Lucien looked the man in the eye with a smirk spread over his face as he raised his sword over him. He wasn’t afraid of the ranger even with an arrow jutting out of his leg and lying in the mud under him. He had been smart enough to place some of his men with Itzli in the area to cover the retreat. Right on cue, there was sound of steel against steel as Itzli slapped her leg with her metal hand to signal to the rebels hidden in the trees and brush. The possessed armor moved from the shadows and intercepted the Gorgonite’s sword as it swung down at Lucien, and an arrow flew from the brush and struck the other ranger in the chest. Itzli engaged the Gorgonite Ranger as two more rebels came over and heaved Lucien up between them and moved off toward the camp.

The two rebels carried him to the medical tent and set him down on one of the many cots, but this one was slightly separated from the others, especially the rebels stricken with contagious diseases. Lucien lied back despite the fact his men were still out there fighting without him. The stocky man that worked as the rebels’ physician made his way over to Lucien after pouring some sort of medicine for one of the men suffering from disease caught from the night air in the swamps. The physician walked up to Lucien’s cot and began pouring him a mug of ale.

“You’ve been careless again, your grace. You need to be more careful, or you’ll end up dying before you even see the throne again.”

Lucien wore a smirk on his face as he took the mug from the balding physician. He took a swig of the stale swill that passed for ale in the rebel camp. The leader of the rebels noticed his armored companion step through the ten flaps as the physician gripped the little bit of the arrow shaft sticking out of Lucien’s leg and was about to greet her when the man yanked the arrow free of Lucien’s calf. He bit down and slammed his fist down on the cot beneath him; the ale helped but not enough to completely take away the pain of an arrowhead being pulled out of his leg. Once what was left of the arrow was free of his skin, there came a river of blood flowing from the wound it left behind. Lucien could feel the physician’s pudgy hands over the wound to stop the blood and then a slight warmth from the magic he worked to close up the wound. It was an odd sensation to feel his flesh stitching back up instantly.

“My apologies, my Lord, but I am unable to heal it further than that with my level of skill. I’m afraid that the wound will scar, though it won’t take your life,” he heard the physician saying as he rolled back over onto his back to see Itzli coming over to his bed.

“Scars aren’t so bad. I thank you for your efforts and thank the gods for your loyalty,” Lucien said to the physician as he walked away and Itzli walked over.

“I know what you’re going to say, Itzli. I was careless. I should have been the first one in the retreat, but how can I expect my subjects to follow me if I don’t lead? A king should lead his men into battle himself, not just sit back on his chair and command his men die for him.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, five or so arrows tore through the canvas top of the tent and stuck in the ground as well as a few dying men. The sound of swords clashing and bowstrings launching arrows in retaliation followed suit. Lucien jumped up and grabbed his longbow and made for the tent entrance.

“Damn it all! We led them right to us! Itzli, get the sick and civilians and lead them out of here. Take them along the escape route and make for the second camp,” with that Lucien made his way out of the tent and join the battle beyond.

He could hear shouts of, “Find him! Find Lucien,” from the Gorgon soldiers attacking the rebel camp.

Lucien was greeted by the sight of his men dying at the hands of Gorgon soldiers and Rangers. He drew his sword and rushed into the fighting, immediately crossing blades with one of his uncle's men. The two exchanged blow after blow before Lucien managed the get the upperhand and drove the sword through the man's chest, sending him to death's embrace and letting him fall to the ground below in a crumpled heap of armor and flesh. The rebel leader walked over the corpse with as much respect as he could muster and made his way further into the skirmish, his eyes flitting from soldier to soldier until they finally fell upon a cloaked figure on the other side of the battle. He couldn't explain why, but the figure gave him a feeling of dread and seemed to be the one leading the attack on the rebel camp. Lucien fought his way toward the figure with a newfound zeal. He felt that if he eliminated the leader, the Gorgon men would be easily defeated; his mind was too focused on the man leading the Gorgon forces to remember the orders to find and capture him.