And with that she lunged forward, her fading divine armor scattering glimmering gold in her wake, spearpoint poised to impale the commander's face clean through. Yet all was a feint, for at the last moment the broad spearhead pivoted to cleave along the shaft of his warhammer and take off his fingers in one clean sweep.

The Commander, surprisingly agile for his size bent his neck to dodge the incoming jab. He was astounded when the spear veered downward and slithered along the shaft, which seemed to be intended to injure his gripping fingers. The blade of Mireille's spear crowbarred into his grip, but rather than move his hands away, he smiled at the shallow tear on his palm, and the opportunity to clutch the spear with his iron grip.

He would not let go. The Captain tightened his grip, both on his adversary's weapon and on the shaft of his war hammer. The blade of the spear bit the skin, but barely blood could be seen, as if under that normal-looking epidermis were bones made of steel and sinews made of metal. With a rowdy strength, he yanked the spear toward him and at the same time shoved the protruding end of his Warhammer toward Mirielle's midsection.

"Uraaaahhh!"

****

Carmen was still desperately trying to overcome the excruciating pain on his forehead. To him, the world was upside down and drowned in the ringing noise that added to the burning sensation in his brain. He tried to breathe, and only by then he could get rid of the ringing and start hearing something else.

"Carmen! Get ahold of yourself, your work is not done yet!"

Ah yes, Mirielle. He could sense her presence and sense her zeal radiating in the air. Carmen still couldn't open both of his eyes, it was unnaturally warm, and felt like his own blood could sear his eyeballs.

Gritting his teeth and enduring the pain, Carmen reached for his sword, trying with all of his might to open his eyes again. He raised his shield, trying to make sense of where the shot was fired from, he could see a glint of fire, broken walls, and panicking soldiers.

"Mirielle! We have to get out of here!"

The initial exchange revealed that Mirielle was utterly outmatched, at least when it comes to strength and durability. Her strike impacted what felt like iron bars, the jarring rattle spreading up her arms, and the spear was caught before it even had the chance to slide off with the momentum. Even though she draw first blood it didn't even felt like a win with how the easterner seemingly ignored the wound.

Fucking physical enhancers.

Carmen said something, but she was a bit too busy not getting smeared on the ground to properly pay attention. Much less replying. In a not unexpected but still entirely unwelcome feat of strength her foe yanked at her weapon, intent on dragging her straight toward an incoming blow. She loosened her grip at her spear, footwork rapidly shifting as the engraved shaft scraped and heated her gloves from the friction, grabbing and twisting herself at the last second to swirl out of the hammerhead trajectory. Her hair fluttered from the crackling shockwave of the maul's passing, leaving no illusion that had it been a direct hit it would've knocked her halfway into the grave, armor be damned.

Fucking physical enhancers.

Hobnailed boots dug furrows into the ground, the ex-inquisitor still holding onto the spear locked in place by tyrranical might. In a few seconds the commander will reset his stance at which point she had to let go or suffer dire consequences, but Mirielle loathe to give up on her symbol of justice. Her evasion had brought her a short respite for one last ditch effort. It'll have to do.

Divine energy pulsed from her dwindling reserve, leaving just about a quarter after the miracles expended through the day. It coursed from her core into her arms, entering the spear which immediately set aglow with blazing gold. An illusory spear overlaid the material, its radiant warmth resembling a midday sun to all but the garrison commander who should suffer the full wrath of the sun's fury.

Mirielle disengaged backward as the holy lance discharged, retrieving her spear with her if her foe let go from the heat. The divine projectile seemingly launched into the distance at first, but it'll curve up before coming back to crash onto the commander from above. A smiting well-deserved, and let none ever say otherwise.

Carnatia watched as she successfully dispatched the targets, before activating her mirror image spell, as eight copies of Carnatia appeared around her. Outnumbered in such a chaotic environment, Carnatia was not sure that she could dodge all attacks even with her prescient defence, and so, Carnatia intended to increase her chance of avoiding attacks coming at her.

She then watched as Carmen fell to the ground, before Mirielle's words allowed him to regain his bearings. Carmen then called for a retreat. While Carnatia agreed with the decision to retreat, it was not as if there was a clear escape path just yet. Carnatia determined that the best course of action was to help Mirielle take out the commander. The best case—albeit admittedly unlikely—scenario, it would demoralize his soldiers to stop fighting. But even in the worst-case scenario, it should disrupt the chains of command and help them to escape.

Taking advantage of the commander being locked in a contest of strength with Mirielle, as well as the blinding discharge from Mirielle's lance, Carnatia circled behind the commander, striking at his blind spot. Her copies moved with her, all attacking at different angles, though they could not actually harm the commander, Carnatia intended them to confound, as she moved to strike at his neck.

The commander would indeed reset and adjust his stance. Still gripping the spear, he extended his right foot forward, pushing the polearm toward Mirielle so her arm would no longer be outstretched. All to gain some distance, and he did; with one hand his hammer dived diagonally before returning up and brought down to smash Mireille's shoulder.

But the inquisitor disengaged her hold on the spear, leaving an enchantment so the contested weapon would emit a golden light. The searing light caused Melnik to drop the spear to the grass. Hammerhead landed harmlessly on the ground. As he bent forth, the spear turned upward and orbited for a second before coming down.

Melnik tried to dodge by taking a step backward but was unable to sufficiently predict the strike because of the spear's blinding light. The glowing lance impaled him on his left thigh.

____

Meanwhile, Amaris made her move, leaving the injured soldier at frightening speed after outstretching her chains to intimidate the incoming and surviving foes. But they were still far and would take a while to get here, and we had the carriage lined up between us and them.

So, taking down the commander would be the first priority. Amaris made a turn to attack the commander from behind. Chains fired when a holy lance struck him from above, but while the lance managed to pierce through his lightly protected leg, Amaris's chains could only dent the commander's steel breastplate.

___

Melnik turned, his wound was starting to sizzle but he still managed to muster a will to stand on his ground. Realizing that he had been flanked, his attention turned to Amaris and Carnathia. A lot of Carnathia, because what he saw now was nine carrotheads charging forth. He readied his hammer and swung at the incoming octuplets but his attack was for naught. Staggered as the seemingly invincible enemies were just a hair's breadth away from overpowering him, his fear was short-lived when the real Carnathia emerged from her mirror image and lunged forth, thrusting her rapier into the Commander's neck and cutting it sideways.

Blood sprayed the young baron's face when the commander stumbled backward, his hammer dropped, and his right hand pointed at Carnathia, eyes bulging as he looked at her in the eyes. After spinning and failing to keep his balance he fell, expiring on the ground.

____

Meanwhile, Carmen managed to stand upright. Either because of his fellow's inquisitor miracle or adrenaline, the captain could see the world clearer now; the rows of tents by the north had started burning and the closest path to reach them was by walking through a narrow passage between the fire and parked wagon.

He walked forth, unholstered his gun, and at the end of the front carriage, he aimed and shot. A soldier dead. Holstering his pistol back, he slid the shield back into his grip. The following soldier tried to attack him, but he deflected with his shield and buried his sword deep into the soldier's stomach.

"Stop forcing our hands, you heathens!"

In front of him, beside the wagons, two soldiers with a crossbow, and two with muskets aimed at him. The arbalests fired and Carmen raised his shield. Bolts bounced, and he spun to the side and leaned against the carriage. His sabre was ready, and the next bastard who tried to walk through this chokepoint would have his head cut open.

They had to get out of here, and when he was thinking about it, he witnessed the commander of the garrison fall with his throat sliced open.

---

As the watch towers have an attention towards the party inside.

Linceleste lead the way and goes out the edge of the tree-line to the east. Once she saw the edge part of the wall as they out of the tree-line, she rush to cross the road, will drop ice bomb to enemies when they respond to chase her down carefully as she was aware with her companion. Upon reaching the east wall, implanting the fire bomb to breach, will go to the safe distance and start the detonation.

Mirielle gasped for air, tension bleeding out of her form as the brief exchange ended with the commander felled by flanking maneuver. One that wouldn't have been necessary had she committed into a killing blow from the get go, instead it almost ended with her innards painting the packed dirt of the outpost.

A lesson in the danger of overconfidence. And greed.

"...ah. Carmen!" Sparing a short moment to retrieve her spear, the ex-inquisitor immediately jogged over to the previously downed captain. Carmen looked like he's doing better, but that's likely a mix of adrenaline and her own aura keeping him up. The cut still bled into his eye, and it needed bandaging soon. And then there's the information they gotta grab from the commander's tent before the fire beat them to it, and then getting out before said fire overwhelmed their position.

She gritted her teeth. This wasn't over yet.

"Amaris, clear those soldiers out! Carnatia, grab what documents you can from the commander's tent!" Mirielle barked at the other two, hoping that they'll listen despite her lack of rank to pull. Keeping her spear ready, she fished some bandage from her satchel and pressed it onto Carmen's wound. "Stay bloody still and keep the pressure, I'll hold this position. And Creator's sake, if there's some magical crap causing that pain you should have cleansed it already."

---

Osric sighed as he pulled on the lever of his rifle. Once again, the barrel spun and locked in place, the hammer ready to strike the powder so soon after his last shot. He saw both shooters on the west tower slump over, their muskets falling from their hands. Despite the second musketeer’s attempt to find their attacker. One tower down. They managed to get off a shot, but from where he was set up, he would not know who or what that red stripe was firing at. Hopefully it didn’t hit any of his allies.

Many of the soldiers stationed outside quickly fled back inside the fort. Lynx’s explosions alerted everyone of an attack occurring inside. This was good, that mean he could remain where he was for the time being, focusing more on the people those on the ground would have more difficulty with. The east tower was momentarily blinded by something, perhaps Mirielle’s armor made of light, again. Either way, there was ample chance they would recover and start to shooting as well.

With no other distractions coming his way from the fort, Osric focused on the first of the two men still perched on the east tower. There was already enough trouble on the ground for those inside as it were. Having to not worry about what was above them would help increase their odds of victory, or escape. Once he was sure his shot was lined, he pulled the trigger. With a flash and boom, the drum rifle pushed back into his shoulder, his hands keeping it in place. Osric chambered the next round.

Seeing the commander fall, Carnatia swiftly turned around and surveyed the room for any signs of immediate danger.

It was regrettable that it had to come down to them killing the commander. But being held prisoner was not an option, and once a fight broke out, taking down the enemy's commander was the logical course of action. Especially given the fact that they were outnumbered, they cannot afford to take it easy on them. She remembered her Father's words, words that came from an experienced Westernant General. 'Mercy is the privilege of the strong. In battle, the weak have no option but to ruthlessly strike with all they have.'

And in this battle, outnumbered and surrounded, deep in the enemy's territory, they were the 'weaker' side, so to speak.

Glancing at the rest of the group, it seemed as if Mirielle was taking care of their captain, who seemed to have been beleaguered by something. Carnatia started to approach them before Mirelle commanded her to search the commander's tent.

Nodding, she replied, "Understood. I'll leave my mirror images here as decoys, just in case."

With the rest of her illusionary copies spreading around the group, trying to draw any incoming attacks, Carnatia started to shift through the commander's tent, looking for the familiar sensation prompted by her Golden Prerogative skill. While typically the skill would lead her to valuables such as jewellery, and indeed any such a thing should trigger her senses, her true objective was to seek any sensitive and important documents. After all, sensitive and important documents were also 'valuables' both in a metaphorical sense and in a literal sense, as there were parties that would pay a lot of gold for such documents, information brokers for one. Carnatia had no intention of selling the documents to information brokers if it related to their investigation, as it was a breach of her duties, but she was more than happy to take advantage of the fact that such things being 'valuables' might fall under her Golden Prerogative skill's purview.

Carmen accepted the bundle of white linen, pinched the end, and let the rest roll down to the grass. Placing his hat on a wheel, he noticed a conflagration formed in the middle of the garrison. Thankfully the spreading flames would delay the approaching soldiers, giving him and Mirielle enough time to roll the bandage on his forehead, tie a knot, and let some good portion of it dangle on the back of his head.

"I wish it was that easy." Carmen gritted his teeth when Mirielle helped him stand straight. "There is no magic at play here. But one thing for sure it is no less vile!"

Grimacing when wearing his hat again, the captain looked around. His eyes darted at the gate, that was suddenly breached open by the patrolling soldiers from the outside. At first, their attention was on the fire, broken wall, and burning tents, but their sergeants, (bless his sharp perception) quickly pointed out the main culprit.

Still fighting against dizziness and pain, Carmen readied his blade and turned at Carnathia, unaware that it was a mirror image. "Senorita De Valmont, we are leaving! Mirielle. Amaris! Double time!"

He thought it was a most sensible option, and without waiting, The Captain fished out the compass as he jogged forth, eyes fixed at the unlocked gate, now guarded by at least six soldiers. As far as his limited observation was concerned, they were the only thing that stood between him and his escape. "This is Carmen. Ready our horses, we are escaping from the main gate! Senorita Lynx, do you---"

Suddenly an explosion blasted the wall near the commander's tent.

___

With the rest of her illusionary copies spreading around the group, trying to draw any incoming attacks, Carnatia started to shift through the commander's tent, looking for the familiar sensation prompted by her Golden Prerogative skill.

Sill inside the tent, Carnathia managed to obtain several parchments likely containing important information about the occupation and limited intelligence about their enemies. However, one particular keg seemed to be the most striking object in that humble dwelling. It was no bigger than a lager barrel commonly found in rural taverns, but strangely this one was painted red, had no tap, but it had a valve secured by a metal seal. If one tried to take it from its holder, they would realize that it was surprisingly light for its size, like filled with sand rather than anything liquid.

When Carnathia busied herself rummaging through important documents or valuables, suddenly an explosion shocked the earth and it looked like there was an avalanche bulldozing from the outside. The canvas partition gave in, buckling under the sudden weight of dislodged logs, and the beam that supported the tent broke and fell. Some of the debris wedged the exit but thankfully Carnathia was on the west side of that large tent, knocked down by the falling tent yet unharmed by falling logs.

Not far from her, the lamps had been knocked down and snuffed out under the falling canvas.

Outside, fire from the bomb started to consume the woods, and soon the tent itself. The falling logs, and probably the explosion had crushed the two earthware vates nearby, spilling their contents onto the grass and nearby tent. The liquid was clear, and reeks of strong fish odor. Right now it was just a few inches away from the flames, and both were still spreading with alarming speed.

___

The last sharpshooter on the east tower looked up from his hideout. The flashes from the explosion had deterred him from taking any action, thinking that it could be another burning light from that foreign inquisitor.

Now he braved himself to observe. The commander was dead. Killed by those intruders. The fire was burning the garrison, and half of his friends were in complete disarray. He checked the gunpowder in his musket and aimed. While his friends warned him about the raid, he raised the barrel of his gun, trying to take a bead on the incoming invader. Staying low, he tried to scan the surroundings, from the explosion site to outside of the garrison. In a sense, It was impossible to assemble an army on the north side, so it had to be coming from the east or west.

And while observing, he caught a glimpse of two riders, just when the east wall was suddenly torn apart by another explosion.

With no other distractions coming his way from the fort, Osric focused on the first of the two men still perched on the east tower. There was already enough trouble on the ground for those inside as it were. Having to not worry about what was above them would help increase their odds of victory, or escape. Once he was sure his shot was lined, he pulled the trigger. With a flash and boom, the drum rifle pushed back into his shoulder, his hands keeping it in place. Osric chambered the next round.

Steadying his breath, a female blonde was already in his sight when suddenly a bullet plowed through his lower cheek. Red mist sprayed out from his destroyed jaws. Couldn't scream and in the process of a slow and painful death, nobody could help him now, nor he could call for any.

It's hard to imagine that such torturous experience from a mere graze could be fielded from mundane means... well, at least not in this manner. A substance that was effective even at a minor graze, can be procured in sufficient number that the musketeers in this backwater place can peruse freely, whipe being safe enough to handle without contamination risk? She never heard of any.

Mirielle shook the errant thought away. That was a line of thoughts better suited to smarter people. For now, they needed to get the hell out of this place.

"Wait, Carnatia-" The ex-inquisitor started as Carmen went off, but her words were interrupted by a fiery explosion that crumpled the dead commander's tent. She braced with her left side as the heat washed over, bits of wooden debris bouncing off the armored side. Yellow eyes flickered with newfound urgency, looking at the few remaining Carnatias standing in place looking ready for a fight.

Her heart sank as none of them reacted like a normal human would. Turning back and forth from the exit and the now ruined tent, it didn't take long for Mirielle to come into a decision as a newfound sense of urgency filled her voice.

"Carnatia's still in there!" She went into a jog before breaking into a sprint, shouting to fight against the ringing in her ears. "Cover each other and get out, I'll catch up! You both better stay alive!"

She didn't wait for a reply, quickly reaching the tent that had collapsed in the most spectacular fashion. At least it wasn't on fire, but the promise of immolation wasn't far with how the hot wind licked her skin. And then there's the telltale stink of some sort of whale oil, earning the quartermaster of this place a severe mental scolding. Who even thought that it's a good idea to place such volatile stuff there?

Taking a deep breath, lungs protesting at the acrid warm air, Mirielle suppressed a cough as she yelled at the heap. "Carnatia! You alive in there?!"

Taking measured aim, she poked at the canvas heap with her spear to test the waters and, feeling no resistance, carefully cut open a new entrance.

Carnatia examined the papers in the room, putting them in her pouch, before turning her attention to the intriguing keg. The keg seemed to be light for its size, she might not be the most proficient in matters of weightlifting, but she was able to determine that it ought to be heavier, judging from the size.

As she was pondering, her prescient defence warned her of an incoming danger, as she received flashes of a vision which showed an imminent explosion. Since her Golden Prerogative skill marked the keg to be 'valuable' this gunpowder must have some unique properties that could be a vital clue, so Carnatia grabbed the keg, before narrowly avoiding the worst of the explosion's aftermath. As she regained her bearings, a brief look at her surroundings had her surmised that she was somewhat trapped, but she could probably cut through the canvas linings of the tent.

Taking a deep breath, lungs protesting at the acrid warm air, Mirielle suppressed a cough as she yelled at the heap. "Carnatia! You alive in there?!"

Taking measured aim, she poked at the canvas heap with her spear to test the waters and, feeling no resistance, carefully cut open a new entrance.

A possibility that Mirielle also noted, evidently.

"I am fine, Lady Mirielle! My thanks for opening an exit," Carnatia replied as she rushed to where Mirielle is, the keg in tow.

"Apologies, but I have reasons to believe the contain of this keg might be important, let us go," she then said to Mirielle.

Amaris propelled herself forward like a shadow of death, swinging her thorny chains in a wide sweep to welcome the returning patrollers.

The monstrous iron snapped and tore the first three legs they caught. Crushing the bone and shredding anything that was not protected with a horrifying crisp. Three patrollers were incapacitated in one sweep. Two foot-patrollers, the ones who impacted the least flung to the side and fell when the chains dented their graves.

____

Carmen felt a sense of relief when he saw Carnathia emerge from the falling tent. As much as he was eager to get out of this damned garrison, no one would be left behind.

The won on his forehead throbbed again.

It somehow reminded him of the falling priests. Their suffering and their demise in this hostile foreign land. The yellings and threats from the approaching soldiers did little to ease his burning nerves. There was suspicion, and now it turned out to be a strong realization, that these soldiers were responsible for the death of his brethren.

Carmen rushed toward the tower, composing himself as he saw the first three patrollers get incapacitated by Amaris' chains. The other two were knocked, still combat-effective, but they were the least of his concern.

The ranged unit had positioned themselves behind the downed patroller, aiming their weapons at Amaris. The arbalest shot first, and the Sarkazian deftly swung her chain to swat the incoming bolt. Carmen quickly picked up the rifle from the falling sharpshooter, shouldered it, and fired at the patroller's musketeer before he could fire first.

The recoil punched his shoulder stronger than anticipated, and the smoke was thicker and more acrid. The enemy musketeer fell with a bullet in his chest. But there was more.

Dropping the rifle, Carmen rushed to the Amaris' side. At least ten soldiers were approaching them, and at least two musketeers were on a stand-by next to the dwindling fire from the explosion earlier.

As he reached the fireplace between the tower and the gate, The captain brought up his shield and shouted.

"Amaris! Get out of the firing zone!"