Vincent tossed back the white pill while his men divided the Druidesses, who could have fought back at any time. The new pill settled in his stomach heavily. While he felt the pill work its crazy magic, he had an epiphany he needed to better regiment his men.

Men joined, swelling their numbers, while Hector ran ragged to direct men with no soldier experience. Some of the people joining never stepped outside their city. 4 druidesses bathed in his tent. At the same time, he reviewed the names and ages of people looking to join his hunting party. He would have to go hunting at night if he had any hope of feeding the massive force.

His funds stood at over 25,000 after he paid off his loan. That was the money he had to take care of his little army. 25,000 sounded like a lot, but the second he dipped into it for food, he would be in danger of running a deficit.

A guard poked their head through. “Sir Hector is here to see you.” Vincent waved the man in.  

“The camp is a mess. We’re running out of food, and there aren’t enough horses to go around; even if we broke everyone, our party wouldn’t number more than a hundred. Then there are the newcomers. If I have to listen to another newcomer complain about not getting a druidess I’m going to start challenging recruits to honor duels.” Hector said.

“Hector we aren’t monsters, take them into the hitching post in the camp center and beat their ass,” Vincent said.

He thought about it and made a few rules to make keeping the peace easier. Then, Vincent purchased some paper and wrote them in the strange language of the elves. It was hard to get his point across. The language he spoke to the elves hurt his throat, and writing it made his head spin.

Elf society was too soft for beheadings for stealing a bowstring, but he could use ass beatings until his men hardened. Dividing the elf druidesses helped.

“Did you want to make this a permanent unit? That is illegal; the chief commander of the state of bronze mountain won’t stand for it.” Hector said calmly.

“We are now a permanent unit, and what will he do? You don’t seem to understand how big an advantage riding a horse can be. And you have me.” Vincent said.

Vincent planned to buy his first 100 soldiers' steel equipment. Vincent liked their odds even if the city launched an army of 10,000 infantry. Once, he turned the men into mounted archers. Even light-armored calvary could be devastating against pseudo-hoplites. Instead of long spears, the elves preferred short spears and swords.

Something weird brushed against his senses, and he froze. Again, it fluttered into camp, bumping against his presence and moving through tents at inhuman speeds.

“Dancing Leaves lead ten spearmen to row 6, tent 8; there is something there.”

“Do you think it had something to do with the sickness?” Vincent slowly nodded. “What will you do if the men think a plague is going around and abandon the camp?”  

One of his men died, and all hell broke loose. Screams echoed through the camp, and people were panicking. If he let it go on, they would leave camp and scatter. Then whatever was in the camper would pick them off one by one in the dark.

“Yes, have the men pair off in front of their tents for an inspection. I’m going to investigate the situation.”

The druidesses in the tub looked at one another. “Stay; you would only slow me down.”

Their magic was elf-only, limited to roots fed their blood, and best used during the day. He had thought they could be useful as builders in his little army. But no elf soldiers were better builders, and their natural magic made trees grow faster anyway. Some elves could control their growth field and concentrate it in an area hastening the growth of plants. Research in elven magic was strictly regulated by the nobility. Commoners caught studying deeper into their innate magic could face a steep fine and prison time. Surprisingly there was a good reason behind it. There was a treaty with the goblins forbidding them from practicing studying their magic. Even druidesses would never develop beyond what they discovered themselves. Rumors had it some elves did study, but they were well hidden.

Vincent left his tent and ran down the grid of tents, glad the Roman system was efficient. The mob failed to get lost as he ran for the dying men.

In the moon's pale light, a tall elf with bloodshot eyes and bloody fangs fought 6 elves who refused to retreat.

Challenge 8 Time Limit 10 min

Complete: Slay a lesser vampire.

Reward: 2 C Red Pills

Complete: Save your remaining men.

Reward: 2 C Blue Pills

Complete: Restore discipline to your camp.

Reward: 2 C Green Pills

Complete: Locate hidden enemies.

Reward: 1 C Black Pill

Vincent turned on his go pro and went live.

For more chapters check out my patreon or subscribestar