Page 23 of The Broken Dawn

"The deeper mud's like quicksand," Jakob explained, demonstrating with a pole. "Step wrong and you'll sink to your knee. But it looks exactly like the firmer ground, especially if we..." He grabbed a handful of dead leaves, scattering them across a particularly deep patch.

"Camouflage," Harald said. "Not for our position, but for the terrain itself."

Erik, who had been watching with increasing interest, pointed to a slightly elevated patch near a fallen log. "We could put Magnus there with the light machine gun. Good fields of fire, and it's one of the few solid spots."

"That's what they'll expect," Harald said. He glanced at Jakob, who nodded.

"It's too obvious," Jakob agreed. "But if we make it look like we're trying to hide our preparation there..."

"While actually setting up here." Harald indicated a less obvious position. "They'll focus on what they expect to see."

Otto wrung his hands. "But sir, Lieutenant Vasa always says that elevated positions⁠—"

"Are critical to proper defensive strategy. Yes." Harald's smile was grim. "Which is exactly why Christian will look for them. He'll see what he expects to see."

Magnus finally set his manual aside. "This is going to be completely unorthodox."

"Yes," Harald said. "But I think it's going to work."

From the ridge above, they heard Christian's voice calling out crisp orders to his assault team. Harald looked at his mud-covered squad, at the carefully concealed traps they'd laid, at the false paths they'd created. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't proper. But maybe, just maybe...

"Time to get into position," he said quietly. "And remember—let them think they know exactly where we are."

Jakob caught his eye as they moved to their hiding spots. There was a glint of something like approval there, mixed with what might have been anticipation.

This was going to be interesting.

Harald crouched behind the fallen log, acutely aware of Jakob pressed against his side. Through gaps in the dead leaves they'd scattered over their position, they watched Christian's team approach in perfect formation.

"Look at that spacing," Jakob whispered, his breath warm against Harald's ear. "Exactly like the book says."

Christian stood tall at the head of his squad, every inch the perfect officer. Even from here, Harald could see his cousin's satisfied smile as he gestured his team forward. "Maintain formation," Christian called. "Watch your intervals."

The first sign of trouble came when his point man stumbled, breaking formation to catch his balance. Christian's smile tightened. "Mind your footing, Cadet. Back in line."

"Three steps to the left," Jakob murmured. "That's where the ground gets really soft."

Sure enough, the next soldier stepped exactly where Jakob had predicted. His boot sank ankle-deep and he lurched sideways, colliding with his squad-mate. The pristine formation wavered.

"Compose yourselves," Christian snapped. "This is basic tactical movement."

Harald felt Jakob's silent laugh. "He's going to go in to try to restore order..."

"Which means he'll step..." Harald couldn't help his grin as Christian moved to demonstrate proper technique.

"Exactly where we want him to," Jakob said, and Harald could hear the smile in his voice.

Christian's first step was firm. His second landed in the deepest pit they'd prepared—the one Jakob had specifically engineered to look solid. Christian's leg plunged in to the knee.

For a moment, everyone froze. Then Christian tried to pull free, his face reddening. "Don't just stand there," he barked at his team. "Assist⁠—"

The sudden jerk as his leg came free threw him off balance. His boot, however, remained stuck in the mud with a wet sucking sound that echoed across the training ground.

Harald pressed his sleeve against his mouth to stifle his laughter. Beside him, Jakob's shoulders shook with silent mirth.

Christian hopped awkwardly on one foot, his pristine uniform now splattered with mud, his stockinged foot held above the muck. "I said assist me," he snarled at his team, who were clearly trying not to stare at their commanding officer's sock.

Two cadets moved to help, only to find themselves sinking into hidden soft spots. The more they struggled, the more their perfect formation dissolved into chaos.