The army moved up the road, chasing after Clement’s forces. They were eager to follow up on their latest victory and finish up the job for good.

  The rebels had been decimated and no doubt many of their soldiers elected to desert since the battle. Still, most of their cavalry survived and that presented a problem.

  Varre’s scouts kept travelling through the forests and fields ahead of the columns, hoping to reconnoiter the enemy, but it wasn’t easy. They had to travel slowly, in groups, always wary of enemy patrols and ambushes. Even with this added difficulty, they were able to track the enemy’s position. If only approximately. The density of rebel riders ahead was as good a signifier as any.

  The entire day was spent on marching. The loyalists weren’t expecting to catch up to Clement any time soon, but they had to keep up the pressure. He couldn’t be given time to rest, or refresh his forces. For now, he had to focus on running.

  The commanders decided to use this time efficiently and discuss their best path forward.

  “The rebels don’t have a lot of options of where to go now,” Count Jan began, “they’re stuck on the Eastern side of the Elster. That’s our territory. They’ll have trouble recruiting peasants or resupplying.”

  “Will any of the local nobles support them?” Varre asked.

  “Certainly not, your majesty,” Baron Gregory answered, “the people here are loyal and headstrong. I can vouch for them myself. There might be a few bad apples, sure, but most of those are already on Clement’s side. They can’t support him any more than they already have.”

  “I agree,” the senior commander nodded, “the rebels are clearly on the losing side right now. They’ll struggle to convince anyone else to join them. They might coerce or threaten a village or two, but they won’t get much. People aren’t stupid. Even if they haven’t heard of the battle yet, they’ll see how panicky Clement is. Their best bet is looting.”

  “Rebel scum,” Gregory spat, “typical. But trust me, your majesty, we won’t give up without a fight! They might avoid starvation, but they won’t be recovering from this loss!”

  “What if they hold up in a castle?” the king tried to study one of the small maps of the area. Not an easy task from the back of a horse, “are there any good targets around here?”

  “I doubt it,” Jan shook his head, “again, no local will open their gates to Clement. It’s suicide. We’re right behind them, so they won’t even have any time to stock up on supplies. We’d siege them for a couple of weeks, months at most, and end the rebellion in one fell swoop. Their best bet, is to cross the river.”

  “The ford,” Varre pointed it out on the map, “where we’ve sent our distraction force. They could use it. Sure, they’d need to break through our lines, but we only have a thousand men there. If they combine Clement’s thousand, with the thousand holding the ford from their side… they’d have the numbers. Not to mention Tobias!”

  “True. The ford is much wider than the bridge in Elstercross… and they don’t have many carts to worry about. Most have been abandoned after the battle. They could probably force their way through, at the cost of high casualties,” the count explained.

  “Our men would hold, I’ve no doubt about that,” Gregory protested, “at least long enough for us to arrive with reinforcements. We’d hit the rebels from behind mid-crossing.”

  “That would destroy them, true. But I’m not convinced we’d be fast enough. It’s an expensive plan, at least in terms of blood, but it could work for them,” Jan twisted his mustache, consumed in thought.

  “Are there any other crossings they could head for?” the king dragged his finger North along the map.

  “There is another bridge, about two days further North from the ford,” the baron said, “but not much beyond that. The rebels would reach the border with Langogne before long.”

  “Even Clement’s not crazy enough for that,” the count smirked, “they’re our sworn enemies. Especially to a Westerner. Don’t forget that the main justification for this power grab is an attempt to avenge king Mikkel, the Hero of the Langogne war. That conflict is too fresh in their memory for the rebels to attempt that. If they sparked a new war, the entire country would rally behind you to fight our greatest enemy. Even their own men would join us. No, that bridge is their last chance.”

  “I take it’s undefended?” Varre inquired, “just like Elstercross?”

  “It’s a small village,” Gregory confirmed, “and not many people travel there. As much as it pains me to say it, the rebels could simply pass.”

  “What about our distraction force? Could they move to prevent that? It’s easier to defend a bridge than a ford, after all,” the king suggested.

  “No,” Jan answered bluntly, “their orders are to attempt a crossing. If the rebels leave, they are to head South, support the assault on Elstercross and reunite with us. We have no way to communicate with them or give them new orders.”

  “It has been a while,” Varre protested, “and they know the schedule. Perhaps, if they see the rebels head North, they’ll realize what has happened and move to intercept them.”

  “Perhaps,” the count conceded, “but I doubt it. I’m not sure if I would in their shoes. As far as they can tell, this could just be another trap. It’s safer to follow the original plan and head South.”

  “Baron Khoman is a good man,” Gregory mused, “and he knows about the bridge. I’m not sure. He might take the risk.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “There is another option, of course,” Jan smirked, “Clement could avoid the ford completely and leave his men there for us to find. We’ll attack them and waste our time, while he heads for that bridge by himself. It’s cruel, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “A desperate man would cut off his own hand off to survive huh?” Varre scratched his chin.

  “That wouldn’t be bad for us, your majesty,” the baron said carefully, “we’d take care of half of his army in a single fell swoop. And he’d be pretty isolated up North. If we hurry, we could cross the ford ourselves and cut off his only escape.”

  Throughout the day, the army continued their march, as the scouts kept delivering scattered reports. The commanders tried to update their crude map with everyone’s current positions, but they couldn’t be certain of where exactly Clement was heading. Not yet. For now, it was best to keep up the pursuit, without allowing him enough time to reorganize.

  The evening further improved Varre’s situation. The first batch of supplies from Banbury made it. The messengers were dispatched as soon as the battle was won, and dozens of wagons arrived to restock the army.

  The loyalists still had a few days’ worth of food left, but this shipment refilled everyone’s morale just as much as it did their carts. Perhaps even more so. They were safe yet again.

  Three hundred fresh troops from the city were another boon. They refilled the ranks of the army, as the injured packed themselves onto the emptied wagons heading back for the city. Together with the captives.

  This night was a bit calmer than the previous. The loyalists camped out in the countryside, but the scouts were certain that no enemy force was close enough to threaten their position. As far as anyone could tell, Clement was more focused on saving his hide than going out in a final blaze of glory. Still, Captain Hakon kept up a high degree of security, with increased patrols around the perimeter.

  The next morning, the men packed up their tents early and continued onwards. Their morale was sky high. Fresh off of their victory and with renewed supply lines, they were eager to deal the final blow to the enemy. Even if some secretly hoped that the war, and the high salaries that came with it, lasted just a little bit longer.

  The afternoon however, brought a surprising new development.

  “Are you certain of this?” Jan interrogated the scout who had just delivered a new report.

  The squire dutifully nodded his head and the commander rode his horse closer to the monarch. The news had clearly thrown him off balance.

  “We’ve got a problem,” he explained.

  “What? Did Clement manage to get new army from somewhere?” Varre joked nervously.

  “Almost,” the count pulled out the latest map from the bag at the side of his saddle and pointed to a location to the North, “the scouts discovered a new force heading straight for us. Looks to be around a thousand people.”

  “That’s impossible,” Gregory protested, “we couldn’t have missed them. Where’d he get them from?”

  “The ford,” the king frowned, “they turned their army around and headed South.”

  “Exactly,” Jan grit his teeth, “and that means, our distraction force is chasing after them. Heading straight for Elstercross.”

  “The ford will be wide open,” Gregory ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

  “We need to stop Khoman. Get him to turn his men around,” Varre gesticulated, “hold the crossing from Clement and we’ll mop up this new army ourselves.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Damn it,” the count cursed, “their patrols will block our riders. We can’t send any messages through.”

  “What if we go around them,” the king pointed out one of the backroads on the map, “that’s the path Clement took right? We can avoid this army and keep up the chase.”

  “We could,” Jan conceded, “but that won’t give us anything! The main army will cross the ford and head East, while the second will use the bridge in Elstercross. We’ll be chasing both armies without achieving anything. Damn it all!”

  “Hey, it’s not all bad,” the baron tried to calm him down, “we can catch one thousand rebels in a trap,” he gestured by clapping his hands, “that’s a move they won’t easily recover from.”

  “It’s exactly what he wants,” the count angrily waved his hand, “but… you’re right. He’s giving us a huge victory on a silver platter. I know it’s a ploy, but we have to take it, damn it!”

  “He’s desperate,” Varre added, “he’s wasting half his remaining army just to get away. At this rate, he won’t be able to continue the war for much longer.”

  “The worst part is,” Jan looked into his eyes, “that I agree. It’s a desperate move, but it will let him survive for now. What’s next?”

  Varre looked back on the words Steward Marna said back in Westbridge. She believed Clement to be a cautious individual. One who always thought things through carefully. Would he really do this, just to keep on fighting a little longer? He decided to voice his concerns.

  “At this point, wouldn’t it be smarter to surrender? Clement will get away for now, sure. But he can’t replace these losses. Not quickly anyway. We’ll chase him all the way back to Quendon and start the siege. What’s his aim? Stalling for time? Everyone in the West, who wanted to support him, already did. They’re either running away with him now, or lie dead on the fields of Elstercross.”

  No one could answer.

  And so, the army changed direction, heading to intercept the second rebel army. Jan was right. This was exactly what Clement wanted them to do, but they had no choice. Taking out half of the rebels was always going to be worth it. It was bait, but tasty enough that it couldn’t be refused. There was no alternative either. If they simply kept chasing both the armies, they’d still manage to get to the West and hold up in some castles. The end result was going to be the same. It was better to take the choice that left Clement a thousand men short.

  The battle happened the next day. If it could even be called that.

  The rebel force sent out scouts of their own and they were well aware of their tenuous position. Some of the knights fled, to rejoin Clement’s main army by fleeing through the woods, but most of the infantry kept marching onwards.

  Just before the noose finally closed around their necks, the rebels decided to occupy a village and prepare defensive lines.

  It was hopeless. They were surrounded on both sides. Even if they set up their ranks right between the buildings, taking advantage of the stronger positions, they’d be slaughtered. A thousand infantry stood against nearly four. Not to mention the six hundred knights. The cavalry alone would be enough to crush any resistance.

  Knowing that, Varre sent out a single messenger, urging them to surrender. He still had no intention of depopulating his own lands, even if they were currently held by a traitor.

  The rebels were in no mood to die for their lord. Especially as most of them had never seen him before getting drafted and forced to take up arms. They threw themselves on the opportunity for amnesty and lay down their weapons.

  Still, it was too late to chase after Clement. As one half of his army was surrendering to Varre, his remaining half was busy approaching the ford. Even if Baron Khoman and his distraction force immediately galloped towards them, they’d never make it in time.

  Varre may have allowed the rebels to get away, to fight another day, but they paid a heavy price for it. Now, their numbers diminished to near unsustainable levels. Clement had maybe a full thousand peasants left, perhaps less. And around two and a half hundred knights. The loyalists on the other hand had over three and a half thousand infantry, and an almost untouched core of six hundred horsemen.

  Clement may have achieved a strategic victory today, but it was Pyrrhic. At best. If he continued to achieve similar wins at this rate, the war wouldn’t last for much longer.

  I was coming home late and needed more time to do the final grammar check on this chapter ;)

  Whoever said that Warhammer matches take 3-4 hours max is a liar!

  He got punished for it during the battle of Elstercross.

  The campaign hasn't even lasted two weeks, and the rebels have lost most of their men already.