“I fucking hate escort missions,” the young sergeant said.

It was tight inside of the command tent. Tight and a little rank, and hot despite the cold air blowing from the south. It was dark as well. The company didn’t have oil to waste on lanterns while the sun still shone outside.

His name was Tarn and he was an idiot. Not a bad sort really, and not a bad commander either, provided someone told him what to do. He could do his job well enough beyond the fact that everything that came out of his mouth was moronic, poorly timed, or uncalled for. No wonder he ended up with this apparently unworthy assignment.

The older, cannier officer cast a quick glance at Captain Cernit before replying with a nod. That was old Jarod Three-Eyes and he had seen much. Cernit had never worked together with the others, and Old Jarod knew better than to antagonize an officer right off the wagon. Besides, they knew Cernit was a noble and some nobles had a tendency to be asshats.

It was just the way things were in the Baranese army.

Cernit smiled.

“She’s different.”

“You know her?” Old Jarod asked.

“Besides the fact she comes recommended by General Jaratalassi? Yes. She took down undead crawlers and gut spillers by the dozen back in the deadlands where I met her.”

“Huh,” Tarn said, suitably impressed.

“Of course, she was only first step then.”

That got their attention. Cernit allowed himself a smile, feeling that for once in his life, he knew someone important. By Sardanal it felt good to be connected.

He would have said she stopped an entire undead horde led by two necromancers but that was the golem. Overselling a caster’s ability was also dangerous business.

“Jaratalassi said she’s the only witch he’s accepted in his second year. He also said she was among his ten best students.”

“Grim Jaratalassi? The bear trap?”

“In person. In any case, you will see. She should be here any time now.”

In truth, Cernit's high finesse had let him hear the quieting camp around them. It could only mean one thing. Old Jarod stood at attention before him.

The person who came in the tent was almost unrecognizable. Gone were the gaunt traits, the hollow eyes. The one he had grown to call Bob was hale and confident, dressed in black and silver armor that must have cost more than he’d made since he’d last seen her, bounties included. A round shield rested on her shoulders, a dagger waited on her chest, to the side. The pommel was a black core the size of a large egg. More importantly, mana danced around her, visible in tiny fumaroles at the edge of her soul. It played strangely with the light that came from the entrance. Only the blood-tinged hair and emerald eyes hadn’t changed, though there was less despair and more control now. Cernit also felt that sense of weight one had when facing forces of nature. He inspected her.

[Ascendant, fourth step, one who has followed the path of direct war magic and leadership. Lethal. Undead nightmare. Man bane. Monster hunter. Leader. Smart. Lucky. On the rise. ]

Fourth step!

The woman’s face lit up when she noticed Cernit.

“Captain Cernit. Congratulations on your promotion!”

“Thank you. You look much better than last time!”

“I feel that way too. Glad to see you again. I love to see a familiar face. Let’s catch up later. For now, I believe an introduction is in order?”

“Yes. Those are Sergeant Tarn who will command the line, and Sergeant Jerod but everyone calls him Old Jerod Three-Eyes on account of his vigilance skill. With him, we’ll never get caught off guard.”

The two men saluted.

“Right. I am attached to your company as a member of the Academy. Do you know what that means?”

“Means you can’t give us orders?” Tarn replied before his two brain cells could catch up with his lips.

Cernit smacked the back of his head. The blow tilted the man forward.

“That means she’s considered an expert, not a member of our glorious army. But if she says jump by Neriad’s balls you’ll jump. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“I am only here to complete my objective, but I will be providing support and arcane-related advice to the commander, so Cernit. If I do give a quick recommendation though, you’d better obey. If you want to live, that is.”

“Makes sense,” Tarn grumbled.

“Could we know what that objective is? We’re to take a fort?” Jerod asked.

“Occupy. We don’t know if there is anything there,” Cernit said.

“Of course it’s fucking occupied,” Tarn grumbled in his beard.

“This will be our primary objective as far as you’re concerned. The rest is classified,” Viv said.

The two sergeants waited for her to elaborate, which of course, she declined to do.

“Wow, we're doing something important.”

“Tarn,” Cernit said, “talk less.”

“Yes sir.”

“You just have to get me to that fort in one piece. That is all.”

“Understood,” Cernit said.

He knew what she was supposed to do.

“Are you ready to depart?”

“Anytime.”

***

Viv was not having a good time.

The trip to the regiment’s meeting grounds had been quite pleasant in a way wealth and connection could make trips enjoyable. Nice inns, nice manors, General Jaratalassi’s letter of introduction had been the best key money couldn’t afford. She had ridden her expensive horse down the best tables of the northern kingdom and to the border of Baran. It had removed the sting of Arthur’s ever longer trips. Now though, things were different.

Her mission was to reach the northern flank of the current front and open a portal to a predetermined region. She wasn't sure how Jaratalassi knew she could open portals and suspected he’d just asked her in a hunch knowing her skill and relationship with Sidjin. In any case, she was officially a portal maker for the alliance. The destination portal being in the wilderness, she was granted an escort of good size: a hundred experienced infantrymen to protect her during the trip and help ‘secure’ the fort. Viv highly suspected Jaratalassi knew the fort was occupied but she didn’t know by what. That part was fine. The part that wasn’t fine was that they had to walk through the boonies of the boonies of Baran, a heavily forested area creeping along the barren wastes of western Haluria. The marches of Baran were a patchwork of deserted moors and survival villages huddled in remote valleys, eking a living between two invasions. None of the parochial villages kept any roads because roads led raiders to places, places where people lived. As such, everyone walked over rocky hills and through arid ditches. Everyone including Viv.

Now, Harrakan heavies were superior in combat for a variety of reasons, one of them because their paths favored explosive power. They were unmatched on the battlefield. The problem was getting them here. Harrakans were masters of logistics for a reason. You couldn’t win a war unless your overly muscular soldiers wearing seventy kilograms of enchanted steel could get in spear range of your enemies. The rest of Param favored a more balanced approach. That meant that the supersoldiers making this regiment had trained to move fast and far. It meant that Viv was contending with a hundred fucking winter soldiers on an ‘active stroll’ and that meant that her life was utter shit.

Endurance: 28