Varre’s army was rapidly marching down the road to Tresannes. They realized that whichever forces took the Northern road were just a diversion. Count Clement and most of his real army were currently passing by the city walls and heading straight for Banbury.

  Confirming that alone took hours. Scouts kept rushing back and forth, bringing a constant stream of scattered reports. The soldiers kept marching, as the king and his commanders rode side by side, discussing their options.

  “Most of the rebels have passed by Tresannes already,” Count Jan explained, holding up a crudely drawn map of the surrounding area, “the latest report said that their rear is passing next to the city walls right now.”

  “Have any defenders joined this army?” Varre asked.

  “It doesn’t look like it,” Jan shook his head.

  “But we can’t be certain, your majesty” Baron Gregory chimed in, “the scouts watching the Southern gate had to pull back, Clement’s patrols have chased them off. And the last report we’ve had from the Eastern gate was an hour ago.”

  “They’ve sent a squad of knights to watch the forest. We can’t get too close,” the count spat.

  “What about our knights?” the king gestured at some of the dour looking cavalrymen around him.

  Jan clenched the reins of his horse harder. “We’ve dispatched as many of our scouts there as we could. They’re on the way. We’re holding the Northern hill for now and the enemy is keeping their distance, but we’ll need more time before we get better reports. For all we know, the defenders could have joined Clement already.”

  Gregory instinctively checked behind his shoulder. “We had to leave some riders to watch our back. And flanks. The Northern army may have been a diversion, but it was still a large force of cavalry. We can’t let them roam freely.”

  Varre was about to ask how large exactly, but Jan decided to answer unprompted. “A hundred knights. From what we can tell, anyway. I don’t want to waste too many men confirming it. It seems like they’ve changed directions and are heading back.”

  “Back?” the king raised his arms in exasperation, “back where? Are they planning to rejoin Clement’s army or what?”

  The count glanced back at the crude map, then huffed and threw it at one of the nearby knights. Within a few moments, he managed to find a slightly larger, and more detailed depiction of the area, though that made it harder to hold up while riding.

  “They must be heading for the ford here,” he pointed out to some location in the North, “if they rush, they’ll catch up with Clement’s forces eventually.”

  Varre rubbed his face. He couldn’t believe that the rebels managed to outsmart him this easily. All of his commanders assured him that this was the one thing Clement wouldn’t do. There was no point in heading for Banbury, or deeper into Logres. And yet that’s exactly what happened.

  He took a moment to calm himself. It’s fine. It’s. Fine, he repeated in his mind, can’t do anything about it now. We just have to pursue him and destroy him later. He may have tricked us, but we still hold the advantage.

  “So where exactly are we right now?” the king waved his hand at the map, “and where’s Clement?”

  Jan turned the map around to get a better look at it. “We just passed the village here. The last settlement before Tresannes. And the rebels are passing by the city. Considering when we got our last report,” he mumbled to himself, “their formation must be around here.”

  “How far behind are we?” Varre studied the map carefully, as if he could somehow burn a brand new highway into it with his eyes.

  The count took a few moments to mull it over. “Three hours. Approximately. We’ll have to take a wider berth around Tresannes. Can’t get too close to the walls.”

  “But since we’re both marching quickly…” the king trailed off.

  “Exactly. Clement can just match our pace and stay three hours ahead,” Jan spat again.

  “We won’t make it today,” Varre said, looking up at the sky. Though it was still afternoon, it would get dark eventually. And the soldiers couldn’t march without rest anyway.

  “I agree. We can try to make some progress though,” the count said, “our men have spent the last week resting during the siege, while Clement has been marching for the last three days. His troops are more tired.”

  “Not enough for us to make up the difference though. Besides, it’s not like the infantry was sleeping in nice beds. They’ve been working hard on constructing those damned fortifications.” The king looked around. He was mostly surrounded by the members of his entourage. High ranking commanders, and knights. Occasionally though, he could see the common infantrymen trudging around the dirt path. They were marching at a good pace already, there was no need to stress any more urgency upon them.

  “If it turns out they’re not heading for Banbury, but deeper inland…” Jan began.

  “Then what?” Varre cut him off, “I don’t want to waste our energy any more than necessary,” he had to stop himself from waving his arms, “besides, I can’t help the feeling that this is a trap. Could Clement prepare some ambush for us?”

  “Since we’re so close to the enemy,” the count fortunately didn’t mind being interrupted in the slightest, “we’re marching in combat formation. We’ll be ready to fight when the moment comes.”

  “And we’re constantly watching the rebel forces,” Gregory added, finally seeing an area he could contribute to, “we’ll know the second they try to form up for battle.”

  “Or an hour later. When the scout finally gets that report here,” the king grumbled.

  The lack of modern communications was really complicating his war plans. He was already somewhat getting used to having to wait days for news to travel from far away locations, but fighting a war in such conditions was madness. I can’t believe we only have two wizards who can communicate over long distances in the entire kingdom. How the hell am I supposed to run a country like this, he complained to himself, I don’t care what that damned Kadmos says, I need more of these mages.

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  Though normally strategy meetings such as this one were conducted under a heavy layer of secrecy to avoid critical information from falling into the wrong hands, the current situation was too hectic for anyone to respect the procedures. Messengers kept riding back and forth, carrying time sensitive reports to the highest commanders. Who mostly travelled close to the monarch.

  The Royal Guards still checked all of the people approaching the king, and made sure to disarm them or force them to keep their distance, but the well known members of the royal entourage and other people the king knew personally were allowed to pass freely.

  The twins were such people. They rode their horses just a few paces behind the strategy meeting, exchanging hushed whispers with Elvira. They tried to make their own plans and discussed spells that could help in the coming battle. Though they weren’t listening in on purpose, they could overhear parts of the conversation happening ahead.

  Perry noticed Varre’s rapidly falling mood and decided to intervene. She was no tactical genius, but if she happened to spot something obvious that the others missed, she wanted to try and help. Her companions watched her with shocked faces as she spurred her horse onwards and joined the meeting.

  “Varre,” she began, “the rebels are just a few miles ahead of us right?”

  The king turned to her, surprised. He didn’t expect her to interrupt his train of thought. “Seems like it,” he replied, “Tresannes lies past that hill. And their army should be just past the city.”

  “And I take it we’re trying to catch up to them?” Perry asked.

  Her sudden appearance caught the attention of all the other commanders. Some glared at this uninvited guest, but since the monarch didn’t seem to mind, no one made any moves to force her away.

  “Yes. They’re just three hours away,” Varre shook his head and smiled, as if telling a joke, “but since we’re moving at the same speed… You wouldn’t happen to know any spells that make us walk faster do you?”

  “Not… not for a whole army,” the corners of her mouth turned upwards, a little awkwardly, “but I had another idea. What about our knights?” she gestured to the armored horsemen all around them, “can’t they catch up?”

  The king looked up at his commanders, though he already suspected the answer.

  “If they gallop, sure,” Jan decided to humor the question. Mostly because Varre was looking at him expectantly, “but then what? The horses will be tired after miles of running. They need to be fresh for battle.”

  “Even if they could charge, they’ll be alone,” Gregory added, “it could work against peasant rabble, but the rebels have knights of their own. They’ll stop the charge, surround us, and slaughter us before our infantry gets there.”

  Varre turned back to the witch and shrugged. “Unless you know any spells that could help, after all.”

  “N-No,” Perry replied, flustered. She was just now realizing that the other commanders didn’t appreciate such obvious advice.

  “But you know,” the king said, trying to salvage the situation, “she might be on to something. What if we send the knights forward, catch up to the enemy, and threaten a charge,” he paused for effect, “and then just not do it? The mere threat will force Clement to react. He might turn his army around to receive them.”

  Jan was clearly mulling the idea over in his thoughts. After a few moments, he spoke up. “Maybe. It could work. But it’s risky. Very risky. Definitely not this close to Tresannes.”

  “Why not?”

  “We still don’t know exactly what’s in that city. Consider this,” the count pointed to the map again, “by the time the knights catch up, the enemy would be here. A bit past Tresannes. If we stand there like sticks in the mud, threatening the rebels, then whatever forces are kept in the city can ride out and hit us from behind.”

  “The infantry will be on the way. They’ll help in the battle,” Varre urged.

  “Yeah. Hours later,” Jan shook his head, “we’d lose dozens, maybe even hundreds of knights. We’d be depleting our main fighting force. That’s assuming Clement takes the bait anyway.”

  “What? You think they’ll just let us ride up to their rear and not react?” the king raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh they’ll react. But if our knights just stand there, staring, then they’ll get back on the road after fifteen minutes,” the count sighed, “keep in mind that we’ll have to keep our distance. If we get too close, they can just pepper us with arrows. Once they know we’re bluffing, they’ll keep moving.”

  “I’m afraid I agree, your majesty,” Gregory hesitantly said, “even if we get them to lower their guard and attack hours later, we’d be risking hundreds of knights. They’re strong, of course, but they’ll be fighting alone, in the midst of the chaotic wagon train. Meanwhile, the rabble will be blocking all the exits and hemming them in. We’d lose a lot of good men.”

  Varre shrugged again and an mouthed out ‘I tried’ to Perry.

  “I guess for now, our best bet is to stay on their toes,” Jan spat, “we’ll look for opportunities to make up the distance somehow, but unless we can lower it to an hour or less, we won’t be able to force a battle.”

  Though everyone hated it, the army had to follow this plan. Masses of scouts and light cavalry kept riding ahead, engaging in small skirmishes with the enemy and bringing back a constant stream of reports on their progress.

  Both armies marched late into the afternoon, later than they should have. Ultimately it was Varre who ordered a stop first. As his commanders assured him, he still held the advantage, despite everything. Clement was fleeing into loyalist territory, where he’d be easier to catch. Instead of Varre having to worry about unknown reinforcements from Tresannes, soon the rebels would need to worry about Banbury instead.

  Even though they had already failed him once, the king didn’t want to reject his commanders advice so readily. It was a mistake. He understood that, hell he’s made many himself. No one was immune to being outsmarted. Ultimately, the officers were the ones with decades of experience in warmaking, not the king. If they recommended a prolonged chase, he was going to do just that. After hearing sufficient reasoning of course.

  Varre’s decided that he didn’t want to exhaust his troops too much before the upcoming battle. Though the royal entourage was separated from the commoner infantry by dozens of knights, he could still see them occasionally. The long march was getting to them. Soon, they’d be dropping like flies. And unlike Clement, he wasn’t desperate enough to just watch it happen.

  The army stopped a few miles past Tresannes. The night would be very tense. The wagon train was fortified to the best of everyone’s abilities and the army set up their tents early. Everyone had to get as much rest as possible, as tomorrow morning the forced march would resume.

  As soon as Clement found out that Varre had stopped, his army paused as well. The day wasn’t easy and both sides had lost people already. Though the outriders kept out the number of friendly casualties from their reports, they made sure to note the several enemy corpses found on the road.

  The night was tense. The guards were set to high alert, patrolling the campsite in short shifts. It was important for everyone to get as much rest as possible. Massive bonfires lit up the surrounding countryside, and scouts kept a constant eye out on Clement’s camp.

  Not that it was necessary. Though the next small hill obscured the rebel forces, the plume from their fires was easily seen even from Varre’s tent.

  The next morning, the army set out again. The soldiers began packing their gear before the sun was fully up. Unfortunately, Clement had the same idea. His army began moving shortly afterwards. Overall, perhaps one side came out ahead of this exchange, but the difference was measured in minutes.

  The march continued, until early in the afternoon, a pale faced scout returned with a new report. His voice nearly broke as he yelled it out. “Your majesty! The enemy army is crossing the Elster! Their wagons are going over the bridge as we speak!”

  “Bastards. The garrison there probably didn’t even slow them down,” Jan shook his head, “it’s a shame. At least we’re in familiar territory now. Hell, maybe we’ll even spend the night in town. It’ll give the men some comfort before the battle.”

  “Sir… that’s not all,” the scout choked out.

  “What is it?”

  The rider grimaced. “The enemy forces. They… don’t appear to be leaving the city.”

  Varre almost facepalmed. It should have been obvious. “Of course. They’ll defend at the bridge.”

  Varre's commanders try to come up with different strategies that could help them. Yet they come up empty.

  Perhaps they have plans to overcome such a challenge already.