***Major Anmar***
Anmar cautiously strode out of the town hall. A line of his men in tow, fortunately everybody was now sober enough to walk.
They were greeted by a double bank wall of spearmen, stood at the end of the small garden.
"Throw down your arms. Proceed one at a time!" A stocky looking felinian said to them. Hand resting on the short sword at his hip as he did so.
Anmar removed his sabre and placed it gently on the floor. He then turned to his men and motioned for them to do the same, before raising his arms and proceeding towards the spearmen.
One by one the men behind him followed suit, mirroring his actions and heading forward.
Anmar was quickly frisked before being led into the felinian formation. It was a hollow square, each side flanked by men and women wielding a wide variety of, clearly scavenged, arms and armour. There was a small cluster of Crusaders that had clearly been taken prisoner elsewhere, sat in the middle of the formation.
Clearly any attempt at resistance would be met with harsh retaliation. But Anmar was grateful that Boots had returned these prisoners to him. It would have been easy for him to simply do away with them behind closed doors, Anmar would have been no wiser to the matter.
This was a true show of the man's character and boded well for Anmar's future.
Boots seemed to be true to his word, no harm had befallen them so far. But Anmar was no stranger to deceit. He remained on his guard.
Once the last of his men had trickled through into the formation, a sudden opening in the wall appeared.
"Major, if you would," Boots said, appearing in the gap and motioning for him to follow, "your men will be quite safe, but you need to come with me to the wall."
"Very well." Anmar said, gulping down his nerves as he did so.
He proceeded to follow Boots, giving a quick last glance over his shoulder at Tilbury. The gruff old soldier caught his gaze and gave him a nod.
He hoped he could see him again under less desperate circumstances. Anmar had the feeling that he wouldn't be leaving Fenniton alive.
The chances certainly seemed slim.
He marched along behind Boots and his entourage. He was feeling an overwhelming sense of dread, like he was walking to his doom.
They reached the northern gate in short time. Boots quickly led him up the tower steps and onto the battlements. The crisp morning air hit him for the first time, there was a slight chill, and the smell of morning dew filled his nostrils.
Boots stood beside one of the slits on the wall and looked out across the valley.
Anmar silently followed his example. Gazing out across the land he appreciated it with a different eye to that of an invader.
The gentle sun rolled across the hills and fields. Birds were singing and the sound of the wind rushing through the nearby Drakewoods betrayed the chill in the air before it struck Anmar.
He felt at peace, for the first time in a long time. He had neglected to appreciate natures beauty for what felt like an age and that felt heavy on his soul.
When was the last time he just went for a walk, or sat by a lake in the sun?
He had taken all these things for granted. What a waste.
Why is it he can only see this now when his life is in jeopardy?
Anmar made a quiet promise to himself. That should he survive this ordeal, he would see and experience as much as he could before his time was up.
He smiled bitterly as the wind ruffled his fur.
Below them, to the east. Stood the line upon line of Crusader, all in tight formation. Shields and spears stood ready.
They were prepared for battle, clearly Foley had managed to relay the message effectively. The men were poised to strike, a makeshift ram was being assembled to the rear of their lines. It was to be a do or die assault.
Anmar was struck with a small sense of pride. His soldiers were prepared to risk it all to retrieve their comrades and win the day. As a commander he could ask for no more. Although he doubted that his forces were fully informed as to the number of rebels currently within the walls. They could have made a semi-accurate guess, but still, the fact they were prepared to attack shows great bravery. For all they know there could be an entire company of mercenaries occupying the town.
'They show great courage.' Anmar thought to himself.
Especially considering how hungover most of them must be.
"Well, Major Anmar. Your forces await your instruction," Boots gestured to the troops below, "I hate to be boorish Major, but should you betray me, your face will quickly find the ground, and every soldier in our custody will meet an end most cruel."
Anmar looked into the burning yellow eyes of the enemy commander. He saw no hesitation within them. He did not doubt his words.
Anmar cleared his throat and addressed the men outside the walls. "Hail! Company commanders! It is I, Anmar!"
He could see the sudden jostling of troops, two men rode to the front of the lines, "Sir! Have you been harmed? We stand ready to retake the town!" the voice sounded like that of Monroe's, although it was impossible to tell under all the armour he was wearing.
"I am fine worry not! I have negotiated the release of our troops! I have offered my life in exchange. You must return to Javos and seek advice from the Lieutenant Colonel. If you remain, or attack, my life is forfeit. I gave my word that you would withdraw, we have been outplayed."
Ominous silence followed, the two figures on horseback lent in to one another. Clearly debating the best course of action before coming to a decision.
Anmar felt sweat forming in his palms. He trusted his two Senior Captains but faced with being thrown off the wall, for even the slightest hint of betrayal, can really do a number on one's nerves.
"Sir, we accept. We will make for Javos upon the return of our comrades," he turned momentarily to the man beside him, who nodded, "We give our word."
***Garv***
Garv walked towards the northern edge of the village, leading the young girl by the paw. She was still sniffling but had calmed down significantly. Garv had given her the bracelet that used to belong to her mother. It was broken but saveable, Cassandra held it tightly in her free hand.
They had spent some time in the desolated village but had discovered no other survivors. They had found some meagre supplies that they had requisitioned for their journey.
Garv had to admit, he had no idea what he was doing.
He didn't know if he had done the right thing. But the way he saw it, he couldn't destroy the hopes and dreams of a child. He knew she would find out the truth eventually, he was even prepared to tell he himself, should the situation call for it. But he hoped he could help her be better equipped to deal with it, when the time came.
She might end up hating him.
But Garv could live with that.
As they left the village perimeter towards the main road Garv suddenly stopped in his tracks and pulled the girl back from the road.
"Magar! The Crusaders are marching this way!"
"Frogs! Get to the buildings, hurry!" Magar barked decisively, pointing at the ruins.
They quickly dashed back from the road a safe distance. Seeking refuge in a nearby, semi-destroyed, shack.
They peered out from between the scorched panels.
The sound of marching men and trotting horses filled the air.
Sure enough, a large procession of soldiers marched past on the road. Dust and muck being kicked up in their wake.
What on Arca was going on?
Garv looked at Magar, it was clear that he was equally confused. They'd had nowhere near enough time to strip the entire town and relocate the populace. Something else was happening.
They were leaving.
But why?
***Boots***
Boots stood atop the wall with Anmar. The prisoners had been released and returned to their comrades. They watched as the slow procession of troops gradually faded into the distance.
There were no obvious signs of betrayal.
Major Anmar was watching along beside him, clearly getting cold in the morning breeze.
Boots didn't care though. How anybody could be cold whilst being fully dressed was a mystery to him. Besides, he wanted to watch them leave for himself.
He followed them with his eyes carefully, watching and waiting. He continued his vigil long after they had disappeared over the horizon.
He was satisfied they were gone, for now.
"Come with me." He grunted to Anmar, who nodded in response.
They headed back down from the battlements and marched back towards the square.
"What do you intend to do with me?" Anmar spoke up from his side.
"That remains to be seen, we will have to set aside some time to talk. There is much I wish to learn from you." Boots stated flatly, catching the look of dread on Anmar's face, "Oh get that out of your head Major. Nobody is going to torture you, I told you I would treat you well did I not?"
Anmar nodded, a bit of relief coming into his eyes.
"You will be our guest for the time being. If you behave yourself nothing bad will come to you from me."
"I appreciate that, Sir Boots."
"I must leave you now in the capable hands of Roman," Boots said as he waved Roman over, "See that the Major is looked after, find him a room with a bed and assign him a guard. He is not to be mistreated."
Roman nodded his understanding and led Anmar away.
Boots was genuine with his promises. He deplored the type of people who could deceive with a smile and stab others in the back.
Now he had a lot on his plate.
"Good work leads to more work." he grumbled to himself as he headed through the town. Finally arriving at the square.
He found Gerald sitting on one of the carts, dozing off against his walking stick. He was going through a perpetual cycle of, sitting up straight, slowly leaning forward, a big head nod followed by a quick snap to attention.
Gods he was old.
Boots walked over and calmly placed a hand on his shoulder, startling the old geezer,
"Whajafrazzlemyta-Boots! Whadya want?" Gerald mumbled, one eye drifting horizontally, significantly more than the other one.
"I need to set up a meeting with any town elders or people of influence. I was hoping to use the town hall as the meeting place." He paused for a moment in thought, "Actually would you be able to show me around the hall at some point? There may be something of use to us in there."
Gerald sighed and stood to his feet, "I'll do my best, shouldn't be difficult to arrange. You might want to give everybody here a heads up first though. People are starting to wonder what is going on."
Boots looked around at the people. They were starting to gather upon the sight of him, there were whispers and anxious glances. No doubt rumour had spread of the Crusaders withdrawal.
Time to get everybody on the same page.
Boots hopped up onto the cart to address the people.
"People of Fenniton! Gather round!"
The chattering in the audience stopped. Those asleep were awoken by their friends. All eyes were on Boots.
"Firstly, I would like to say; for tonight's efforts; well done! Not only have we retaken the town, but we have now also managed to persuade the Crusaders, to withdraw!"
There was a sudden hush of surprise.
"Frog yeah!" Fiona whooped from the back of the crowd. Setting off a chain-reaction of cheers!
Boots allowed himself a smile at the scene before him. People were hugging, kissing, crying and jumping for joy! It was quite a sight to behold.
After allowing it to go on for a while, Boots held up his arms and commanded silence from the crowd.
"I know we are all excited, but we still need to talk about what comes next. We can't afford to drop our guard. We could still be betrayed; they could still return."
A few of the smiles faded, replaced with looks of sensibility.
"It's not all doom and gloom, the Crusaders should have gone back to Javos, a trip which takes five days, once there they will give their report and then mobilise with a larger force. Even if they get it all done in one day, which I doubt. We will still have a further five days."
He saw a few tired faces counting fingers on paws.
"That's eleven days minimum, that we have bought ourselves. We have time to plan for what comes next, we have some breathing space. To that end, I would like any town elders or nominated speakers to come to the town hall tonight at sunset to discuss the future. Get some rest and some food, discuss ideas amongst yourselves and put them forward. I would like there to be no more than twelve representatives. So, if you have an idea or a burning question, make sure you give it to one of them. Gerald will oversee the nominees." Boots gestured to Gerald, who gave a short wave to the audience.
"That's all I have for you for now, I will address you again when a decision has been reached."
Boots hopped down from his cart and turned to Gerald, "Let's go check out the town hall."
Gerald gave him a wry smile, "Come on then, before I'm swamped with work."