The winter thaw arrived, turning the low mountain paths into treacherous rivers of mud and slush. This was Aris's window. The soft ground would slow the Northwatch supply wagons, and the erratic weather would reduce aerial surveillance.
Their target was a small, routine Northwatch iron ore convoy moving from the foothills to the main southern military depot. Lenn had identified it as low-priority, meaning it would have minimal escort—a perfect test run.
The Iron Fang left the Fortress of Discipline, leaving behind a perfectly maintained, camouflaged base. They took The Sledge—now equipped with heavy wolf-pelt sound dampeners on the wheels—and their two mules, the only evidence of their presence being the faint, almost invisible tracks that Mira, the expert scout, worked tirelessly to hide.
The mood was tense, but focused. They were operating on a strict, three-day mission clock.
The Stalk
Aris chose a narrow, muddy defile deep in the hills for the ambush—a place where the convoy would be forced to slow down and where the sounds of the struggle would be muffled by the surrounding cliffs.
Mira, wrapped in a mottled wolf-pelt cloak, scouted ahead for two hours, moving like a phantom through the scrub. She confirmed the target: three heavy, iron-laden wagons and an escort of eight men, including one officer, all marching through the muck.
"They are complacent," Mira whispered upon her return, reporting to Aris in precise, hushed detail. "The officer is riding near the rear wagon. They are lagging in their march pace by thirty minutes."
"Perfect," Aris confirmed. "Complacency is our weapon."
The Raid
The plan was a symphony of coordinated, brutal efficiency:
Phase One (The Check): Doran, carrying the heavy pike shaft, would position himself high on the cliff face overlooking the defile. His job was to cause a chaotic, non-lethal blockade.
Phase Two (The Seizure): Tova, driving The Sledge, would be hidden at the exit of the defile, ready to move in instantly.
Phase Three (The Silence): Aris and Lenn would attack the escort, focusing on maximum speed and minimal sound. Lenn's role was non-combat; he was to monitor the communication officer for codes.
As the first wagon lumbered into the kill zone, Doran executed his task flawlessly. He leveraged a heavy, disguised boulder, sending it rolling down the slick cliffside. It didn't strike the convoy, but it hit the ground just ahead of the lead mule team with a deafening crash and spray of mud.
The driver panicked, the lead mule team reared, and the entire convoy locked up in the narrow pass.
"Ambush!" the Northwatch officer screamed, drawing his sword.
In the ensuing confusion, Aris and Lenn struck.
Aris was terrifyingly fast. He moved straight for the officer and the communication guard.
The officer, heavy with armor and slowed by the mud, was no match for the small, agile boy armed with the Westvale sword. Aris sidestepped the clumsy swing of the longsword and drove his short blade into the officer's exposed throat—a single, clean, surgical kill.
Lenn, meanwhile, had tackled the communication guard. He didn't fight; he simply clamped his hand over the man's mouth, wrestling him into the mud.
"The code! The emergency code!" Lenn hissed into the man's ear.
The guard fought wildly, but Lenn, driven by the knowledge that failure meant death for them all, held firm. He finally located the small, coded whistle the guard used for emergency signals, ripping it free.
The Cleanup
The remaining six soldiers, demoralized and disorganized, were overwhelmed by the sudden, focused violence. Doran dropped from the cliff face, using his massive pike as a pole to smash and sweep aside the stunned troops, never allowing them to regroup. Tova, armed with a scavenged axe, was surprisingly ruthless, prioritizing the disabling of the mules over fighting the soldiers.
The battle lasted exactly four minutes.
The result was a brutal, contained victory: three dead soldiers, four wounded and quickly disarmed, and two severely disabled mules. Crucially, the Iron Fang had taken no casualties.
Tova drove The Sledge in instantly, and the group set about their purpose with cold, practiced efficiency.
* Mira tended the wounds of the Northwatch soldiers just enough to keep them alive for questioning, binding them tightly in rope.
* Doran and Tova worked the wagons, rapidly transferring high-grade iron ore and several crates of packaged rations and ammunition into The Sledge.
* Lenn, referencing the communication whistle, rapidly checked the Northwatch officer's body for maps and sealed orders, securing a fresh, high-quality field compass.
"We take only what we need," Aris commanded, looking at the wounded soldiers. "And we leave no trail."
He turned to the highest-ranking captured soldier, a grizzled sergeant with a bleeding arm, now trussed with rope.
"We are independent," Aris stated, his face devoid of emotion. "You saw what happened here. Tell your command that the mountains are closed. And the beasts are hungry."
Aris ordered Doran to smash the wheels of the remaining wagons and leave the iron ore scattered. This would suggest a disorganized bandit raid or an attack by the large, territorial beasts of the North, delaying any coordinated search.
As they hitched their mules to the overloaded Sledge, Aris placed the dead Northwatch officer's sword—a symbol of the kingdom's authority—across the chest of the wounded sergeant.
"The war has no friends here," Aris said, and with that, the Iron Fang vanished back into the winding, muddy paths, heavier with supplies, richer in intelligence, and hardened by their first successful kill.
The scar they left on the supply line was small, but it was a deliberate mark of their existence.