Welcome, friends, to the tragicomic tale of Reggio Perino, famed mercenary fallen on hard times and with an eye for vengeance and the next paychest.
If you’re new to this diary, you should begin reading here, at Episode One. Enjoy, and please remember that Reggio Perino is a trained stunt mercenary.
Reggio Perino led the weary rebels back north to their homes. The campaign had been a bloody failure, and as much as he was willing to fill up the holes with their Laurian dead, the supply of warm bodies was going to run out eventually. The wounded were recovering slowly on the march north, although the bumpiness of their carts probably wasn’t helping matters. Juan Batista was complaining about the staleness of the bread and the hardness of his saddle and the cowardice of his army, and Reggio was getting a bit sick of it.
It was therefore with annoyance that Reggio greeted the news brought by one of the remaining outriders: that Lord Francis was alive and well, for the moment, although engaged in desperate battle against a loyalist army with ten times his numbers.
It was clear that it was a lost cause. Reggio turned to his lieutenants to order the army to skirt wide around them, just in time to see that backward idiot Juan Batista spurring his horse onwards, yelling “To me, men of Lauria! To me and to glory! Tally-ho!”
Lord Theobald, Lord Pelayo, Lord Cortez… all of them charged onwards with swords lifted high, and their men, battered as they were, gave a great shout and broke into a stumbling run after them. Reggio’s mouth worked for a moment, as he considered the odds of him succeeding in this rebellion with only twenty able-bodied men after all the others in the army got slaughtered, and with a heavy sigh he led his own men into battle as well.
Lord Francis’ thirty remaining men had fallen back towards their reinforcing saviours, and Reggio arrived just in time to stop Juan Batista from leading them straight back into an uneven contest. He ordered the rebels formed up in their usual formation, but with a skirmish line of arquebusiers ahead of the pikemen this time.
The loyalist musketry took its toll on the ragged rebels, but Reggio ordered his men to wheel around to let the pike formation pass, ignoring the enemy gunners for now. As the enemy tercio marched past, he unleashed the cannon fire, and fully half of the loyalist pikemen were snatched backwards in a hail of grapeshot and iron fragments.
The surviving enemies, shocked by the concussive force of the shot, pushed on, but were whittled down by a volley of arquebus fire and then finished off in a swift and brutal melee. Reggio looked back to the pike formation, and what he saw was not encouraging.
The standard bearers and officers had been killed, and the tightly-packed formation had dissolved into a loose line. Reggio pushed his way to the front of the formation and ordered the survivors to form on him – he disliked putting himself quite so much in danger, but he had no choice. These morons in morions needed some more direction if any of them were to survive this. The rebel reserves were ordered forward, and quickly arrayed behind Reggio.
With fresh troops at his back, Reggio saw that Imelda’s loyalists had pulled back after their bloody nose, and were holding a hill a quarter-mile away, silhouetted against the sky.
The loyalists must have learned their lesson, for they made no move to attack Reggio’s forces; nonetheless, a withdrawal was out of the question. The bloody fighting earlier had evened the odds, and perhaps they were wary of these desperate rebels who pressed attacks despite their condition.
Reggio hit upon a famous plan to draw the enemy down from their position. Keeping the tercio in place, he sent the light infantry forward unsupported, in a loose mob. They would be the very definition of cannon fodder. Setting the main formation to a walk at a safe distance, they followed the poor footmen, who were under orders to feign a retreat the moment the loyalists broke rank to engage them.
The footmen did this, and Reggio was pleased to notice that only one of them was killed in the process; he hadn’t dared to hope for such a good ratio. The stupid bastard loyalists charged forward gleefully, and were met by levelled pikes and handguns. Their officers were killed, the nobles captured, and the battle drew to a close as the last loyalists turned tail and ran, or were encircled and cut down.
Things had gone better than Reggio dared hope. Their casualties had been heavy, with only 120 rebels left alive after this last battle, and the majority of them having sustained even more wounds. Lord Francis had only 3 able-bodied men under his command, and Juan Batista would be indisposed following his victory booze-up, undoubtedly. It was time to hunker down behind castle walls and lick their wounds – Reggio fancied he could find a few willing and impressionable revolutionary women to do the licking for him.
At that moment, a messenger rode up to their makeshift camp.
Oh, come on.
Butcher’s Bill: 51 men dead, 31 men captured.
Reggio Perino had his mouth set grimly. The opening moves of the battle had an appreciable advantage to the rebels, though the Lion Throne’s troops were still generally of higher quality and were still ready to put up a good fight. The Lion Throne’s generals had decided that a strong counterattack was best, and so Reggio directed his officers, who dressed the lines once again and prepared to meet the renewed onslaught. The pursuing Laurians had advanced the front lines into a lightly forested area, and formed their line on a hillside.
Several enemy nobles decided to encourage their troops by leading almost suicidally brave lone charges against the Laurian pikemen. They were quickly dragged from their horses and beaten senseless by the incredulous Laurians, but this seemed only to give the enemy infantry more heart.
Their standard bearers and officers led the slow advance, while the Laurian arquebusiers poured fire onto them. At this range, little of the fire was telling, except for Reggio’s cannon shots. The closely-packed enemy formation climbed the hill and attempted to flank the pikemen. Reggio led his light troops around to the side and unleashed deadly musketry into the sides of the Lion Throne formation, doing great execution.
As the attack faltered, the Lion Throne fell back to reform while their officers harangued them. Reggio had never seen the point of promising Heaven to soldiers; they were far more likely to enjoy hell. He gave the Filaharn-botherers a parting shot from his cannon as they retreated, leaving a bloody clump of twisted corpses for the reinforcements to step over.
The enemy attacked again, to no great effect, and Reggio was exultant. They were slaughtering them.
He was so exultant he didn’t see the armoured horsemen with the Radiant Cross emblazoned on their chests until it was too late. Reggio was barged to the ground with a great thump and was out cold immediately as a tonne of steel-plated horseflesh charged into him.
When he awoke, the sky was dark. There were still sounds of battle, though the screeching and clanging of steel on steel was more distant. Marnid assured Reggio that they were winning, and that Lord Pelayo had taken command of the army while he was indisposed.
The soldiers on both sides were exhausted from the day’s battle, but still they fought. Reggio was content to sit back and let them do so while he nursed his headache with a bottle of Imperial Brandy and a wet towel, although he judged by morning that he could no longer maintain the facade of being too injured to fight, and he joined the fray once more. Such as it was.
The Lion Throne army had disintegrated overnight, and scattered groups were being rounded up by the pursuing Laurians. One last band refused to surrender. 17 men led by Yelu Dashi of Kara-Khitan defied all demands and offers, and brandished their blunted weapons proudly. The Laurians tolerated them at first, but as the band started making their way towards Lion Throne territory, Juan Batista gave Reggio a peremptory order. Kill them all.
Reggio shrugged, and ordered the advance. If some fools wanted to die out of pride, it was no skin off his recently-broken nose.
The Laurian cavalry charged the group, to little effect, as the ragged survivors stood firm and cut down the lightly armoured cavalry. Juan Batista was outraged at this, but Reggio took it in his stride. He recalled the cavalry and ordered the arquebusiers forward.
So much for pride.
Yelu Dashi was found still breathing, draped in a flag bearing the Radiant Cross. He came around fairly soon, and seemed entirely unconcerned that he had survived while his loyal followers had not. Reggio rather admired his style, and the man would be a useful prisoner, but he had more to worry about at present.
Only 238 rebels had survived the battle, and almost half of them were wounded. In one battle, it had ceased to be a force to be reckoned with – Reggio knew that Queen Imelda’s personal army alone numbered almost as many. Certainly there was no question of pressing the siege of Etrosq Castle.
And Lord Francis was nowhere to be seen…
Butcher’s Bill: 44 men dead, 31 men captured.
Reggio Perino listened to his liege-lord’s demands with restrained patience and a beatific smile. Juan Batista was insisting that the fledgling rebellion needed to show its strength and that instead of picking off caravans and the occasional company, it should storm one of the Laurian castles to send fear into the heart of the loyalists and send a rallying cry to all those who wished to join his cause. The poor sod was not to know, of course, that most of the lords pledged to his banner were in it for their own riches and glory rather than a belief in the righteousness of his claim.
Reggio convinced the prince that attacking one of the strongly-held Laurian castles with their scant forces would be a bad idea, but he relented when Juan Batista pointed out the two castles near Lion Throne territory. They had both been captured from the fanatics, largely with Reggio’s aid, and defended against three overwhelming assaults with Reggio’s company forming the backbone of the meagre defence each time. Their garrisons were ever ragged and undermanned, and the arrogant princeling was right that they would make an easy target. And so, Reggio called the banners to war.
The rebel army set out, 425 men under arms all told. They travelled south over a day and a night until they reached the vicinity of Etrosq Castle, but the Lion Throne had thrown a spear into the spokes.
They had 416 men besieging Etrosq. Evenly matched, although their troops were of higher quality, but doable. Certainly doable. Their sentries spotted Reggio’s men making a wary circle of the siege camp, and as the Papal disciples formed up, Reggio ordered an attack. Neither army was entirely prepared for battle, but the Lion Throne’s readiness was lower, and the rebels were able to bring more men to bear.
Chucking more men at a problem generally helped to solve it, so Reggio was confident. He ordered the pikemen into formation, as was now customary, and kept strict command of the arquebusiers and gunners himself. The Lion Throne, seeing the danger, moved a large infantry formation to meet the Laurians.
The brigadiers and their auxiliaries kept formation well, circling around to attempt to flank the Laurians and hit the arquebusiers. Reggio ordered the gunners back as the pike tercio wheeled to face the enemy infantry. The arquebusiers fired and fell back in an orderly fashion, with the musketry and Reggio’s favoured hand cannon doing great execution.
Goaded by the hail of shot, the enemy abandoned their flanking attempt and charged pell-mell into the Laurian formation, pike against broadsword and spear. A terrible melee ensued.
The Laurians came out on top, although all semblance of order disappeared as the standard bearers were cut down in the press. The surviving soldiers of the Lion Throne fell back in a disciplined line, to reform around new standard bearers, and Reggio arrayed the rebel infantry in a ragged single line to receive the next charge.
Archers and gunners of the Lion Throne moved up to pepper the ragged Laurians at range, and a bloody duel ensued while the main enemy infantry reformed for a second charge. When the charge came, Reggio smiled, for they were mostly Ellisian auxiliaries, not the heavily-armoured Brigadiers. But among them came two Hands of the Pope, the heaviest and most dangerous of all Lion Throne troops.
These servants of the Lion Throne were rarely seen in field armies, and each was worth ten enemy soldiers.
Their halberds did fearful execution on the rebel pikemen, but luckily Reggio could easily spare twenty poor saps to bog them down. They were cut down by sheer weight of numbers, and the remaining Lion Throne troops routed from the field. The Laurian rebels cheered and shook their fists in defiance at the fleeing fanatics; over a hundred of them lay dead in the long grass, with perhaps thirty dead Laurians and as many wounded alongside them. They had won a costly victory.
And three-quarters of the Lion Throne troops remained, readying for the next attack.
Oh damn.
Butcher’s Bill: 42 men dead, 31 men captured.
Reggio Perino now had an army to go with his appointment to Marshal of the rebellion. He meant to use it.
He ordered Lord Pelayo’s 140 men to accompany him north to Tihr, as Reggio always felt safest when there were large numbers of expendable bullet fodder in front of him. When they arrived at Tihr, though, things got interesting.
Lord Augusto, loyal to Queen Imelda, had been staying in Tihr when the city declared itself for Juan Batista, and he and his men had been forcibly ejected by the inhabitants. Unsure of what to do, he had been foraging in the countryside around the city when Reggio and Lord Pelayo arrived on the scene. Without waiting for his lawful marshal’s command, Pelayo gave a ‘tally-ho!’ and rushed into battle. This was perfectly acceptable to Reggio, as it meant that Pelayo would bear the brunt of any fighting. However, his own troops were as green behind the ears as a cabbage. With ears. They could use the experience, or at least the sight of some blood being spilled. With a grin, Reggio ordered his men into the fight as well.
It was a dawn that promised to be bloody. Outriders and scouts had reported that the enemy numbered only 84 men against the 173 that the rebels fielded – a comfortable advantage. Although the gunsmoke obscured the battlefield, Reggio could see the enemy advancing in close formation.
Lord Augusto’s men were showing more discipline than Reggio had expected, but it was entirely the wrong approach to take when Reggio carried a hand cannon. He took careful aim at the centre of the tercio, and fired.
With the formation gutted, a general charge was ordered, with a tercio of Lord Pelayo’s pikemen moving forward and tearing the enemy formation to pieces.
Lord Pelayo was agitating to let his cavalry go, so Reggio graciously gave his permission and his lordship led the charge against the remaining loyalist arquebusiers who lined a ridge overlooking the carnage. They were easily cut down, and with that the battle was done.
Every last loyalist had been killed, save Lord Augusto, who had scrambled off the field with his skin intact, if not his honour. 11 rebels had been killed, and 25 wounded – a small price to pay for the utter annihilation of one of Queen Imelda’s companies. Nearby, Lord Francis engaged a Laurian merchant caravan, adding its spoils to the rebellion’s warchests. The caravan master led a heroic charge against Francis’ troops, but he and his men were cut down mercilessly.
With Francis and Pelayo in tow, Reggio moved south. He was intercepted by 110 men under the command of Lord Cortez.
He was quickly convinced to join Juan Batista’s cause, possibly because he shared Lord Theobald’s philosophy on headgear, and added significantly more strength to the rebellion. It was soon put to use, as another loyalist noble, Lord Luois – lacking in spelling ability as well as good sense, it would seem – gave battle in the hills east of Curin Castle.
Unlike the unlucky Augusto, Luois did not form his men up in close formation, perhaps fearing the effect cannon shots would have on them. This did not save his men, however. The rebels were disciplined and determined (expect for the levied footmen, too thick to stand shoulder to shoulder with the pikemen), and they carved up the loyalists.
Casualties for the rebels were moderate, but one thing made it entirely worthwhile.
Reggio always did like having an extra prisoner-ace up his stylishly ripped sleeves.
Butcher’s Bill: 32 men dead, 31 men captured.
Reggio Perino’s first order of business was to maintain the illusion of being a successful mercenary and not down on his luck in the slightest. Entreating Juan Batista to patience and making warlike noises, Reggio dashed back to the tavern, where he espied a very dapper mercenary, almost after his own heart.
Just one look at that majestic plumage told Reggio all he needed to know. The halberdier and seven of his friends were hired, using almost the last of Reggio’s personal hoard of denars. They were quickly presented to Juan Batista as an honour guard, and Reggio assured his soon-to-be-highness that the company was following some distance behind so that their rank yet bellicose odour would not offend his excellency’s nostrils.
The party of 13 (lucky for some, Reggio hoped) trudged north into Laurian territory and the heart of the rebellion: Fearichen.
Reggio gave the people a rousing speech about past injustices, and promised revenge on those who oppressed the villagers and taken their scant money and possessions to finance their pointless wars. The idiot peasantry swallowed it whole, and provided the rebellion with its first volunteers: seven Laurian arquebusiers. Well, it was a start. But peasant levies wouldn’t win the war. For that, Reggio needed noble allies, preferably ones who were easily swayed by the promise of riches.
Tehlrog Castle was the first port of call, just south-west of the capital Nibelheim. It belonged to Lord Fruela, and things were not looking good from the off. It turned out that Reggio had never even met Lord Fruela, and the crotchety old goat refused to countenance any sort of rebellion against his natural liege.
With his stubble set in a manly frown, Fruela sent Reggio packing. He paid him back by visiting Fruela’s holdings nearby and recruiting volunteers to Juan Batista’s cause, and – undeterred – continued westward. At Hrus Castle, he met Lord Cordoba, who he was passing familiar with and had saved in battle once or twice.
The ginger conquistador idiot was entirely ungrateful, however, and denounced Reggio as an inconstant traitor. Reggio had to agree – he was a mercenary, after all – and appealed unsuccessfully to Cordoba’s baser nature. Promises of wealth to come did not sway Cordoba, who loudly proclaimed that he preferred the bastard he knew to the bastard he didn’t. Reggio personally thought this was a bit off, considering Juan Batista was standing in front of him at the time. It was looking like Reggio’s best bet may even be to ask for help from Queen Imelda herself, as she still seemed to hold a soft spot for him despite his betrayal. The abandoning bitch.
The putative rebellion continued westwards, into the borderlands of the Laurian kingdom. At Curin Castle, things finally started to go right.
Reggio requested a meeting with the two lords currently at the castle, Theobald and Francis.
Although Theobald’s strange helmet disconcerted Reggio at first…
Both were good sorts, men after his own heart. They both professed to having heard the arguments he’d used previously and been convinced by them, as they were very much in favour of profiting from this civil war. Declaring that they would both be able to commission life-size golden statues of themselves once they’d melted down Imelda’s throne for scrap, Reggio easily convinced both men to join the cause. Containing his jubilance that chaos and vengeance were finally taking shape, he ordered Theobald and his curious headgear to join him while Francis and his men would garrison Curin Castle. With his new troops in tow, Reggio set out to the north, towards the city of Tihr, where he was unpleasantly surprised.
Lord Pelayo, seneschal of the city of Tihr, with 150 men at his back. Having flashbacks to the battle prior to his capture, Reggio rode forward to greet Pelayo.
His lordship was animated and apparently eager to grind Reggio’s band into the dirt, but Reggio knew Pelayo of old, and knew of his avarice. His lordship proved astonishingly susceptible to promises of bribery, and agreed to join the rebellion, bringing Tihr and its sizeable garrison into the fold as well.
Reggio Perino surveyed the lands that now formed the core of the rebellion and smiled. From little acorns great serpents could grow.
Or something.
Reggio Perino cursed his rotten luck. Half his company were being picked apart by the crows, and the other half were no doubt halfway to the prisoner camps outside Ellis by now. As for him and his lieutenants, it seemed that Balbars the Hammer had some other plan for them. As far as Reggio could tell, in between concussions and burlap sacks on his head, they were circling around Grunwalder Castle, not far from where the battle had been fought. The Lion Throne’s disciples proved less steadfast and watchful than he expected, however…
Jeremus, once a priest before he took a fancy for mercenary work, provided a distraction while Reggio and his three other lieutenants escaped. When the hue and cry was raised, Jeremus himself slipped out…
Reggio had been right in his assessment. They were south of Grunwalder Castle, close to neutral Swadian territory. The Empire was occupied with its war against the Vaegirs and Ormeli to its east and south, and had provided succour and shelter for the Banditti in the past. Right now, though, all Reggio wanted was a drink. He set out for Vienna, capital of the Holy Swadian Empire, and reached the city at midnight.
It may have been midnight on a Tuesday, but even the über-devout Swadians know how to have a good time. Reggio made straight for a little tavern he was fond of for its low ceilings, prices, and morals. But a man can’t even have a quiet drinking-into-oblivion these days.
A group of bandits ambushed Reggio just outside the tavern, and he was forced to cut them down with his trusty sabre (thankfully he had liberated most of his equipment when he escaped). Blood-letting on an empty stomach and alcohol-free veins didn’t do anything for his bad mood, and when he saw the wall-faced barmaid who had replaced that lusty little piece who was here last time, he sank even further into despair.
Dismayed, Reggio ordered a firkin of ale, a leg of beef, and a cabbage, and sat down to his repast and sorrow-drowning. He had little money, few prospects, and a great desire for revenge. But then his luck changed.
He got talking to a ragged yet knowledgeable stranger, who was full of amusing anecdotes of his visits to taverns and brothels all over Calradia. It was a passing remark that cheered Reggio the most, however: the traveller mentioned that Juan Batista Loeher, pretender to the Laurian throne, was staying at the castle in Vienna.
Stinking of booze and looking slightly down-at-heel, Reggio made a fine display at the castle gates, telling the guards that he was Reggio Perino, famed soldier of fortune, and he was here for dinner. They admitted him, not a little warily, and there he was.
Juan Batista Loeher, in the flesh. And clearly a bit of a goth. God’s sake, man, hadn’t he heard of torches? Clearly ready to expound on his misfortunes at a moment’s notice with the most complete stranger, Juan launched into a diatribe the moment Reggio had introduced himself.
He explained that Queen Imelda, his sister, did not deserve the Laurian throne at all, and that he was the one who should be on it, by right of masculinity.
Reggio nodded fiercely and agreed like a fine toady. The idea of that abandoning bitch Imelda ending up with a slit throat was most agreeable. Putting on his finest brown-nosing act, he made his speech.
“I, Reggio Perino, famed soldier of fortune, victor of a hundred battles, will help you gain your rightful throne, Juan Batista Loeher! Got any more of this wine? It’s rather good.”
Juan was overjoyed, Reggio could tell: his face was twitching in what may have been an inward smile. Sombrely and earnestly, the pretender offered his signet ring to be kissed.
Courage and devotion, that’s right. Just what he’d told Queen Imelda.
Reggio agreed readily.
“Now! Where is this fine company of yours?” said Juan. “I wish to meet the men that will give me my throne.”
Ah.
Meet Reggio Perino, famous Laurian mercenary.
Reggio Perino, mercenary extraordinaire
Veteran of a hundred battles, expender of a thousand bullets, nemesis of all Queen Imelda’s enemies. Starting with nothing more than the shirt on his back, his father’s perfectly-balanced sword, and breath stinking of smoked fish, he decided to make his fortune. When he left his home in Lauria across the sea, his father had handed him the sword (which had been his father’s, and his father’s before him), and spoke words of sage advice:
“Be true and honourable, Reggio, for if a man cannot sleep at night then he is nothing. Fight for the side of good, for honour is its own reward. And always remember where you came from, when you raise this sword. Think of me.”
Reggio remembered these words the day he sold his father’s sword to a craftsman in Nibelheim, smiling as he clipped his new masterwork sabre to his belt and slid a heavy purse of Calradian denars across to the smith. War had been good to Reggio Perino, and he had made sure it was good by putting his native cunning first and foremost. The first time he’d used his father’s sword on a fellow human being, it was to kill a merchant to safeguard the Lord of Tihr’s reputation. He had blooded his mercenary recruits putting down peasant revolts while collecting taxes. He had sat back and grinned as his men stormed castle walls for 40 denars a day, without Reggio having to lift a finger. Queen Imelda of Lauria had praised him and his men, and had even deigned to offer Reggio lands of his own.
The bustling centre of Fearichen, the village that always sleeps.
The village of Fearichen was poor, but a steady source of new recruits for Reggio’s Banditti after that time that Reggio had driven had some bandits out of the village and secured their devotion (despite taking their every worldly possession as payment for this service). The poor bastards couldn’t wait to die for Reggio’s dubious cause, although dying wasn’t often on the agenda. No matter who came up against his Banditti, they were shot down.
Sea raiders…
I know you can fire three rounds a minute. But can ye stand?
Disciples of the Lion Throne…
Where is your god now?
Even the heavily-armoured Ellisian legions fell before the guns of his Banditti.
Close formation proves ineffective against firearms. A valuable discovery!
In every battle, he was victorious.
That's right, boys, cheer.
His reputation was immense, but Reggio knew not to bite off more than he could chew. He made sure to stay close to the larger Laurian armies, and was not averse to running away when it was prudent. But then things went south.
The mission sounded simple enough – scout the area around Grunwalder Castle, on the border of the territory of those fundamentalist nutjobs, the Lion Throne. Reggio knew that he had to get close in order to scout, and he definitely couldn’t count on the support of the main Laurian army, who were buggering about some miles to the north-west, around Etrosq Castle (which Reggio’s men had been instrumental in taking and defending against massively superior Lion Throne armies, much thanks he’d got).
Things did not go according to plan.
Oh dear.
Two Lion Throne brigades had surrounded his men, and they were faster than his foot-bound mercenaries. He had no choice but to fight it out.
Men of Fearichen, stop your dreaming! Can't you see their spearpoints gleaming?
His men had faced worse odds before, though admittedly with the safety of castle ramparts to hide behind. Reggio Perino unshouldered the Ormeli hand cannon he had taken from those janissary bastards to the south, and opened fire.
Boom! Groundshot.
His pistoleers and arquebusiers followed suit, as did his four lieutenants. The volley was shattering, but the Lion Throne kept coming, their cavalry and skirmishers acting as a screen for the heavy infantry formation behind.
They're coming out of the goddamn fog!
When the two forces clashed, Reggio kept his men wheeling backwards from the phalanx of Brigadiers and Propugnators, while his men fired pistols on the move and cut down the cavalry who attempted to break up the formation.
The chaos of battle.
Reggio kept firing, taking out clumps of men with the hand cannon at fairly close range, but his men were being chipped away and the Lion Throne’s reinforcements kept coming. As he was overwhelmed in hand-to-hand combat, the last thing Reggio Perino saw was his lieutenant Marnid swinging away with his halberd, going down fighting.
Cutting four men down with one swing. Not bad for a merchant.
But it was not enough.
God dammit.
Butcher’s Bill: 22 men dead, 31 men captured.