For two entire weeks, the modified rotation worked well for the units, and they managed to hold their position without a single casualty.
The same could not be said of the other positions along the flank, and every day another group of reinforcements came past them from Sylvan Coven’s main city until one day, a very ragged-looking group arrived in the back of a pickup truck wearing tattered Morgana Coven uniforms.
It was only a handful of people, not enough to be anyone’s reinforcements, even if they were wearing Sylvan Coven uniforms. At best, Wolfe thought that they might be injured message runners being brought to deliver their messages and get treatment at the main line.
But then they were dropped off near his camp.
The truck didn’t stop. It only slowed down a few kilometres away and tossed them out. It was a strange situation since they were behind the hill that the bunker had been dug into and couldn’t actually see the camp from where they were.
“Lieutenant, I think we just got reinforced, or one of the side units did, but they’re lost and behind the hill,” Wolfe informed Priya, pointing to the location of the Witches.
“Go fetch them. I called for a squad of labourers to be sent by the Logistics Department to come to help us make a permanent camp. They should be trained craftsmen from one of the Covens. But be careful. They often send prisoners with the craftsmen to do the work, and they might attack you, thinking that they can flee and be free.” She replied.
“Got it. There’s only a handful. It’s unlikely that I would be in any danger.” Wolfe agreed, then jogged out of the camp to retrieve their craftsmen.
The group stopped when they saw Wolfe come over the hill and then fell to their knees, sobbing in apparent relief.
“Mister Wolfe, it is so good to see you. We thought we’d been left to die in the wilderness.” One of the workers, a woman no more than twenty years old with mud-caked black hair, cried.
As he got closer, Wolfe realized that they were all wearing collars and manacles, marking them as prisoners, and all five were Witches. Familiar ones as well, since Wolfe had helped lift their paralyzed bodies out of the grave that the bandits had dug for them in the woods.
“What are you five doing here? Shouldn’t you still be recovering?” Wolfe asked.
“They announced that we were drafted, then fed us a low-grade healing potion and sent us to the front lines. Which was bad enough, but when we got there, we were ordered to charge the monsters without the main force or any of the soldiers in the camp as a backup force. So we cut a path through the monsters and ran.
But the Coven caught us a few weeks later, and now here we are, with our magic locked away by these collars, our Familiars dead, and sentenced to death on the front lines for escaping death on the front lines,” the Witch explained with a deep hatred and bitterness clear in her voice and her eyes.
“That is far too short of an explanation to make sense of what the hell is going on over on the main lines. But first, come with me. I’ll get you to the camp and cleaned up.”
There was a long chain in the snow attached to the whole string of Witches, and they were just looking at it, not moving.
“Let me guess, enchanted chain?” Wolfe asked.
“Yes, to keep us from running. We can’t move unless someone is holding it or it’s up off the ground,” the tearful Witch sighed.
A surge of magic from the chain tried to bind Wolfe the instant he touched it, and he realized his mistake. It was made to bind prisoners of the Witches, and despite his status, he was still a living Magi and a cursed Demon. He was the enemy of the Coven simply for existing.
A black manacle had appeared on his right wrist when he grabbed the chain, and he could feel it trying to subdue his power. It was trying to lock him down, assuming him to be a freshly captured criminal.
That wouldn’t do, so Wolfe drew all the power he could and forced it into the chain, then began to empty his storage, overwhelming the enchantments that had been placed on it by the Witch that locked the work team in and bending them to his will.
There weren’t all that many witches in the Morgana Coven that were stronger than Wolfe was, and until the enchantment was in place, it was a test of pure power to see who would prevail between the spellcaster and Wolfe.
Seconds later, the chain fell free of all six people in the area, then seemed to retract into his cuff before Wolfe felt a new link form in his mind as lines of text from the Inheritance spell appeared on his arm.
[Followers updated]
[Familiars] x3
[Blood Pacts] x2
[Prisoners] x5
[Sentence Remaining] life
“Well, that was annoying. Follow me, we are going to the camp, and we can talk there.” Wolfe informed them, and all five scrambled to their feet.
“Oh good, you found them. Which one is the artisan?” Priya asked.
“That would be me. The name is Mio, Madam Lieutenant.” The only Witch who had spoken so far replied.
“Get cleaned up, and then come see me. I don’t care what your crime was. You’re here to help build a long-term camp.”
None of them moved. They all just looked at Wolfe.
“Oh, there is a shower stall over there between the tents. The building is heated, but the water is likely to be freezing cold by now. Make sure you heat it well so you don’t catch a cold.” Wolfe replied, but still, they didn’t move.
“Get washed up and then follow the Lieutenant’s orders for the day.” He whispered once he realized they could only follow his direct orders and nobody else’s as long as he had control of the chain.
“Lieutenant Priya, we need to talk. There’s been a minor issue.” Wolfe informed the unit leader quietly, then held up his arm to show the black cuff, which was mostly hidden under his armour spell.
“Since when are you a Prison Warden?” Priya laughed, then motioned toward the bunker so they could talk privately.
“The chain tried to grab me when I went to fetch them, and I had to bend it to my will by overpowering the original enchantment with brute force, but I don’t know how to get it off.” He told her once any potentially curious onlookers couldn’t hear them.
“You don’t. All of the Prison Wardens are death row inmates with their sentences commuted who are assigned the task of supervising other prisoners. The warden contract will be automatically nullified once all of their prisoners’ sentences are up. Basically, once they’re all free, so are you.” Priya explained.
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“Then, once they die on the lines. Untrained prisoners don’t last long in combat even if they try.” Priya shrugged.
“You don’t understand. They’re Witches from the academy. From what I have gathered, the Morgana main line ordered them to go on a solo suicide mission into the monster tide the moment that they arrived, and they refused, which got them a deserter sentence.” Wolfe told her sadly.
“We need more details about what is going on over there. I’ll talk to them as they work, but you’re in charge of them, so make sure they work hard.
The sentence for desertion is meant to be humiliating and demeaning, the others will ask questions if you treat them too well, and that will definitely get back to command. Sylvan Coven often takes in deserters, but we can only help the ones who haven’t been caught and sentenced.”
“Alright, once they’re cleaned up, I’ll cast an armour spell on them and get them to work.”
Priya looked confused. “Were you not listening? Why would prisoners sentenced to death get armour? Be smarter here, or we will have an Inquisitor in the camp before you know it. Just have them wear their old uniforms if you’re not going to make them work naked in the snow.”
Wolfe shuddered at the thought. It was well below freezing today, and he simply didn’t have it in him to be that cruel.
“Will anyone care if I let them build our new camp with magic? They are Witches, after all.” Wolfe asked.
“That’s fine. But no armour spells and no attack magic, even if they’ve got to fight. Prisoners aren’t allowed magical weapons. It’s the law. You really do have a soft spot for Witches, don’t you?” Priya sighed, unsure how to explain to Wolfe the cultural implications of having been sentenced to death for Desertion.