Erec stared at the silent monsters in the distance; the sun burned their flesh, leaving their seared skin with boils. So unnaturally pale it almost seemed translucent. They were vaguely humanoid but with four massive arms and trunk-like legs.
As Silent ones usually did, when not trying to kill, they stood utterly still without even twitching in a lot of asphalt, hidden among rusty cars.
Was it by happenstance they were in this town? A place directly between them and their path toward the main army. Even going so far as to be woven inside the ruins of an old-world parking lot, with a field of rusted-out cars facing a giant billboard. Just on the edge of the abandoned town.
Erec hid in the small building, taking in the army that’d caught the corner of his eye. Rather devious, and a scout had a chance of mistaking them. But his eyes had gotten better at this sort of thing over the past few weeks. Otherwise, it’d have been easy to miss them hidden in the sea of old-world junk.
This was the first real threat out of everything he’d faced in the wasteland since taking charge. Sure, the monster before might’ve killed him if he couldn’t power through it, but this. This here was a real danger. If he ran against the army of Silent ones and died, he wouldn’t be the only one to face the consequences. His people would be alone, demoralized, and sitting prey for the White Stag.
They barred the way back to safety.
We could take the long way. Erec considered how long it might take, a couple of days to go around at enough distance to avoid.
It might be a small price to pay, but his people were getting antsy, a level of nervousness that only ramped up as the possessed among them acted oddly. Over the last two days, they stopped putting up a fight. Now their fellow humans were damn near catatonic, and the new ease of moving them was undercut by the nervousnesses their compliance elicited.
His instincts screamed at him. Something was in the air, and if he tried to take down an enemy, it made the most sense to attack before they could regroup.
There was still some connection between the Stag and his people. How much information did it get from them?
Options. So many options. And as the one making most of the calls, whatever he and his friends chose would hang on their heads. They might avoid this town, but what if this led to an attack on open ground by these creatures? An attack like that might be brutal to counter with their diminished fighting power, and on neutral territory, it didn’t offer any tactical advantage to resist an assault.
His orders were to return the group safely to the army and avoid engaging the enemy.
But they might use this landscape, the broken-down town, to their advantage. Streets and buildings could become choke points, funnel enemies, and limit their freedom with those limbs. They might split their group and retain their own possessed far away—deny more potential enemies should the worst occur. That was if they fought here and now.
It came down to a simple question. Should he obey the word of his orders and leave enemies at their back? Enemies he didn’t know the limits of.
Already, the White Stag kept taking advantage of his superiors, underestimating it. To him, the damn thing didn’t do anything without some intention. With that in mind, the most likely answer was that this Silent force in this town had a purpose.
Either to ambush or delay Erec from returning to the army.
Waiting wasn’t an option; the tension was too high already.
Is my instinct to fight because of the beast? Erec let the question sit. How much of his thought was colored by the simple desire to kill these things? He craved to cleave his axe into their flesh and wanted to know what color their blood was. There was a streak of that in him now, always.
Damn, near alarming.
But he couldn’t let that instinct influence a decision that had such a significant impact on others.
Was it right to trust himself on such a vital call?
The sun sunk below the horizon before Erec pulled away from his secure scouting position. His mind still turned over the possibilities, but one thing was clear, they had to be decisive.
— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —
“What do you think is best?” Boldwick’s smooth voice carried over the radio. The static far lessened than before, and the closer he got, the clearer his voice became.
Garin and the rest of his friends lounged nearby. Jefferson was the only Knight not invited to their discussions; it was better not to have him involved if they could help it.
“It would be a massive mistake to ignore them. The White Stag keeps catching us by surprise because we wait for it to make its move; if we move first, then it takes that away from it. We know it wants to kill us, so for everything it does, we should be sure it had that goal in mind.” Erec marveled over the conviction of his own words. All of the hesitation and worry in his heart on the trip back seemed to bleed away to resolve.
Hearing Boldwick’s voice made things clear. It steeled the part of him wavering inside.
“If you rule on Strength, you need to show it to those following you, or it all falls apart,” Garin commented; for such a discussion, his friend was relatively unphased. “But do you think we can take these things on?”
“I can’t say for sure. It’ll be a difficult battle, and I don’t expect everything to go our way. I believe it’s possible to use the terrain and make them fight us in a beneficial way; if we start the fight, they can’t simply sit there.” Erec said.
“Impressive, already considering the environment for fighting. Here’s a thing to consider, however, Erec. In the middle of the battle, people will need a voice to listen to. You can’t fight at full capacity and give orders, yet they’ll need someone to give commands. So, who there will make your Lieutenant?” Boldwick’s voice crashed into Erec from the radio.
Yeah. They’d be screwed if they relied on Erec to call the shots in the middle of the fight. He could charge them into one, but from there, it was a lost cause.
He was a loose weapon; an axe meant to tear apart their enemies without a single second of hesitation, a being that fed off the chaos of a fight and thrived. An anomaly to warfare. Others needed direction, encouragement, and a leader able to make the calls of where they should move or how to adapt. War meant that any plans set in stone were prone to crumble to dust.
Erec looked between his friends. All of them had their strengths and weaknesses, but the person he wanted at his side in a fight wasn’t even a question.
“Garin, can you do it?” Erec called, and his friend tilted his head. “There isn’t anyone else I trust as much as you. You might not have my Strength, Colin’s skill with Mysticism, or prayer…”
“Wow, really hyping me up.” Garin shook his head with a laugh.
“But you’re the best. Can you fill in the spot while I fight? If you can’t, we’ll have to figure out—“
“Of course, I can. Trust in me.” Garin gave him a thumbs up.
Erec let out a deep breath of relief.
Colin would’ve royally fucked the command structure, leading to unnecessary tension within the rank. He couldn't rely on Olivia. Not that he thought the girl would do anything against him here on the field, but he needed to know more about her and the house she represented before putting any genuine trust in her.
A plan for that had formed in his head, but it wasn’t anything he could look into while they were in the wasteland. And a lack of trust between him and the second in command would only be bad.
“Sounds like you have the basics of it sorted out.” There was a long pause on the other side of the line from Boldwick. “…It’s always an odd feeling when your students put themselves out there, but pride is always attached to that. I approve this engagement, Erec Audentia. Prove what you're made of to the rest of the Verdant Oak and me. Take the battle to them, then return to our army.”
The communication cut off after that. Proud. Boldwick was proud of him?
“So, what’re we going to do with the impudent Knight Errant?” Colin called from the side, shattering the surprising warmth.
“We set him with the possessed along with a handful of the more loyal soldiers.” Erec said. They couldn’t trust Jefferson in the middle of a fight, yet if he was held in reserve with the possessed, it would make use of his status and his Armor were the worst to occur.
There wasn’t any way to be completely certain it was the correct call, but it made the most sense to him. Now… It just came to phrasing and communicating this plan to the rest of the soldiers, scoping out the battlefield, and then picking the right time to strike.
Then came the simple part. Fighting.
Out of everything, that left him feeling the least nervous.