“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Anton told Elara, “But, after this, it will be.”

  Elara looked out from atop the town wall to where Oldaw—possibly no longer Captain Oldaw—was arguing with his former subordinates. Anton wasn’t sure how it worked for soldiers, but Oldaw clearly couldn’t serve as Captain over the Lancers if he was sworn not to fight the town they were attacking.

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Lord Nos,” Elara said sadly. “It was too late for me back in the capital. Whether it was when the assassins came for me, or when I escaped from the Embassy, doesn’t really matter, but it was around then.”

  “Just Anton, please,” Anton said again. “I never know who “Lord Nos” is, and you outrank me besides.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t outrank anyone anymore,” Elara said. “I’m just a runaway, abandoned by my family or a traitor to them, depending on whom you believe.”

  “We can all be traitors together, then,” Anton declared. “And you’re still the niece of the Queen I swore to—perhaps even her heir? As far as I know, she doesn’t hold any grudges against you. So you’re still a princess.”

  They would be sending a letter back with Odran, informing Queen Syrelle of developments. Suliel was confident that the Rose Circle would be glad of more royals taking their side.

  Oldaw finished his discussion with the other knights and rode out of the encampment. His people had given him a horse, at least, something Anton hadn’t been able to afford.

  “You had best get back to the castle then,” Anton told Elara. “They should be mounting an attack soon.”

  Anton was glad to see Oldaw go. It would have felt wrong to let him go, just to kill the man later, and if he’d stayed in the camp, Anton couldn’t have guaranteed his life.

  Elara bowed briefly—curtseies were a little impractical on the wall— and took her leave. Anton returned to his command position. Kelsey was waiting for him with a pleased look on her face.

  “This is a very special time,” she said dreamily. “It might last for a while, but this moment carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. It won’t last. You need to treasure every second of it before it fades.”

  Anton gave Kelsey a long look before replying. “You’re talking about where the enemy placed their camp.”

  “Not just about that,” Kelsey said. “The moment before conventional wisdom changes—it’s precious. I don’t think even your soldiers have figured it out yet.”

  Anton raised an eyebrow and called over his captain.

  “Do you see anything wrong with where they’re emplaced?” he asked, pointing at the mercenary camp.

  Rynmos frowned and looked out over the field where the battle would be held. The mercenaries were in good order and looked well set up. Anton had expected them to try and encircle the town, but they had contented themselves with placing a small unit on the western road. Perhaps they knew that the town wasn’t going to be starved into submission, as long as they held the port.

  “I’m surprised that Commander Rami didn’t join up with them,” Anton said, as the captain studied the enemy camp.

  “You want to save your marines for naval action,” Rynmos said. “Sir,” he added quickly.

  “Then, stage an attack by sea?” Anton suggested.

  “Might yet happen, but I doubt it,” Captain Rynmos disagreed. “They might not have seen the cannon, but they saw the tower. Likely, they thought we put a catapult on it.”

  “I see…” Anton supposed that ships didn’t like having rocks dropped on them any more than people did. “So, the camp? About its placement?”

  “I’m no siege expert, my lord, but it looks right to me. About the only thing I know about siege camps is to put it out of bowshot.

  “Bowshot,” Anton agreed. “But we’re not using bows.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Rynmos nodded agreeably, but he still didn’t see it.

  “Do you know what the range of a rifle is?” Anton asked.

  Rynmos frowned. “We’ve… never much practised with them past a hundred yards,” he said. “That’s the length of our shooting gallery.”

  “You see!” Kelsey crowed. “Aris gets it. You get it because you’ve seen Aris shoot. But no one else in the world knows.”

  “Aris’s guns are one thing,” Anton said. “How far can the ones we have here shoot?”

  “They lose power the further they go,” Kelsey said. “And accuracy suffers, of course. But you guys got the good ones; they should be good to kill a man at 400 yards.”

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  “Oh,” Captain Rynmos said. He looked out at the enemy camp, comfortably out of bowshot at 250 yards. “Oh dear.”

  Anton looked at Aris. “Have you picked out their leaders?”

  “They’re the ones that were arguing with Oldaw, right?” she replied. “And the infantry are being led by a fat guy dressed in lots of colours.”

  Anton picked him out without difficulty. He’d obviously dressed to be noticed.

  “Great,” he said. “We’ll wait until they’ve formed—what are they doing?”

  In fact, Anton could see what they were doing. The group of fifty or so Lancers had split into two, one group taking their place on each side of the main infantry group.

  “I reckon they want to use that Glimmering Charge of theirs again, but they’re not keen on you jumping them,” Kelsey said. “If they split up, you can’t stop both groups.”

  “They won’t be able to charge the gate, though,” Anton pointed out. The crater from the first time was still there. It was traversable, but not easily.

  “They probably figure that putting a hole in the wall will be enough,” Kelsey suggested. “Even split up like that… I figure they might be able to manage it.”

  Anton shrugged. “I’ll stop one, and Aris can take care of the other one,” he said. “Right?”

  Aris nodded. “I just have to shoot the leader, right?”

  “Do it late enough that they can’t swap someone in, and that should do it,” Kelsey agreed.

  Anton looked at his captain. “You have everything else in hand?” he asked.

  Rynmos nodded. “Aye, my lord. We’ll show them what sort of hornet’s nest they’ve kicked open.”

  Anton clapped the man on the shoulder and headed to where he thought one of the cavalry groups would be headed. He’d reposition once they started moving.

  There was a tension in the air that Anton remembered feeling for his first battle. Just like then, his town’s forces were outnumbered. Captain Rynmos had estimated the attackers stood at a hundred infantry and fifty cavalry. Against that, Anton had just twenty riflemen standing against them on the wall. He had more than that, but he needed to man the rest of the wall and keep more in reserve for when the front line got tired.

  He’d mostly let Captain Rynmos organise the deployment. There were several concerns, including the diverse traits of his men. Rifleman was a new Class, and no one knew exactly how the different Traits available worked with each other. The next generation of soldiers would start with their development all planned out, but his soldiers were learning as they went.

  After an interminable wait, the enemy forces started moving. As expected, the cavalry quickly pulled ahead of the slow-moving infantry. Anton noted the trajectory of his target group and got into position.

  He had expected them to change direction in an attempt to leave him behind, but they seemed to have accepted their fate. Anton didn’t think it would have worked, anyway. Anton was pretty fast on his feet. He could maybe be outdistanced by a horse, but they couldn’t turn quickly and charge at the wall.

  At what must have been the last minute before they got into jumping range, they did turn quickly, wheeling around in an impressive display of coordination. They must have been satisfied with occupying him, allowing the other team to get through.

  The distinctive crack of Aris’s rifle showed why that was never going to work. Anton couldn’t see what was going on from here, but he didn’t hear the crash of the wall going down.

  A moment later, his men started to shoot.

  It started with one of the sergeants screaming out orders.

  “Ready! Fire!”

  Not every one of his soldiers had the Volley Fire Trait, but Anton suspected that from now on, the sergeants would be bullying new recruits to take it. Much like the Glimmering Charge, it let soldiers act as a unit that was more than the sum of its parts.

  As an individualistic fighter himself, Anton didn’t really get it. He knew enough to let the sergeants do what they needed to, and they would not shut up about it.

  Not all of his soldiers had the trait, but every one that did was facing the enemy right now. Fast Aim, Accurate Shot and Fast Reload were all more useful on other parts of the wall. The sergeants were determined that the first use of the Trait should strike with as much force, as many shooters, as they could muster.

  The guns fired as one, and a section of the enemy line fell down.

  Even as the smoke billowed around the wall, the sergeant-in-charge was screaming for reloads. Anton wasn’t sure if they were going to be necessary. The mercenaries had stopped their advance, shocked at the sudden loss of their comrades. A few of the nearest to the fallen started rendering aid.

  The cavalry unit charging past Anton couldn’t freeze, but they could hardly react in a useful manner. The sudden noise had startled the horses as much as the men, and they were all forced to spend a moment just riding. Anton could only imagine that the other force, missing its leader, wasn’t doing any better.

  A second crack from further down the wall, as Aris worked on her targets of opportunity, suggested matters were only going to get worse for the unseen cavalry unit.

  None of the enemy had worked out what to do before Anton’s riflemen had reloaded. Anton wondered if the mercenaries could hear the sergeant screaming orders, and realised what was going to happen next.

  “Ready! Fire!”

  Another loud report, and another chunk of the line gone. This time, though, the mercenaries had worked out what they were going to do.

  Run.

  It wasn’t a panicked rout; they maintained some kind of order. Anton was pleased to see that some of the injured were picked up by their companions. The light wooden shields the mercenaries had carried had already proved ineffective, but they held them behind them as they left the battlefield as quickly as they could.

  Or tried too. The neat line they had started with had devolved into clumps of fleeing soldiers by the time they reached their camp. Just before they did, the third volley sounded.

  The Lancers, by this point, had realised that they had lost their centre and that there wasn’t anything they could do about it. They had headed back to the camp as well, but when soldiers fell at the third volley, they realised that the camp was no safe haven. They kept riding, fearful that the guns would be turned on them.

  When the infantry saw their cavalry support fleeing, the retreat turned into a rout. A fourth volley was fired, but it mostly just convinced the fleeing troops to keep running.

  Anton wandered back to his command post. It all felt very anti-climactic, and he hadn’t received even a drop of experience. It had all gone to his men.

  “Captain Rynmos,” Anton said. “Can you send out some men to gather all the supplies from the enemy camp? Keep a watch with the riflemen, of course, in case they try to come back.”

  “Aye, sir. Reckon they’ll be missing those soon enough.”

  “I imagine so,” Anton agreed. The supplies had been stolen from the refugees they’d taken in, so it was only fair that they be returned.

  Rynmos gave some orders, and the gate started to open to let out a foraging squad. He turned back to Anton.

  “Easiest fight I ever had, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir.”

  “Cherish it,” Kelsey said. “Cherish this moment, because it won’t last.”