The Ghost's Crusade

XVIII: Drystan

It had taken surprisingly little time to convince Tiernan's regiment that there were homunculi on the field after finding them on the Morvayne-bound road leading out from the Grand Gate. The minute after he had finished his admittedly poorly-worded and hastily uttered explanation Inquisitor Lieutenant Orion, a broad-shouldered man with an Eireness accent thicker than the Warsfenn fog, had divided his forces in two and set them out with orders.

The curly-haired Morray was immediately sent off with the gray-eyed Valois to deliver word to the Inquisitor General some hours ahead of their company. According to Orion half the regiment had traveled with him despite the rains and though it was doubtful that any of them would arrive in time to affect the current battle they would arrive soon enough to either bolster the defensive line he intended to carve out or mop up whatever remained of the homunculi forces. After Morray and Valois galloped off he ordered the bulk of the company to the north with orders to seize Wessinberg's cannons by any means necessary and turn them on the homunculi. Without any further instruction twenty horseman pulled away from the group and turned north, riding off in a wide and staggered formation that allowed them to cut down anything unlucky enough to find itself between them like a massive rake of saber and lance. Orion followed them promptly after handing out brief direction to the man astride the only dray horse in the unit.

The remainder of the regiment, roughly ten seasoned Inquisitors armed with swords, shields, and the scars of previous battles with espiri magic, were ordered to follow Drystan back into the woodlands where Akkali had said the homunculi emerged from and locate their Inquisitor Captain. They all knew Basilides was lurking within, likely commanding his army from the shadows midst what the Inferi really hoped didn't turn out to be a giant fortified killing field that encompassed most of the woodlands. Patient and seasoned warriors all, they were lead by a square-jawed man named Jakobi, a middle-aged Inquisitor Sergeant whose left eye was sewn shut but who gave off the air of an old trickster that rarely missed a thing. For some reason he reminded Drystan of Æbenforth, the Inquisitor who had been something of a fatherly presence during his years of training, though Jakobi himself was a shorter dark-skinned man with a barrel chest and a seemingly permanent smirk on his face. Most of his head and left side looked as though he had suffered through a firestorm, but the burns that twisted his skin didn't seem to render him any less capable of performing his obligations as an Inquisitor.

The group turned their horses towards the treeline and rode off at a half-gallop with Drystan taking up the lead and Jakobi half a length behind and to his left. They broke the treeline at roughly the same time Orion's men collided with the chaos that had become Wessinberg's lines. The last thing Drystan heard through the trees was the cacophony of limbs being severed from bodies by lances and swords while the screams of panicked, dying Wessinberg soldiers echoed off the shattered walls of Baedorn to be slowly smothered in the encroaching fog of night.

"You gentlemen were quite quick to take me at my word," commented Drystan as they slowed to pass through the trees more carefully.

"The Lieutenant and I know which way the wind blows," replied Jakobi. "The Captain left us his notes on what you found in the warrens, so this is exactly what we were expecting. Just... not here. With the Captain vouching for you that's all we need." The Inquisitor chuffed slightly, and Drystan guessed that was what passed for a chuckle on the man's part. "Besides, you were an initiate yourself, weren't you? Drystan the Bastard, thorn in Seneshal Haromir's backside."

Drystan laughed himself. "He doesn't still talk about me, does he?"

"Can't shut him up since that Taskmaster of yours came in and verbally severed his manhood right in front of the General," said Jakobi. He cleared his throat and signaled for his men to dismount. "Sword's length, watch for killing fields."