I'm going to tell you how to get your town back.

***Major Anmar***

Major Anmar, was sitting with his feet propped up on a table int the Fenniton town hall. The town hall had been re-purposed as a makeshift officer's mess, where they could drink away from the rank and file.

He had just been regaling his two Senior Captains, Moroe and Lucas, the men in charge of the two companies and his direct subordinates, of his brush with death in the Gemlock Mountains, back when he was just a Lieutenant.

Anmar was getting on in years and had been in the army for at least twenty of them. He had the black and tan pelt of the eastern provinces of Raxia and was starting to get a little overweight. The duties of a Major were somewhat more sedentary that that of the more junior ranks. He found himself a slave to his desk more often than not.

He didn't really need to come on this little expedition but had jumped at the chance to get out of his office in the battalion headquarters. Anything to mix it up a little.

He had found the whole thing rather disappointing though, the townsfolk barely put up a fight at all.

He sighed mulling over his drink, only half-listening to the men in front of him. It was a good thing they'd set up this little area, he needed to blow off some steam.

He definitely couldn't do that in front of the rank and file.

It didn't befit commissioned officers to fraternise too closely with the enlisted men. It was unprofessional and could lead to complications, especially where alcohol was involved. His Crusaders certainly were a rowdy bunch, it was best to let them vent their various frustrations on one another, rather than an officer.

Image and reputation were an important thing in the military. If a private soldier were to strike an officer, that private soldier would have to be punished most harshly, so as not to encourage that kind of behaviour across the unit.

Equally, if an officer were to make an absolute ass of himself in front of the troops. The soldiers under his command would lose faith in the competence of their direct superior. Doubting whether your commander is fit for the task at hand? Why, that could even effect things on the battlefield!

Besides, executing his own men for disciplinary issues left a bad taste in his mouth. The best way to avoid such complications was simply to stick to one's own peer group.

That way, any rowdy behaviour could be kept under wraps. Officers were forbidden from gossiping with the troops about other officers. In turn, the officers tended to look the other way whenever a private soldier turned up to parade with a fat-lip.

It was a tried and tested system, 'don't ask, don't tell'. For the most part, it worked.

However, Major Anmar was starting to get quite annoyed at the noises emanating from outside the hall.

What on earth were they doing out there?

There was much more shouting than usual, a fight maybe? No that wasn't it.

Suddenly the doors burst open, and Captain Foley burst in.

"Sirs! The Felinians! They are escaping en-masse up the northern road!"

Everyone looked to the Major for direction.

"Pox!" Anmar spat, throwing his drink to the floor, the cogs ticking in his mind momentarily, before his training and experience took over, "Get every available soldier after them. They are only civilians. We just need to catch up to them. They have no fighting ability, or weaponry. They will likely try to hide rather than fight."

"But sir, most of the men they.." Captain Foley started.

"I don't give a rats ass how blasted drunk they are! If they can stand, they can work. Get after them, round them up! I will not have this stain on our reputation!"

Anmar bellowed his commands at Foley before turning to the rest of the room.

"The rest of you, get your men together and get going, don't let them bumble out of the gate one-by-one like a pack of idiots! Get organised, get moving! And for the love of Fenrir, sober up!" he booted the small table across the room in his anger, shattering it into kindling.

His officers quickly got to work; the room was a blur of activity as everybody rushed their separate ways out the doors into the streets.

Anmar sat down and massaged his temples with his hands, trying to clear the alcohol induced cloud on his mind.

This was going to be a long night.

***Boots***

Boots and Peter hid in the long grass, outside the camp. They were waiting for Eric and Deric to make their way back to them.

Eric and Derek had been tasked with using the horses as a distraction, they had tied small bundles of hay to the horse's saddles and set them ablaze to get them to flee down the road. They had taken them the three hundred metres or so up the road to the junction, to create a bit of distance before starting the deception.

It was a slightly cruel tactic, but the animals would likely only be slightly singed in the process.

The horse's saddles lit up one by one, and the whinnied cries of the beasts echoes throughout the night.

Boots vowed to make it up to them if he ever got the chance.

There was shouting at the gate, Boots couldn't quite make it out from his vantage point in the long grass though.

The tent flaps suddenly burst open and all the men within piled out.

Boots instinctively hunched down as the commander of the men started shouting various commands. They appeared quite shocked at the sight of the empty cages and ran around like headless chickens, hastily trying to confirm that all the cages were in fact, empty.

There was a series of shouts and panicked arm flailing at the sight of the lights on the road ahead. From this distance any onlooker could easily mistake the lights for lanterns. Boots was relying on panic and a forced sense of haste.

No prisoner trying to hide would equip a lantern, where would they even get that many lanterns from?

Boots was relying on the fact that people believe what they see in the moment, and don't question it until later. He also knew that when acting in haste, critical observations are even less likely to arise.

Their commander eventually got his men under control and started off down the road after the riderless horses. Just as Boots expected him to.

After a few short minutes, Boots eventually noticed the two brothers crouching in the grass, moving towards his location. They were popping up periodically, trying to spot them in the darkness

He patted Peter on the arm, and they moved towards them.

They quickly linked up and headed back towards the forest. The sounds coming from within the town were deafening.

'It must be chaos in there.' Boots thought to himself.

He hoped that Roman and the others were ok.

Boots and his team finally made it to the edge of the forest.

"Eric, Deric, stay here, keep eyes on the gate and remain vigilant. We will be back soon."

Eric and Deric nodded their acknowledgement quickly taking up positions in the undergrowth.

Boots was quietly impressed with their adjustment to the ways of soldiering, it had been a trial by fire up to this point for them. They had acquitted themselves well so far.

After a quick dust off, he took Peter with him and set off running through the woods.

Gerald, Fiona, Oliver, and the townsfolk should all have left well ahead of them.

It was time to get to the meetup point.

***Fiona***

The sounds of logging filled the woods as Fiona darted from group to group in the clearing.

She had busied herself with trying to keep people calm and organising them into groups like Boots had requested.

It was hard work.

She had separated the children and gathered them all together with the elderly, everybody else was helping to fell trees and fashion simple wooden spears out off the wood. It was hard to get people to work together at the best of times. Although it seems a crisis can produce a common goal.

All she had to do was keep them working until Boots got back.

They had transported most of the supplies from the old camp back with them in the carts. There were limited tools, but they had to make do.

They had managed to salvage some weapons from the snatchers camp, but not enough for one and a half thousand felinians.

Not that all of them could fight, she supposed.

Men and women of fighting age numbered around eight hundred. Everybody else was either too old, too young, or otherwise incapable.

She had told them when they arrived that they had to make spears to defend themselves. And that they had to do it fast.

She also told them Boots was going to fill them in on the rest of the details for the plan when he arrived. But they had to trust her for the time being and just make as many spears as they could.

She also had to stress multiple times that they wouldn't be taking the Crusaders head on in an open field.

Soldiers were scary to normal folk and rightly so. They were trained to kill. While most civilians were masters of their respected crafts, a soldier's craft is combat. You wouldn't ask a cobbler to assault a castle and you wouldn't ask a soldier to make you some shoes. Both professions require training, discipline, practice, and knowledge that is exclusive to that trade. That's just the way the world works.

Fiona made her way over to Gerald to see if he needed any help.

Gerald had been busing himself with organising some sentries to be posted out, he still hadn't caught his breath from his last little trip back to the edge of the wood to collect people.

Gods he was old.

"Ah, Miss Fiona, how goes it?" Gerald said, forcibly catching his breath in a vain attempt to retain some dignity in his dishevelled state.

"It's going ok, we'll probably have enough spears for most people by the time Boots is back, are you ok?"

"Oh, ah, I'm fine, just ah," Gerald wiped the sweat from his hands on his tunic, "my age is catching up to me."

"You… hide it well?" Fiona said, trying to sound sincere.

Gerald's eyes locked sternly with hers.

"I'll just go, find…something to do." Fiona said, turning to make herself scarce.

Just at that moment Boots emerged from the undergrowth with Peter, startling a nearby sentry.

"Who goes there!" the young felinian waved his makeshift spear menacingly at Boots. Although the tip of the spear was shaking uncontrollably, making it hard for Boots to take him seriously.

"My name is Boots, please calm yourself sir. I am felinian, like you, I mean you no harm."

"O-oh good! I-I mean…'ahem, on your way then, good sir."

Boots nodded politely at the lad and headed into the camp, meandering his way through the hustle and bustle.

Fiona was glad he was ok.

She actually breathed a small sigh of relief at the sight of him.

But she wouldn't tell him that.

"Nice to see you Boots! Glad the guard didn't frighten you off." Fiona said with a hint of sarcasm as he reached the carts in the centre of camp.

"A most fearsome warrior indeed." Boots said, tail flicking.

After quickly surveying the scene, Boot climbed atop one of the carts.

"Gather round, all of you! Down tools for now! Come, listen to me!"

The racket of logging and chatter died down, people turning to see who was addressing them.

Slowly they started making their way to positions where they could hear Boots.

Eventually he had the whole town gathered around him.

"Thank you, everyone. We have a choice to make tonight, and it is not an easy one. But I will present you with two options."

The crowd waited expectantly for him to continue.

"We can; disappear into the hills, scatter, run. Hope that a neighbouring nation will take us in, if we can exit Raxia's borders. This is the choice of solitude; you would have to fend for yourselves as a group this large will quickly be located by the army. It is not impossible to survive this way, but it will be a hard, arduous future that many of you will not survive."

The crowd waited with bated breath, option one did not sound too pleasant, but were there any other choices?

"Or, we can retake the town." Boots said cheerfully, a smile on his face.

A wave of whispering and murmurs swept through the crowd.

Impossible!

Was he crazy?

Who was he anyway?!

Fiona caught the eye of Gerald; they exchanged a wry smile. They knew Boots was just warming up.

"Apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Boots." he paused for effect.

'I'm going to tell you how to get your town back."