text: [Themes: fantasy, humor, fantasy, action]
  
  The soldiers form up. You count 17 of them, including Alexander. That leaves 16 under his command, a few more bodies than the typical Alteran company. They do strange things in Magda. Of course that means there are too many to fight on your own. Your first objective is to free the men. With numbers evened out, along with the chaos that your surprise will bring, the odds are fairly good. The act isn't to save the lives of the men; they'll be returned safely. The act is to save your own life within Alteran. Redding be damned. He's already made his choice. The hell you won't make your own.
  
  Four rows of four line up, the bound Alteran soldiers sent to the middle to be closely guarded. That leaves eight in front, and eight behind if you exclude Alexander and Redding from the equation. A plan begins to form in your mind. With the company free, tearing through eight surprised soldiers of Magda will be no problem. You've seen how deadly the company can be. Introduce a little urgency from prisoner's bonds, and they'll fight like crazed animals to be free. They may have questions in your involvement, but once the action begins their training and instinct should take over.
  
  They put you next to Corporal Redding, perhaps so he can keep an eye on you. You suppose it's just Redding now, or whichever rank he holds in Magda. You've never heard of a spy holding such a low rank as corporal. Typically, they're above even that of a captain's rank. Another realization hits you. If Redding was posing as a lowly corporal, then of course success followed the man since he's operating at a level far below his station. Hopefully that's the last one for the day. Truthfully, you're damn tired of discovering truths that long hid themselves as lies within your life.
  
  You use the overgrowth of the forest as your ally. As the group travels through an especially thick section, you act, suddenly turning on the soldiers marching behind you. The first one's breastplate makes a perfect kicking target. You push the sole of your foot out, stamping it onto the breastplate, leaving behind a dirty imprint of your boot. Unprepared for the assault, he staggers back into the waiting arms of Bastus. Then the swarm begins.
  
  The bound company use their tied wrists as clubs, some reaching for the man's broadsword. With the broadsword in hand, one-by-one, each removes themselves of their bonds. You pull your flintlock, press the hammer back, and fill the jungle air with gunpowder smoke. The shot blasts through a Magda soldier's face, and he drops to the dirt like a board, his legs stiff. You toss his broadsword to the company. There's no going back now; blood has been spilled. You repeat the process with another nearby soldier. Alteran flintlock, standard issue. Double barreled.
  
  "Redding, you daft fool. Control your man!" Alexander shouts from the front of the group.
  
  Through the chaos, you barely hear Redding's response. "Been trying for years. The kid's a wildfire." Probably not the one Alexander was looking for.
  
  A scream from the company. One has fallen. You cut your way towards them, then a soldier of Magda blocks you off. Benjamin. He looks pleased to see you, no doubt approving of your decision to fight. It's written all over his face. He'll put you down, and they'll probably slap a goddamn medal on his chest for doing so. There are harsh consequences for breaking the civility of war.
  
  Benjamin stands in front of you, broadsword and hand buckler gleaming from the small amount of light that made it through the canopy. It might as well be a cloudless sunny day for you after traveling through the underbelly of the ruins and the darkness within. The sight advantage, yours. The superior numbers, weapons, and armor, his. The inside of your mouth suddenly feels rather dry.
  
  > Flintlock
  Alteran flintlock, standard issue. Double barrelled. It's gotten you out of trouble more times than you can count. It dropped the Blackbird lich not hours before. Once again you call upon the weapon. Two shots already fired, you need to reload quickly. Reloading the weapon during combat is no easy thing. It requires focus. It requires steady hands. Fortunately, the Alteran version of the weapon helps in that regard.
  
  Rather than stuffing bullets down the barrel, your finger finds a switch to the outside of the weapon, in-between the trigger and safety. The flintlock hinges open, the barrel angling down towards the dirt, revealing the open chamber. You pop two bullets in, taken from the ammunition at your belt, and snap the weapon closed with a jerk of your hand upwards. A feeding mechanism within the gun automatically refreshes the gunpowder needed, considering the compartment holds ample volume. The days of an infantryman carrying loose gunpowder are long in the past.
  
  Your eyes draw to the man's forehead. It becomes your entire focus. The target. Nothing else matters.
  
  The flintlock is raised to firing position, your arm conditioned to hold the weight of the weapon from countless hours of use. Your pointer finger on the trigger is patient. It's been disciplined over the years, at first wanting to pull instantly. No, you make it wait for the perfect moment. You slow your exhale, eyes on the target, the space between Benjamin's two eyes, and fire.
  
  Expecting a hole to appear through his head, you're surprised when, instead, a gleaming hand buckler blocks your vision of the target--and the bullet itself. Frustrated as the set up was perfect, you cock back the hammer. One bullet left in the chamber, not enough time to reload again.
  
  Benjamin advances, a predator heavily defended and armed with his broadsword. In a few steps he'll be upon you. The next bullet must land. His vitals protected, you do the only thing you can. Your vision lowers. So, too, does the flintlock. You put a bullet through his thigh. With a scream, he collapses to one knee. You take the opportunity to step around him, as your main goal is to reunite with the company, now freed.
  
  Sharp pain ignites throughout your body. Somehow Benjamin managed to lunge several feet, wounded, and strike back. His arm is extended out, the length of his broadsword traveling the rest of the distance between you, the point piercing your lower back. The pain freezes you for a moment, and a rush of clarity soon follows the pain. The other soldiers of Magda are closing in around you.
  
  "Hit me first and I'll hit back, worse." Benjamin utters Redding's words before strength leaves his arm. He slumps down clutching his wounded leg. The others close in. There's not enough time to reload.