[table][row][i][b][color=a0410d]Trace Retloth[/color][/b]
Fort Battle {Chapter 1} West Side to South Side Transition[/i][/row][cell]

The enemies at the western gate fell in moments.  Artemisia had regained her bearings and was already moving to counter the archers who were firing from inside the fort.  It was clear that there would be an assault using the explosives on the western wall.  Yet, though the Prince was going to probably go through the breach, it seemed that there were already several others who were focusing on that path as well.  Though, it was only small movements and glances that betrayed their intent.

If Trace had to be honest, the relative lack of order in this battle made him nervous.

There were quite a few rookies in this group and they weren't being paired with veterans.  They were instead rushing off and risking death.  Death is normal in a battle, but losing allies when you have little to no hope of replacing them was not a reliable way to survive a war.  Normally, Trace would have stuck by his employer under these chaotic circumstances.  It was better to guarantee that you get paid than it was to die devoted to your job.  But, this time the employer had shown diverse skills and good personal battle sense.  He was also supported by a number of others, talented rookies and veterans both.

Trace wasn't needed there.  The highest risk to their battle power now was the rookies that headed south to face the bulk of the enemy forces.  If they just charged inside that way they would be swarmed.  Even a pack of children can bring down a knight if they all pile on them at once.

"Boss, I'll support the southern advance!"  He raised his voice, which few had heard to date.  It wasn't the typical way of addressing a prince but it would reduce the odds of an overlooked enemy targeting him because of careless words.  After all, the greatest irony is for a mercenary to accidentally cause the death of their own employer.

With his intention stated, Trace began dashing to the south.  The sound of arrows striking the ground and magic assailing the walls above meant that he wasn't likely to be of immediate use.  Still, he would be another target to distract any remaining archers.  But, his objective was the enemies that he could engage himself.  Reducing the enemy's power was the best way to protect their own.

The rookie on the horse seemed to be alright, just a couple nicks, and was working on silencing those archers above.  She had promise.  Battles required communication but it was entirely different from social situations.  Everything on the battlefield was about surviving and winning.  It was easy to know what to say and when... and when not.  Promising or not, she was a rookie and Trace decided not to distract her.  Instead he continued bolting past her, boots sliding in the dust as he rounded the corner and saw a lancer and a wounded axe bandit moving away from the entrance.  Clearly, they were going to attack the group that was attacking from the south.

But, he wasn't sure that he could make it in time.  If he could, he would finish off the axe wielder with a swift lunge to his vitals.  But, that would be it.  He would need to slow down after running so far so quickly or he would suffer in his next fight.  The lancer was almost guaranteed to reach those in the south before Trace could recover his stamina.


[/cell]
[cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/QzyCrZx.jpg[/img]
[center]_________________________
Status: [color=lawngreen]Lightly Injured, Winded[/color]
[/center][u]Class[/u]: Recruit
[u]Inventory[/u]:[list][*]Iron Lance (3/3)[*]Vulnerary
[/list]

Exp:75/75
[/cell][/table]