?
The first stage of an invasion?
Subterfuge to disrupt Raxia's economy?
Could it be a band of mercenaries?
Could it be his mind playing tricks on him?
Only time would tell.
They reached the corner of the square and were afforded a view of the gate in the distance.
It was quite a long way to the gate, around eight-hundred metres at least.
Anmar and his party of men briskly moved onwards, hastening their steps.
As they got closer Anmar began to make out more details. The portcullis was down, as expected and it appeared as though there were two sentries still there on watch.
All good news so far.
At around the four-hundred metre point, the sound of trotting hooves came from behind them.
Anmar glanced over his shoulder and saw Foley catching up to them on horseback.
He drew level with them swiftly pulling on his reigns as he did so, "Sir, you wanted to see me?"
"Walk and talk," Anmar said, motioning to keep moving, "tell me, how did you see the prisoners earlier?"
"There were lights on the road, the guards were shouting after them."
Anmar sighed, his first suspicion confirmed, "Which guards?"
"The guards at the gate sir."
"The guards stood next to you?"
Foley contemplated before nodding, "Yes sir it was, now that you mention it."
"Not the guards at the camp?"
"Well not straight away sir…"
Anmar felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, this did not sit well with him at all, "Tell me of the gate Foley."
"Wh-" Foley stammered.
Anmar stopped suddenly, grabbing the reigns of Foleys horse, "Was there anything suspicious to you, anything out of place while you were there? Anything at all?"
"Well, er-"
"DAMN IT MAN, SPEAK!"
"One of the men was quite tall, I hadn't seen him at the brief and his uniform didn't fit very well, I was going to tell him off for his presentation, but I never got the chance. The escape was underway, so I returned immediately to find you!"
Abject horror filled Anmar's body, even Tilbury looked mortified.
"His uniform-" Anmar was cut off by the clunking mechanical sound of the gate being raised. He turned his head slowly to confirm his fears.
"Ah, looks like they fixed-" Foley started, before he too, looked mortified at what he saw.
The portcullis was being raised, turn by turn.
But that was not the cause for their alarm.
Behind the portcullis stood a solid, thirty metre wide, wall of felinians, with spears.
At the front of this wall.
Was an especially mean looking one with a hammer.
Anmar yanked Foleys horse by its straps, "Foley, listen to me,….FOLEY!"
Foley snapped out of his trance and faced Anmar.
"The town is lost; you MUST get the word to the company commanders to come and re-take it. NOW GO!" he bellowed as he forcefully smacked the behind of Foley's horse.
"Sir, there is too many."
"I know John, damn I know."
The portcullis was high enough now that the felinians could start pouring in, several darted into the towers flanking the main gate.
"What are they…?"
Some dark shapes darted along the wall to their left. More could be seen running along the wall to the right.
The main force started marching towards them.
"The gates John, the gates!" realisation dawned on Anmar, "they seek to trap us. Then defend from the walls."
"Boss, we have to move now!" Tilbury shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a run.
Anmar narrowed his eyes at the mob. Bitterness welling up inside him.
"Bastards."