Sorceress of the Second Sphere

14. Forgotten Foragers - Peyton

The day had been miserable, the continuous relentless rain had brought a wretched mood among the soldiers as they trekked along with Peyton through a forest some three days walk from Bleufontaine.

A large drop, that felt like the size of a strawberry, splashed its way down Peyton's back causing him to squirm unconventionally. Peyton grunted, his mood soured even further by the cold bitter feeling of rainwater sliding underneath his chainmail.

He looked up, determined to find the branch that was the culprit, only to be splashed by several more drops that barraged his face in anger.

For two weeks now they had been travelling, investigating foraging sites provided by the Chevalier Des Serres. Two of the four sites had been confirmed legitimate, and while the men under his command had eaten heartedly, the continuous rain that was seeping into the ground was making traversing on open terrain much harder.

Peyton could tell his men were tired from this assignment and would be eager to return to Bleufontaine and the comforts of their hastily made tents.

Every ounce of his body ached in frustration, yet with only a couple of miles until they reached the third foraging site, for the sake of his men, he needed to remain professional and alert for what was to come.

"Form line," he ordered, causing Harrold, Jefford's temporary replacement, to raise his hand and signal the order for the troops to stand side by side as they pushed forward.

Normally, Peyton would take pride in their efficiency, but today he didn't care. With almost another week of walking and investigating foraging sites, he just wanted this hell to be over; or the rain to stop.

A clearing started to appear, signalling the end of the forest. Green fields lay ahead leading down toward a lake, the grass creating an illusion for the muddied ground underneath it. The lake, itself, seemed to bleed into the horizon, its blue-tinted waters calm and at ease despite the rain continuously patting upon it.

Peyton stopped his men some couple hundred metres from the edge of the forest, giving him ample opportunity to examine the surroundings. A sigh of relief came over him when he saw a beam of light pushing its way over the lake. With it gradually heading toward their direction, his frustrations were soon to be quelled. The rain would cease to continue.

Another thick, cold drop forced its way onto his cheek causing him to grunt in frustration. He looked out toward the horizon, the substantial open ground between his men and the lake was of some concern. As soon as they stepped from the forest, they could be easily spotted from miles around, but yet the foraging spot must have been of some significance for the Ruvian's to have this location on their maps.

"I need twenty men to follow me down to the lake, the rest will remain here out of sight," Peyton ordered, causing Harrold to stomp up the line picking men suitable for the task.

Peyton took a step forward, the selected men almost instantly stood beside him. "Harrold, should we be engaged, return to Bleufontaine, and inform Sir Emhyr of what transpired today," he instructed, concern oozing through his voice.

"Milord," Harrold replied, his concern even more evident than that of his commanding officer, "but I can't, I am..."

"This is not a discussion, Harrold," Peyton rebuked, speaking with an authority far beyond his years.

"Aye milord," Harrold responded.

"Men, with me," Peyton ordered his arm raised as he took his first steps forward into the squelching ground.

The twenty men, commanded by Peyton moved forward as one unit, with Peyton constantly looking toward the horizon for some ambush, but as he stepped out of the cover of the tree canopy, nothing came but the easing rain. As the large relentless drops were now replaced with a cold, but manageable drizzle, Peyton's frustrations were starting to ease.