Day 3 of the blitz campaign. Green Village.
The first military intelligence squad was gathered in the tavern of the first village they encountered on their mission. It was the first of the settlements dotting the lower banks of the Colorado River, on its left bank—an area where the water ran slow and silty, ideal for river trade. The tavern, called "The Silver Salmon," was a building of wooden beams eaten away by humidity. The smell of dried fish, sweat, and cheap beer flooded the air.
—Here you go, gentlemen, on the house —said Miguel, as he sat down with five more bowls of beer, one for each of them.
—I still can't believe how the commander agreed to this request, my lord —said Andrés, the squad leader, lowering his voice to a barely audible whisper—. It is a very large exposure for someone like you.
—Don't worry, boys, I cut my hair and changed my clothes. No one would recognize me —said Miguel, taking a good sip of his beer—. It's not the best brew, but after two weeks of nothing but boiled water and military rations, I'm not complaining.
—Cheers! —said Julio, who finished his beer in one go, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Ronald and Sam didn't speak, but only out of absolute concentration on their drinks.
—Well, any relevant information? —asked Miguel, regaining his professional tone—. I spoke with the shopkeeper, and the kind gentleman worriedly asked if I hadn't run into an unpleasant situation with the Marquis's recruits. According to him, they are marching toward the border town, charging some kind of toll to anyone they see.
—I have the same information —said Sam, wiping the foam from his upper lip—. But I got it from the innkeeper when we checked in for the night.
—I was looking at the town's defensive formation and the placement of the guards —Andrés interjected—. This town, and presumably the others under Baron Heinrich's command, has a rather simple guard layout. The palisade is low. It doesn't represent a real obstacle for our troops. And the guards patrol alone, or at most in pairs.
—I spoke with a guard while I was asking where we could request permission to sell our cargo —said Ronald—. I could see clearly that he was only wearing a rusty chainmail shirt and little else. Some more protection for the upper and lower limbs, but no plate armor or even brigandine. They are poorly equipped, sir.
—And finally… —Miguel said, looking at Julio.
—I was performing human intelligence work. I very persuasively asked the girl serving drinks if she could give me some advice on who we could sell our fruit cargo to, and she very kindly answered me in a long session of private questions… in the rooms upstairs —Julio said with a satisfied smile.
—Seriously? That's what you did all day —Sam asked incredulously.
—Yes, and I have excellent information —Julio continued, regaining his seriousness—. The town headman, although his house doesn't look like much from the outside so as not to attract the Marquis's tax collectors, has quite a bit of money stashed under the floorboards. He comes at least once a week with his friends to celebrate in the town tavern. He reserves the whole place. You have to rob him, no matter what.
—Fine, I'll give you that one —said Miguel, half-amused by the situation—. Although only barely. Robbing the town headman is a tactical cliché. But, given the low profile the man maintains, it only further justifies the attack.
—Okay, any questions? —Miguel asked.
—Yes, my lord —Andrés said, and his tone shifted to something more somber—. Is there truly a need to burn the houses of these commoners? They are not to blame for anything the Marquis has done. They are just farmers and fishermen.
The rest of the squad said nothing, but the tension at the table rose. It was the question they all had on the tip of their tongues.
—Yes. It is necessary. For several reasons —said Miguel, setting aside his beer and turning serious—. First, if we don't burn anything and just kick them out, then we don't affect the capacity of the Marquis or the nobles under his command to start the planting. He only has to send a good contingent of men and problem solved: the commoners will return to their homes with all their tools and start farming to feed the enemy army.
—Second, we want to disrupt the logistics of navigating the Colorado River, and we can only do that by destroying the docks and support buildings. The fastest and most efficient way is to set fire to everything. And third, we need that idiot Marquis to spend his war funds feeding refugees. An army moves on its stomach, and without money to buy food, they cannot attack us.
—I understand… Sir —Andrés said, taking a large gulp of beer.
—Don't be like that, Andrés —said Miguel, softening his tone slightly—. You know perfectly well that the guidelines for the upcoming battles have already been discussed with all members of the guard. And you are the most disciplined troop I know; I don't think you're going to break the rules.
—The only valid targets to kill are the guards, and civilians who for some reason, through their actions, seriously hinder the troop's missions. Additionally, no harm can come to civilians who follow instructions. And any type of sexual abuse will be punished by death.
—Understood, sir… I won't ask again —Andrés said.
—No. Ask whatever you want, as long as the timing is right. If we are not in battle, you can always ask as long as it is with respect. Blind faith is for fanatics —said Miguel.
—Fine, and how exactly are we going to attack, sir? —asked Julio, anxious to move to the action.
—Remember when we joined the line of carts and people trying to enter the town? Well, I think I have a plan to sell our wild fruits —Miguel said with a predatory smile—. Tomorrow morning, right after the gates open, we leave with our wagon under the pretext of heading to the capital of the Marquisate. Then we open the back tailgate and let all the fruit we have fall out, and without flinching, we keep going, until just past the gate.
—We stop to gather our fruit, but by the time we do, there will already be a crowd stealing our belongings—with luck, even the guards might get involved. And if they don't, we'll involve them ourselves. We will create a human bottleneck.
—And in that chaos, our people arrive —said Ronald, understanding the brilliance of the provoked mayhem.
—Exactly —exclaimed Miguel—. So, Julio, since you have so much energy, and seeing as if you leave now you won't raise suspicions because you'll say you're going to get more merchandise, why don't you go and inform the lieutenant of the plan?
—Me? No sir, Sam rides better —said Julio, trying to find a scapegoat to avoid the trip, and perhaps talk more in private with the waitress.
—No, I insist. Inform the lieutenant to be nearby with the scouts when the commotion forms at the gate. He must act at the exact moment —said Miguel, leaving no room for discussion, and standing up from the table.
—Good luck, Julio. See you in a bit —Sam said with evident sarcasm.
—Bye-bye. I'll tell the drink girl that Julio sends his regards —said Ronald with a wink. Only Andrés said goodbye without rubbing salt in the wound.
…
—That's the plan, Lieutenant —said Julio, who just before nightfall and ensuring no one followed him, arrived at the Count's men's camp.
The camp was situated in a small depression near the woods, strategically located to avoid being seen when they set the campfire to cook dinner for the men. By the lieutenant's rule, they could only speak in whispers. No man could remove his armor, and the steel had to be wrapped in cloth to avoid the glint of the moon.
—Good, it's a plan that makes a lot of sense. We'll take advantage of the fact that Green Village is the largest port of the towns on the lower bank under this Baron's command —said the lieutenant, reviewing a sketch on the ground—. Fortunately, this town is not the Baron's residence; otherwise, it would be much more crowded with troops.
—It has something to do with the fact that it's not the Baron's ancestral land, my lord.
—Hmm, interesting, Julio. Spy work suits you.
—It's called human source intelligence, commander. It seems I'm quite good at it.
—And I see that's why they reward you with the task of informing me at these hours.
—Well… Yes, yes, commander. That is the reason I am here —Julio replied.
—Excellent. Then make yourself comfortable. We move out in six hours —said the lieutenant, and he flipped the hourglass that was on the improvised table he had built from forest logs.
…
—Gentlemen, we depart for the first objective. Remember the rules of engagement; I don't want anyone punished or judged by a military tribunal. Our mission is chaos, not unnecessary butchery. The fire will do the work of evacuation; we only need to secure the perimeter and neutralize the armed response.
—Yes, sir —everyone said in low voices, already ready on their horses with their swords close at hand.