The cultists didn't have a chance.
They had been part of the group harassing our perimeter—firing potshots at the men from a concealed position. They were holed up in a narrow flood-control ditch that ran along the edge of town, now repurposed into a crude trench. The elevation drop and earthen banks gave them good cover, and they made the most of it, keeping our defenders pinned near the church.
They didn't know we had circled behind them. Their attention remained locked on the church and the soldiers dug in around it. That was their first mistake.
I had taken the ten-man escolta with me for the flanking maneuver. Ten was small enough to move swiftly and quietly, but still large enough to mount a counterattack if anything went wrong.
