The Northern Watch, a grim, isolated bastion jutting from Karshelm's outermost wall, became Lieutenant Kaelen's new domain. It was a crucial vantage point, overlooking the desolate northern wastes—a barren expanse often shrouded in eerie mist, the favored approach of the Necromancer legions. For most, it was a lonely, often terrifying assignment. For Kaelen, it was a perfectly positioned sandbox.
His new command meant more than just a grander title. It meant direct authority over a company of soldiers, control over a vital section of the fortress, and the opportunity to subtly shape his environment. The initial awe surrounding his defeat of the Wargolem still lingered, granting him a quiet deference among the men. They saw his calm demeanor, his sharp orders, and his uncanny ability to foresee enemy movements, and they saw competence—a quality desperately valued in this endless war.
Kaelen moved into the Watch Commander's quarters, spartan but functional, and immediately began to implement his strategic vision. He assigned Replicated Private Finn to his personal guard detail, ensuring the duplicate was always within earshot, a silent conduit for Kaelen's thoughts and commands. Replicated Finn, with his unblinking loyalty, became an invaluable tool for discreetly gathering information, observing the new soldiers under Kaelen's command, and ensuring Kaelen's subtle directives were carried out without question. He was the ideal shadow, extending Kaelen's reach into the daily workings of the Northern Watch.
Replicated Sergeant Rhys was given command of the largest and most active patrol squad, leading sorties into the misty wastes and training the raw recruits. He moved with the same gruff efficiency and battle-hardened wisdom as the original Rhys, but every one of his decisions, every word of instruction, subconsciously reinforced Kaelen's methods and authority. The original Sergeant Rhys, fully recovered and back with his company in the Inner Keep, occasionally visited the Northern Watch, shaking his head at the uncanny resemblance and his duplicate's relentless efficiency. "That Kaelen," he'd grumble good-naturedly to Kaelen, "finds talent in the strangest places, and he works 'em hard!"
Meanwhile, Replicated Master Alric, still posing as Kaelen's eager if eccentric student, quietly set up a small, temporary laboratory within the Northern Watch's supply room. Under Kaelen's guidance, and with the "original" Alric's instructions echoing in his memory, Replicated Alric began to analyze samples of Necromancer magic gathered from the Wargolem's remnants. He experimented with minor, controlled arcane dampeners and even began to propose modifications to the ballista bolts, suggesting they be tipped with alchemical compounds designed to disrupt dark energies. Kaelen saw the immense potential here – not just for defense, but for offense, and for understanding the very fabric of magic in this world. The knowledge Kaelen now possessed, through his replicated alchemist, was a power that few in Karshelm, even the highest commanders, could fathom.
Kaelen himself spent hours observing the wastes from the watchtower's highest point, his mind mapping out patrol routes, identifying potential ambush points, and devising counter-strategies. He initiated new training drills, focusing on rapid response and coordinated unit movements, drills that subtly aligned his men with the efficiency of his replicated core. He listened to the soldiers' grievances, offered advice, and shared their meager rations, building a genuine rapport that belied his true, calculating nature. He was charismatic, fair, and above all, effective. His men, tired of endless, losing battles, responded to his competence with fervent loyalty.
Captain Theron, from the main keep, received daily reports of the Northern Watch's improved efficiency. His initial wariness of Kaelen was slowly eroding, replaced by an increasing reliance. He saw the Northern Watch, once a vulnerable point, becoming a formidable bulwark under Kaelen's command.
One crisp morning, a rider arrived at the Northern Watch, bringing urgent news. A small, independent scouting party, sent out from the main keep days ago, had gone silent in the Whispering Woods, not far from the old Orc supply depot. This party included Captain Valerius's son, Lieutenant Thomas Valerius, a promising young officer with connections to some of the fortress's most influential noble families. The disappearance was causing significant political tension within the fortress, as Commander Valerius was a powerful figure.
"Lieutenant Kaelen," the messenger relayed, breathless. "Captain Theron requires you to lead a rescue and recovery mission. Find Lieutenant Valerius and his team. Bring them back, or at least retrieve intelligence on their fate."
This was it. Kaelen's mind immediately seized on the opportunity. A rescue mission, particularly one involving a high-ranking officer's son, was high-profile. Success would further solidify his standing with Captain Theron and gain the favor of Commander Valerius. More importantly, if Lieutenant Thomas Valerius was indeed the lone survivor or could be retrieved, he represented a perfect candidate for his next replication. A young officer with noble connections, someone who could provide insight into the fortress's internal politics and power structures.
Kaelen assembled his team. He chose his two original veterans, Joric and Elara, for their combat prowess and scouting skills. And, of course, he brought his most trusted assets: Replicated Private Finn and Replicated Sergeant Rhys. He left Replicated Master Alric at the Northern Watch, continuing his crucial research on arcane dampeners.
"We move fast," Kaelen briefed them, his voice calm but resolute. "Lieutenant Valerius's last reported position was deep within the Whispering Woods, near the old supply route to the Orc depot. Necromancer activity has been noted in that sector."
The Whispering Woods lived up to its name, the dense canopy muffling sounds, making every rustle of leaves sound like an approaching enemy. The mist, ever present, swirled around their feet, reducing visibility to mere yards. Kaelen led the way, his instincts guiding them, augmented by Replicated Finn's acute senses, which seemed to cut through the oppressive fog. Replicated Rhys moved expertly, his sword at the ready, providing rear guard and flanking support.
They found the remnants of the scouting party's camp just before dusk—a gruesome scene. Tents were torn, supplies scattered, and two bodies, unmistakably human, lay sprawled, their faces contorted in silent screams. No immediate signs of Orcs or Necromancers, but something was off. The air hummed with a faint, chilling energy, the lingering presence of dark magic.
"They didn't stand a chance," Joric muttered, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Look," Elara whispered, pointing to drag marks in the soft earth, leading deeper into the woods. "Someone was taken."
Kaelen knelt, examining the tracks. "Not Orcs. Too neat. And the magical signature… Necromancers. They took prisoners." He felt a flicker of triumph. Lieutenant Thomas Valerius might still be alive.
They followed the drag marks for another hour, the light fading rapidly. The woods grew denser, the mists thicker, until they reached a small, forgotten clearing. In the center, tied to a gnarled tree, was Lieutenant Thomas Valerius, unconscious but alive. His uniform was torn, and he was bruised, but he appeared unharmed otherwise. Standing over him were two shadowy figures, cloaked in black, their hands crackling with faint, dark energy—Necromancers. They were performing some sort of ritual, a chilling chant echoing softly through the clearing.
"They're attempting to corrupt him," Replicated Master Alric's voice, a mental whisper through Kaelen's connection, echoed in his mind. "To turn him into a thrall. It's a slow process, but potent."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. He wouldn't allow that. He needed a pristine template.
"Take them down, swiftly and silently!" Kaelen hissed.
Joric's bow string twanged, and an arrow found one Necromancer's throat. Elara, with surprising speed, closed the distance on the second, her dagger flashing, silencing him before he could complete his spell. Replicated Rhys and Replicated Finn moved to secure the perimeter, ensuring no other enemies were lurking.
Kaelen rushed to Thomas Valerius, quickly cutting his bonds. The young lieutenant groaned, slowly regaining consciousness. He blinked, his eyes unfocused, then widened as he saw Kaelen's face. "Who… Kaelen? How…?"
"No time for questions, Lieutenant," Kaelen said, helping him to his feet. "We need to move. More will be coming."
As they made their way back through the treacherous woods, Kaelen kept a close eye on Thomas. He was shaken, but his spirit was intact. His mind, crucial for a potential replication, seemed untouched by the Necromancer's dark ritual. This was the target. The perfect template.
They returned to Karshelm Fortress just before dawn, exhausted but successful. The news of Lieutenant Thomas Valerius's rescue spread like wildfire through the fortress. Commander Valerius, a man usually stoic and reserved, embraced his son with a rare display of emotion, then clapped Kaelen on the back, a gesture of profound gratitude.
"Lieutenant Kaelen," Commander Valerius boomed, his voice thick with relief. "You have my deepest thanks. You saved my son. I will ensure your exceptional service is noted by the High Command."
Kaelen accepted the praise with a humble nod, his internal satisfaction immense. He had delivered. He had proven himself once more, gained the trust of a powerful figure, and earned the admiration of the common soldiers. And he still had that last duplication token.
Later that day, Kaelen found a quiet moment with Lieutenant Thomas Valerius, ensuring their conversation was private. Thomas was recovering, his spirit re-ignited, filled with gratitude towards Kaelen.
"Kaelen, I owe you my life," Thomas said, his voice sincere. "Anything I can do to repay you, just ask."
Kaelen simply smiled. "Lieutenant, your recovery is payment enough. But perhaps… a shared understanding of Karshelm's internal workings would be valuable. The politics, the supply lines, the relationships between the noble houses… information that doesn't always reach the front lines."
Thomas, eager to help, nodded. "Of course, Lieutenant. I can share everything I know. My father has always been open with me about the fortress's inner workings."
This was it. The perfect opportunity. Thomas was a living map of Karshelm's internal power structure, a key to its intricate political landscape. His replication would not just add another loyal soldier, but a loyal informant and potential influencer from within the very heart of the fortress's elite.
Kaelen felt the last duplication token vibrate with purpose. He knew exactly what his next strategic move was. The Northern Watch was secured, his core Legion formed, and now, he was ready to begin his silent ascent to true power within Karshelm Fortress. The true game, the game of influence and control, was just about to begin.