“Thrust!” With a roar, the line surged forward behind the blow and impaled the last few bugs.

  “Deploy forward, forty feet.” Ethan calmly directed, already waiving the hundred-odd Labori forward while a rear guard set up behind them. Carapaces were stripped, the meat was chunked and dumped into large baskets and all of it done far faster than those first few times. Experience told.

  The lot of it would be carried from the rift at the next cycling of the portal. They had neither the time, space nor guards to handle it here.

  The Labori packed it up with good humor. Well rested and not overburdened. The last cycle hadn’t been that long ago. Ethan hid a sigh. He really could have used the extra 30 men he was forced to send with them as a guard detail, but he had little choice. There was too much value in each trip to send only Labori with it.

  For that matter, he’d prefer to send more men to match the value! Noble honor was all well and good, but few people were truly resolute in the face of big enough benefits.

  He shook off the familiar thought. It wasn’t likely, despite his fears. Having invoked the Emperor’s code and publicly offered hospitality, the cost for betrayal was just too high.

  Even for a desperate woman. Especially for a desperate one. It wasn’t money that would save her. It was publicly reclaiming that honor.

  Either way, right or wrong, he had little choice. He didn’t have the men to deal with both her and the rift.

  He glanced to the side, and jerked his head at Quintus. The man posted to the side, accompanied by his downright twitchy decade of Hastati on guard detail. Once burned and all that.

  The tunnel ahead, past a dozen bug bodies, split rather abruptly. The right hand was a mostly straight shot before expanding into a green and blue mushroom-spotted cavern.

  The left curved gently before disappearing behind a bend. A bend with a few conspicuous bugs loitering in front of it.

  “First guard rotation set to, the rest, take a load off.” He offered. Waiting his turn as the large water skins were passed forward.

  “Sir Leofsige?”

  “The caverns a big one, well-guarded. The left smells stale. No air movement. No plants. A dead end. Most likely.”

  “Still have to clean it out.” Conner spat before taking another small squirt from the skin.

  “True. You want the blocking force then Conner?”

  “Might as well. Set up in the split.” He opined.

  “Once we push forward enough.” Ethan agreed. “Sir Guile, take the front. I don’t like leaving however many bugs are in that cavern behind us so let’s push this fast and brutal.”

  “My specialty Milord.” He grinned, shrugging his massive shoulders back with a twisting pop that sounded like a bowstave being bent.

  “Sirs Leofsige, Andrew. Stay with Sir Conner. If they sally, it might get hairy. Send word and retreat towards us, don’t try to he-man it.”

  “Teach your mother to suck eggs.” Conner muttered under his breath before letting his voice rise to something the men could hear. “You go right ahead, Milord. We’ll still be here when yous get back.” Ethan hid a wince, just as well Rainer wasn’t here. He was a right hen about slang.

  “Good enough.” He gave the men another five minutes, enough time to regain the stamina lost from skill usage and relieve a bit of mental tension. They had been at this since first light. And it was now well past lunch.

  A good lunch, it had been too! But his stomach was starting to remind him as their was such a thing as supper.

  “On your Feet and Tighten Up.” He bellowed the last bit, deliberately. Keeping a weather eye on the caverns' opening. If that little amount of noise could get them attacked, it was better to set it off now.

  Regrettably, little happened. The bugs to the left twitched a bit, but quickly settled down.

  He waved a hand and the men stepped to with a will. Most turning to the left while five decades under Conner turned and made a plug to the right, the Labori with their supplies and loot hurried toward to stay between the two formations.

  They barely made 50 yards down the tunnel before they crossed that familiar line, and the bugs went from agitated to all in.

  A few bugs at the bend became forty moving at a horse's gallop towards them.

  “Brace!” They came the same old way… Ethan hummed, offering an order here and there to tighten up a forming gap, or to rotate men in or out. But more out of professional perfectionism than any real need. The bugs went down quickly, and to little effect.

  Then forward again. Every two hundred feet or so, they had to brace a new pack, from 40 to 80, but in the tight confines of the tunnel, the only purpose they fulfilled was to keep his scouts close.

  That and a bit of wear and tear on weapons and gear. But expected wear and little tear. The band counted spear staves by the mule load for a reason. Replacement heads were a different thing entirely, with increased tier sarrisa heads the rule among the band, not the exception.

  Then they passed another bend and a dead end stared back at them.

  A dead end, and a large stone coffer. He smiled, offering a silent thank you to any deities or rift entities that felt like listening. Who didn’t like loot? “Sir Guile, why don’t you see what gifts the rift has for us?” As one of the highest tier, the most heavily armored, and possibly the toughest defensively, he was a good man to test the waters. He’d survive any traps. Not that those were common. Still, uncommon wasn’t unheard of. He made a note to keep Leo with them going forward.

  “Feels like my birthday!” He called out, slipping past the men and striding easily forward. If you didn’t know the man, you’d think he was oblivious to the danger. He wasn’t. He just trusted himself enough to deal with whatever came.

  And come it did. A section of the floor collapsed while Guile lightly leapt, stepping onto the wall and throwing himself forward. Landing gracefully and unbothered, he kept the same pace the remaining dozen feet. Then paused to whistle as he gave the coffer a once-over.

  It was positively covered in full-depth carvings. Solid stone removed to leave fully three-dimensional miniatures behind in layers.

  Around the lip, blocks of spear and shield-bearing humans hoisted umbrals above them on long spears. The elegant images of the band were detailed enough to pick out individuals. Even the standard had that little something that spoke of character, not just the surface look.

  But below that layer, things changed rapidly. Umbrals impaled by ballista bolts and crushed by onager stones in a pile, assaulted from range from all sides.

  Then a bloody battle on top of a ring of earth, waves of levies and lightly armored men swarming, bug like, over a feeble number of bugs, but dying in droves to do it.

  The bottom ring was something else altogether.

  A small group of soldiers, armored, shielded and bearing maces and spears, a plate-armed knight at their head, ambushed by insects falling from the walls and emerging from the earth in waves to pull them under.

  Ethan gave out a soft sigh. Grateful that few indeed had the mental stats he did, and the perception benefits they brought. No good would come from speaking this truth. And a great deal of harm. He said a quiet prayer for the dead, May Kiron have mercy on their failure. They died on their feet.

  Guile, unbothered by Ethan's scruples, just grabbed the heavy lid and, with a grunt, pushed it off to the side. His hands soon disappeared inside and came up holding a glowing green core the size of his doubled fists above his head.

  A Small Monster Core. Not bad a bad reward at all from a Minor Rift. Only a greater demon had a core that size, and while they’d killed a great number of those, they’d also used up a fair number to fuel the healing rituals and other useful spells.

  “Alright, do we need to rig up a bridge?” Ethan offered, not raising his voice.

  “Don’t bother, Milord.” Guile shouted back, smiling as he measured the pit with his eyes. He exploded into motion immediately after, nearly a blur after only two steps, the core tucked under one arm like a sportsman and lept!

  Crossing 15 feet to easily stick the landing, before strolling forward at a walk. Easily and with a good foot and a half of margin between him and the edge. A walk that ended with men clapping him on the back in a good-natured mix of congratulations and adulations.

  Ethan shook his head with a small smile. The man was a hopeless show off, but damn but could he show it off with style! He gave him a few more moments to bask in his victory, then ordered, “About, Face!”

  Conner was waiting, and he really didn’t want the man to have to face a full cavern of bugs by himself. The narrow confines of the tunnel would help, but still.

  They marched back up the tunnel and Ethan generously ignored the constant jokes, bickering and good-natured heckling they tossed about. Guile wasn’t quite there with the knightly prestige and reserve, but that didn’t surprise anyone who knew him.

  He had other knightly virtues to make up for it. Mostly the one hanging from his sword belt. Ethan coughed gently, hiding a smile.

  It wasn’t that long of a path and they caught back up with the blocking force in a reasonably short amount of time. The intact and untested blocking force, he was happy to see.

  But there was something there. A germ of an idea… About tight tunnels and the advantage of sarissa blocks that couldn’t be flanked…

  He smiled and called Conner over for a quick discussion. It might just work.

  Just so long as its main contributor could pull it off.

  “No, Milord.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Leo repeated. “Figure it like cavalry. Tier 1 horses. I’m fast, not that fast. I’ll not outrun them over that distance. Not without more of a head start than I’m like to get.”

  “Damn.” It would have made it simpler, but it wasn’t a complete loss. “How far can you get. Without too much risk, Sir Leofsige.”

  The man gave the tunnel a sharp look, then shrugged. “Three quarters of what yous see? A bit shy if yous wants it on the safe side.”

  “I do. Trading you for this rift, it’d be a straight loss, Sir Leo.” He reminded the man, his voice quiet. “Be careful, yes? And don’t kick it off till we’re in place.”

  He just smirked and trotted away, fading into the background as soon as Ethan looked away. He took his main force, around sixty-five men, and marched them down the tunnel. Not bothering to minimize the noise. Only stopping them when he saw a rather obvious line of fist sized rocks lined up across the path.

  “Ready Lads.” He spoke calmly, glancing out over the forest of spears and the front wall of shields that faced it. A face with a rather obvious opening one man wide. “Remember, poke, don’t get stuck in.” Then the tunnel came alive, a river of brown and ivory pouring towards them, silent except for the tippety tapping of six times that many insectoid legs.

  “Through.” Leo’s voice barked, a good 10 yards before the insects got to them.

  “Close up!” Ethan barked, gave the men a beat to answer, then “Brace!” Golden light outlined the men once more as they took the rolling smash of impact and returned it in spades.

  Heavy bodies moving at the speed of a charging horse slammed into the skill-reinforced long spears and died on them. The bodies temporarily blocking the next rank.

  “Back step! One.” He called, and the men rocked backward. Pausing to take the next charge as it stumbled over the bodies of the first. Then “Two.” Doing it again. And again. Retreat under pressure, without panic, without letting the formation get disrupted.

  A man went down as a spear snapped, its broken end striking his helmet like the clapper for a bell. He was grabbed and passed back to the Labori, even as one of the reserves took his place. Then they took another. Knights and officers barking orders and darting forward to reinforce where necessary, but always giving ground. Carefully. Steadily.

  Then he felt the walls give way to his right, and smiled. “Five more and hold! One.” They stepped back. “Two.” The opening was partially cleared and Ethan blessed the lack of individuality in his opponents. Acting as a block, they didn’t react nor investigate, just kept on coming.

  “Three.” A step. “Four. A step, two more men dragged from the line with haste, while others even more quickly filled their place.

  “Five. Stand and Brace!” Not nearly as effective without the full weight of a running charge coming, but the buff to stability still helped. Buoying them and making footing firm.

  “Charge!” Conners voice stuck like a physical blow, and the wave of spears that struck into the right flank turned bugs into shish kebabs. The lighter armor and armpit joints Guile had pointed out hours before were ruthlessly abused, while a much smaller Hastati contingent pushed out shields to secure the corner and chopped at the vulnerable tails and knee joints with their wide bladed short spears.

  Caught between two directions of assault, the bugs didn’t panic, but they didn’t respond for several moments either. The guiding intelligence didn’t speak and so they continued with their previous orders, and died in droves.

  Finally, they reacted and the force split along the diagonal between them. Half turning to hit Conners troops, the rest still pushing towards Ethans.

  It was an answer. But not a good one. Without space to build up momentum, they faired quite poorly against Conner’s entrenched sarissa blocks, and even worse, held at a distance by those spears, they half blocked the main passage and the momentum that could have hit Ethan’s.

  “Thrust!” He barked. And the front ranks collapsed again, grinding the corner, where spears from two directions overwhelmed bugs who could only block or parry from one.

  “Ware! Elite incoming!” Leo’s voice barked out. Snapping Ethans head up. Barely visible behind the waves of bugs was a much larger black form. A head and a half taller than its lesser brethren, but even wider and longer than that would imply. If the normal umbrals were large, fat-bottomed men on six legs, this was a centaur. It’s lower body as massive as the upper.

  And massive definitely was the word. Like an out-of-control wagon barreling towards them. If that wagon had a carapace thick enough for a fixed fortification instead of a suit of armor. It took one glance and Ethan knew. Not even braced spears would stop that!

  “Leo, Andrew. Blind it!” Bigger head meant bigger eyes, and with those two…

  An arrow flew out immediately, skewering an eye and a wave passed through the umbrals. Their carapaces outlined and glittering in a glowing red. A Berserk skill of some kind, Ethan judged, and was quickly proven right as bugs exploded forward with increased speed and ferocity, crashing onto and through the spears, walking their dying bodies up the shafts for an attempt at a kill.

  But such skills had consequences. Harsh ones after a short delay or trade-offs up front. And he was betting on both. They were moving faster, but less able to dodge. With braced weapons, that wasn’t a bad trade. They cared not for pain or death… but that wasn’t new. Red light lingered on their pincers and tail spikes, promising significant pain if it hit, while a similar light burned away at their armor. Extra damage in exchange for reduced defense. Deadly if they got past the spears.

  If.

  But their spears bore the cross brace from a boar spear for a reason. If an enraged pig with only a bristly hide couldn’t get past it, a damn bug born with a full suit of plates wasn’t going to either.

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  Ethan smiled. Sometimes fate's dice fell in your favor. And when she smiled so, a wise man enjoyed it. Because she was a fickle bitch at the best of times and the other hand would drop soon enough.

  Until then, Ethan made a small note about pissing the elite bugs off. Used at the right time, they could make a real advantage from it.

  And that for the low cost of one eye. Not like it was out with five- No, a pilum jutted out beside the arrow. Four, more.

  Not that spear or arrow was doing much besides angering it. Tiers had a way of making even men less vulnerable to fatal blows. Much less an armored insect. “Guile.” He warned, softly.

  “On it.” Then something else went flying past him. A great sword flung with a peltasts running launch, glowing purple with Sunder and managed by the big man’s ridiculous body stat and maxed weapon skills, moved with such speed that even Ethan saw it as little more than a purple blur. Then it struck the bugs protruding head edge on… and bounced away.

  Not that anyone was laughing. The blade bounced away but the twisting purple aura remained behind. It shook its head violently, fruitlessly trying to dislodge it, and causing the next arrow to miss, pinging off the armor with an angry sounding screech and leaving a dent and small spiderwebs of cracks behind.

  Then it was too late. “Brace!” Ethan bellowed, not that he expected it to be enough. The beast didn’t just reach the line, it stepped on the shoulders of the ranks in front of it, crushing them in passing, and launched itself at the line of spears.

  At and through.

  Spears, their ends braced against the ground, their bearers outlined in gold and triggering every skill they might have, struck its damaged head. Struck and dug deep inside.

  Two, three, more, piercing deeply, but the momentum wasn’t so easily stopped. The braced spears bowed into a C shape, then snapped like whips. Flinging splinters and their bearers flying even as the dead body of the elite slid to a stop five yards behind the line.

  Leaving a gaping wound in the wall several bodies wide. Two of them flattened to an un-survivable degree.

  Then Guile was there, spatha and scutum in hand and leading a decade of Hastati in a headlong shield charge over the downed body. They slammed into the gap with an audible crash! Shield bashes threw bugs backward even as the return force flung the men back too.

  With a barked order, the Phalangites took a measured step backwards, even as the Hastati recovered and rushed forward again. Spears thrust and slashed in short brutal arks aimed at knees and elbows. Little killing, but many a crippling.

  Only Guile’s sword was piling up dead bugs left and right. But killing was only a secondary goal.

  Delay was the primary. And a crippled bug made a fine barricade!

  They plugged the gap and held, if with difficulty and no few wounds. Crushed fingers and broken limbs were the cost of doing business with pincers twice the size of water pails.

  A significant cost, but one they paid happily in exchange for time.

  It was enough. Back-stepping and closing up, the ranks of Phalangites, reinforced and refilled from the reserve, reformed the phalanx hedge of spears, over and around the Hastati shield wall. Then slammed forward, driving the bugs back into the crossfire of the tunnels Y.

  Ethan stood tall with them every step of the way. Projecting confidence and phlegmatic practicality as he leaped onto the elite’s corpse, redirecting and adjusting the lines with a few, quick words as needed.

  On the outside at least.

  Fuck but that had been closer than he’d like. Casualties had been and would stay light… if they could keep the bugs away from downed men. A bashing blow to a standing soldier, even to head or chest would knock them backwards as much as hurt them. The same blow with bodies braced against the ground?

  Not pretty.

  The fight lingered for a few more minutes, but just because the bugs had no sense of self-preservation. They’d lost as soon as that gap didn’t stay open. And all that was left was to see how much damage they could do, and pincered from two sides? It wasn’t much.

  “Do a body check and make sure they’re all dead before the Labori head in.” he reminded the men, ignoring the put-upon looks he received. Sure, they probably would have done it without his reminder, but probably wasn’t good enough. He’d learned that lesson the hard way long since.

  He turned his attention to reorganizing his men. Most of two decades were out of commission with broken bones, scrapes, cuts and concussions. The lucky ones.

  But lucky or no, he had to clean up the mess, redirecting men and officers to make whole effective units from the scraps and detritus of the previous.

  He did take a minute to watch the Elite’s giant black carapace harvested. Putting a mental note to claim it. If there was ever a piece that screamed noble armor, this was it. And he was looking a bit ragged these days. Comparisons were odious, but they would be made. Especially with his closest in shiny new knightly plate vs him in his old Bandsmen gear.

  It was good gear, to be sure. He’d spent a great deal over the years to make it so, but not nearly as pretty as a tier 3 Armorer could turn out!

  There would be time enough for that later. Clean up would take a while, but the wounded couldn’t wait. The reorganized companies were split into a Fifty-man escort for the 27 casualties, two fatal, and the additional sixty Labori carrying them and the recently acquired loot.

  They quickly set out, scouts to the front. They’d be fine even against a hurry-along wave in the tunnels. But if they were caught in the wide open of a cavern… He let the worry fade. They’d made progress, that shouldn’t happen.

  More convincingly, as should wasn’t a word he liked to count on, James was with them. He’d not be caught napping.

  And when he came back in, he’d bring another 250 Labori to kick the harvesting into high gear.

  Which meant they’d need to keep pushing forward to protect them.

  “Sir Leofsige?”

  “I don’t see any of the Grove Tenders among the bodies, Milord. They’ll be waiting ahead. On the plus side, I don’t see any Sentinels nor another elite left in the cavern either. Still need to watch for climbers, burrowers and that final charge.”

  Ethan nodded. Barking out a few orders to get the men moving forward, before turning back to Leo. “What was that elite?”

  “Umbral Overseer. Top of tier 2.”

  Ethan grunted, hiding a small spark of worry. If an elite was that strong, the boss was going to be a problem. Not an insurmountable one, but this wasn’t a demon portal for the Emperor. He couldn’t afford to leave a quarter of the band’s strength buried here in exchange for a victory. Here there would be no battle merits or Imperial Purchasing or Disbursing agents to make good the loss.

  They marched into the cavern, the first rank facing outward, the second up and backwards, spears raised, turned to check the wall above them. Finding it empty they reformed forward, expanding in a ring into the mushroom-studded grove that was a far sight smaller than the first cavern they’d assaulted. A barked command brought them to a halt, and Labori rushed forward with bundles of pilums.

  He gave them a moment to refill any empty quivers, then ordered the march. Stepping forward steadily, checking above and below for lurkers, but finding none of either, till that invisible line was again breached and a horde of worker bugs boiled out, abandoning their harvesting to rush headlong at the band.

  Right into a pilum volley. Demon bone spikes shredded the more lightly armored insects with, if not ease, then at least regularity. Then a second volley struck. Only disordered dregs hit the line of braced spears. Their ranks, thinned and broken, lacked the massed momentum needed to present even a mild threat.

  “One additional entrance.” Leo’s voice supplied, popping up beside him to point the way. That was… east? It was a bit hard to keep track of with all the windings.

  He mentioned as much to Leo, only to get a head shake in return. “More northeast. Might double back to the first cavern. Might not. But it’s not a dead end. The air’s moving and there’s water and life on it.”

  A small blocking force quickly made its way to the new entrance, while the rest of the bandsman took a short break. Letting the Labori and Craftsmen finish harvesting the carapaces and a few already felled mushrooms.

  A half hour, more like forty minutes later. About enough time for James to leave the rift. He set the familiar worry aside, calling the men to form up and push into the tunnel. A short walk and another minor assault hit them, and was easily dealt with, before they hit a shallow bend and spotted the familiar colors of a mushroom grove again.

  And one without an Earthwork at the entrance. Dammit.

  He called a hold and waited.

  And waited some more.

  Patience really should be on a military man’s stat sheet, he reflected, and not for the first time.

  Finally, Leo’s voice popped up beside him. Only resulting in a minor urge to punch him. “A baby cavern. Barely one a t’all. Five mushtrees and maybe a hundred bugs, better than half of them Grove Tenders, and no elite.” He paused, considering his words then shrugged. “That I saw.” He finished.

  That wasn’t so bad. Despite the value they were tearing out of this rift, he’d really prefer it to be on the smaller side. Casualties were the unfortunate facts of life, but that didn’t mean they weren’t painful.

  “Poke them?”

  Leo considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Might get the workers too, small as it is.”

  Ethan just shrugged. Once you were ready for them, they weren’t much of a problem. He glanced at Conner for a moment, then let his eyes shift between the bend behind them and a quiver of pilum on a Phalangites back.

  Conner nodded towards the bend. Ethan shrugged. “Form up on Sir Conner, behind the bend.” Not much room for a pilum volley there, but it wouldn’t do much to the sentinels anyway and the turn would rob the bugs of most of their momentum.

  He waited for the ranks to form and stabilize, then spoke. “Go ahead, Leo.”

  There was a short pause, then the tunnel began to ring with the same old tip tapping.

  The wave of bugs followed Leo around the corner far too close to comfort and he hit the ground easily, sliding under the spears right before they spitted the first bugs. The bulkier sentinels, Ethan noted. He held his breath waiting.

  Waiting.

  Now! “Volley!” The point-blank Pilums shot forward right as sentinel ranks gave way to tenders climbing over the piles of corpses.

  The sleeting line of spears ensured that while they climbed up those piles, they mostly rolled back down the far side. With little to show for it.

  The cavern was indeed barely worthy of the name. Five large mushroom trees, one of which was already felled and partially harvested, a small pool of water and a second entrance in line with the first.

  An entrance that led to an already cleared tunnel and a familiar set of earthworks. He didn’t have to see Leo’s grinning face to hear the ‘I told you so.’

  The men were back around their campfires and napping spots in the first cavern a few minutes later with no James in sight. Not surprising with the Lockout times involved, but also not something they could or needed to wait for.

  With only one entrance to barricade, and the same entrance they were exploring next, the Labori could stay inside the rift. And maybe get a good bit more loot out of it than he’d planned for. But that was for James to deal with.

  They pushed out down the Northeast tunnel. Easily handling the usual small bug groups and making the mouth of yet another mushroom cavern. Though a very different-looking one. Workers scurried over the mostly cleared space, replanting and watering tiny mushroom sprouts, while a stack of mushroom logs against the far wall were already being broken into smaller pieces for transport. It made a point about the cyclical nature of these caverns.

  It was all about the mushrooms, and he was starting to hate the blasted things.

  Even if they were tasty!

  A fact he tried to remind himself of for the fast-coming dinner. And because they had a mountain of work before them before that meal could come. Leo, knowing what to look for and without the presence of mushroom trees to block sight lines, quietly pointed out two elites, partially dug into the ground, seemingly resting.

  Their presence meant no tricky bait and kill games in the tunnels. They’d need room for maneuver to handle the freight wagon-sized bugs.

  Now it was just time to see if all the planning would work as intended. He snorted, as if that ever happened. But close enough? That he could and did hope for.

  The band extended into the cavern in a series of blocks. Not the usual line of massed sarissas, but hollow square hedgehogs instead. Close to a tiercio, though it was lacking the bowmen to the center that made the third leg of that formation. Three blocks of around forty men each marched through the entrance. Two, Conner and Andrew commanding, moved forward and to either side while Ethan took the center and lagged behind. Taking a moment, and the cover offered by the other two to check up, on the walls and ceilings for bugs.

  Which there were.

  Even as sentinels in mass began to filter thorough the mushroom trees, Overseers far to the back thankfully, his men began to fish the bastards down. There was nothing more dangerous than an ambush that didn’t work.

  For the ambushers.

  And while the insects could climb and cling to the walls, with all the weight of their heavy carapaces they weren’t particularly mobile doing so. Flights of pilum knocked them loose while braced spears skewered them as they fell. They died fast, nearly before the first bug elements hit the forward squares.

  Then it was time to get clever. “Forward – Charge!” he called, as the men angled the sarissas fully to the front, back ranks compacting into 5 ranks deep and charged into the bugs that were already eddying around and building up between the other blocks.

  At the same moment, the other two blocks pivoted and moved towards the center. Collapsing on three sides and quickly mopping up the flanked bugs.

  Then Conner's troops began to give ground before the creatures as Ethans reformed the square and Andrews were still pressing forward.

  Sensing a weakness the swarm flexed and surged towards Conner on the left flank, eddying around him, only to get flanked again as in Ethans block walked to the side, reformed left flank now the front of the square and charged left into a new bug flank. Andrew following along to screen him.

  Then a feigned retreat to the middle while both flanks advanced. Collapse on the bugs that took the bait, revert, counter march. Then do it again!

  A carefully choreographed shell game, using and abusing a much shorter command loop, and the bug’s individual lack of initiative.

  Then the elites reached the front and things changed.

  “Prepare to Pass- Bug Cavelry!” Ethan called, letting a bit of humor leak into his voice. His voice unheard by men ten feet from him and instead jumped a hundred feet to the other two blocks. He’d gotten the pass this time it would seem. He let his words be the comforting blanket of command. He was watching. He was confident. And this was all a good prank to pull on a sucker of an enemy.

  And pull it off they did. Instead of blocking the unstoppable, they directed it. Braced spears slammed in from either side and shoving it to the center, even as the men to the center gave way, folding backwards like a pair of swinging doors. Allowing the beast to rush into the center of the hollow square, nearly alone. The walls closed up behind it even as the rear ranks slammed a dozen spears into it from all sides, going for its legs as much as any kill shots and succeeding in slowing and unbalancing the massive insect. Then Guile was there, great sword wreathed in purple to lop three legs off on a side.

  Ethan turned his attention away. That fight might linger a bit, but it was over. To the other side, Conner skillfully danced the maddened beast in a circle. Deflecting and avoiding the pincers, its tail already a shortened, weeping wound. Never letting it build up any momentum, and slowly bleeding it out from three dozen cuts as spears from the side continually stabbed at it. Even if the armor was thick, it had the same flaws the base armor did, only larger and easier to target. Arm and leg joints, the tail, even what passed for an armpit.

  And all of them were soon gushing ichor. That would take a bit longer, but had had it in hand.

  That left Ethan to finish his own job.

  “Form Line!” He bellowed, And the box collapsed and spread out forward. Leakers picked up by squads of Hastati to the rear. Corralling and crippling the beasts, even where their spears failed to pierce the carapace proper. Not delaying, he bellowed the charge. Charging forward and past the other two, smashing into the front of Sentinels, and grasping as much of their attention as possible.

  Anything they could do to take the pressure off the other two formations, left vulnerable by their spear lines dealing with both inside and out.

  It got a bit tight as his flanks, unsecured with the other two unable to move yet, were nearly rounded. But he managed to refuse the flank. Placing himself and the standard at the hinge to lock it down, personally slaughtering several bugs in the process, while the men swung backwards, turning the line into an elbow. Neatly slaughtering the unbalanced bugs as they attempted to follow the turn at speed, and failed.

  Then he felt the flow shift again, as two mobile again, formations to either side smashed forward and in, flexing themselves into lines as well to nearly envelope the remaining bugs, pressure from all sides, piling them up on one another no room to swing the pincers, much less build up momentum.

  Unable to even defend themselves, they quickly died.

  Ethan carefully didn’t let out a relieved breath. Pasting a pleased, but as if it was what he’d expected all along, look on his face. “Well Done. Well done, to all.” How well done, he’d have to wait for the butcher’s bill to find out. But he was hopeful.

  There was only one additional entrance to this cavern, but rather than deal with that, the men packed up the wounded, and there were a lot of them this time, dealing with those elites had been a bit like putting themselves between a hammer and an anvil. Just because they killed the anvil before the two could meet didn’t make it less dangerous. Just less deadly.

  They packed them up and the harvested carapaces before marched back to the first cavern.

  Where a small forest of tents filled a man-made clearing. A clearing that was giving off the most inviting scents as stew pots bubbled merrily away. James had even brought in some wineskins. Of a sort at least. Posca, the cheapest of the cheap. Watered-down down soured wine. For all that, it was alcoholic and it was wet, so predictably, it was popular with soldiers.

  Each skin held nearly 10 gallons. Enough for a bowl for each man, Labori included. Enough for a taste. Enough to ease aches and pains. But not enough to get drunk on.

  Ethan waited, seeing that the men were well started on their dinner and well-earned libation before making his way to the command tent.

  ___

  He brushed aside the flap and into the brightly lit expanse, moving to the side and standing still while a trio of pages unbuckled and removed his armor. He’d have to put half of it back on before going to bed, but they could at least clean it before then.

  Even temporarily, it was a welcome. He reached back and scratched at that inevitable itch. The one that started soon after the chest piece went on, and never really went away. He gave his shoulders a welcome twist and sat on a waiting pillow gratefully. Grateful to be away from the worst of armor… he let his head fall slightly and gave a tentative sniff, before grimacing and standing again to strip off the gambeson and move over to the wash basin.

  He’d have to ask Blake to work that odor-banishing spell again soon. Only magic could really remove the buildup of blood, sweat, rust and many less pleasant materials from a suit of armor and the undergarments that went with it.

  But five minutes of work later, he managed to join the table of his knights in a slightly less fragrant state. Conner was still armored, as was Andrew and Leo, though the last didn’t count for much. Leo, by grace of some very rare skills, could go from naked to armored and moving in under a minute. The rest of them took considerably longer.

  A fact they’d have to try out later, as they switched off. At no point would he permit the entire command staff to be unarmored at once.

  “Good evening.” He managed, snagging a bowl of mushroom, beans and jerked mutton stew. It really was an improvement. He wondered if they could grow the stuff later? He made a mental note to have James look into it.

  For a time, no one spoke, too busy polishing off several bowls of food. It took a lot of energy to fuel combat. Especially at higher tiers. Not that it was an equal growth between the two. A single tier up might have a man eating a quarter again as much but nearly twice as effective. It was still a noticeable increase in needed supplies and one James kept a careful eye on.

  “Who has the midnight hurry-along assault?” Predictably, it was Guile who broke the silence. Already tossing back half a mug of Posca. Ethan sighed. He’d reprimand most men for drinking heavily in a combat zone, but Guile had a hollow leg. It wasn’t that he didn’t get drunk, he did and was a real hellraiser in a bender. It just took far more than they had available to get him there.

  A fact Ethan knew better than to assume was an accident. James was the one who had to clean up and pay, from the company coffers often enough, for those binges after all.

  “You volunteering?” Andrew snarked, taking a much more reasonable sip, and grimacing slightly.

  Draining the other half and reaching for the pitcher, Guile considered it. “Why not. The bugs aren’t bad opponents, and I’m always ready to farm a bit of extra experience.” And had skills that. Ethan was sure even if he wouldn’t admit it, let him get by on less sleep.

  That and his body score was far higher than Ethans. There was some overlap between that and the need for sleep. Unfortunately, he was a champion type, not a leader. And while he could and had led men, he lacked the buffs to really make the most of them. Ethan looked to the side at Conner, then shifted his eyes to Andrew. Conner grinned and nodded. The younger man could handle it, and it would do his skills good to have more independent commands.

  “Thank you both for volunteering then.” He said, keeping an earnest and approving look on his face even as he leaned over and filled Andrew’s mug, though that took very little additional wine, before the younger man could protest.

  Andrew glared at him, then to the side at an evilly grinning Conner and sighed. Taking a sip and grimacing again, he shrugged.

  They spent a small amount of time going over the day, things that went well, things that didn’t and how they could improve the morrow. But it wasn’t a long session and Ethan soon turned in. They’d need him in top form tomorrow, and the watches were well taken care of.

  He woke briefly at the clash of metal and carapace, but the tone was right. The flow didn’t speak of panic; it was smooth and clean. In moments, he was quickly back to sleep.

  ____