Plinius observed the map full of flags and figurines of soldiers, carts, horses, and other units. He risked a glance at the [General], who gifted him a smile brimming with quiet encouragement. However, the atmosphere on the opposite side of the table was quite the opposite. A scoff, as sour as a bite into a lemon, filled the room.
“We have been discussing this thoroughly, [Sergeant],” came the annoyed voice. “The concept is hard, I understand. But if you want to direct more than a few [Corporals], you need to understand the intricacies of planning long-term campaigns. Battles are won weeks and months in advance through meticulous preparation.”
“Tizius, go easy on the lad,” an audible sigh escaped the [General]’s mouth, filled with fatigue and exasperation. “He grew up poor and didn’t have the same preparation that was offered to some of the other [Sergeants].”
While it sounded reassuring to have the [General] come to Plinius’s defense, the latter felt a deep insecurity bubble up in his chest. Those words cut deep to the root of the problem: Plinius wasn’t well educated. He might have tried his best to read about all the geography, politics, and history he could find, but it was hard to measure up with officers who had been doing that since they were little kids still attached to their mom’s tits.
“[General],” Tizius replied curtly, “I agreed to these private lessons with the understanding that it was up to me how to conduct them.”
Tizius was the main [Strategist] of [General] Aurelianus and one of the most mysterious figures in his entourage. No one knew much about the man other than that he had seemingly followed Aurelianus since his earliest days in the military and that the [General] trusted him more than anyone else.
Plinius had been excited to have the chance to learn from the man, but he had soon started regretting his initial commitment.
“Sir, I still don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,” Plinius said, ashamed.
He had arranged the troops on the map following all he had learned from the tomes he had been studying relentlessly, day and night. He knew that to become a [Captain], he had to receive a formal review from more than just [General] Aurelianus. The strict bureaucracy of Lucerna made it so that only the best of the best could make it into the higher ranks of the military.
“Plinius,” [General] Aurelianus smiled warmly, giving the man a sharp pat on his back, “Tizius is a strict teacher. And Tizius,” the [General turned to the man,” I came here to check on both of you. I don’t want you to bully this [Sergeant] of mine. He’ll soon be ready for one of our most important missions. I need him to be prepared.”
Tizius sighed and nodded. The man had long black hair that was tied up in a ponytail and slim, almost feminine fingers that now moved across the map on the table.
“What if the enemy had planted an ambush there? How many troops would make it back to the supply convoy before all your food, water, and tools were either poisoned or damaged beyond repair?”
“Huh?” Plinius scratched his head. “But isn’t this the standard formation? How would the enemy—“
“Not how,” Tizius hissed, “what if. You can always find a way to do something. There are skills out there that can hide mountains, and you don’t think the enemy could sabotage your supply convoy?”
“But how can I know in advance?” Plinius said, frustrated. He didn’t understand what this man was complaining about.
“It’s called an asymmetric risk,” [General] Aurelianus chimed from the side. “Say that something is unlikely to happen, but if it were to happen, you would be dead. For you to squeeze all the convoy carts together means it’s easier to move them through a forest like this, but it also means that if its escort is killed, you have lost the war. You need to look for every single point of failure, [Sergeant].”
“And burning carts is always easier than killing [Soldiers],” Tizius added. “Why engage in a direct battle when you can send some trained troops to destroy your enemy’s food and let them starve while you have them chase you through impervious terrain?”
“I—I didn’t think of that,” Plinius sighed. “A-As—sorry, sir, could you repeat the name of that?” He asked, embarrassed.
“The name is not important, lad. You will get fucked by stupid moves like this. You have to put in that rotted head of yours that any small mistake that could cost you everything must be eliminated. When you come across the terrain like that,” the [General] pointed at the map that represented a jungle, “you need creative solutions. Your solution of having the convoy follow a straight line after some of the heavy units clear the terrain is the stupidest one. Try again.”
Plinius looked at the map and focused.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Rotten roots, what now? He was tired and stressed and not certainly in the best position to make decisions that would impact the future of hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.
“I can’t really think clearly, sir; I’m very tire—“
Before he could finish the sentence, the [General] slapped the back of his head and roared into his ear.
“Tired?! You think you will take decisions sitting on a plushy pillow while some high-class whore sucks your cock?!”
“No, sir! Sorry, sir!” Plinius snapped to attention.
“You’ll take these decisions while bleeding out while sweating in a suffocating climate or freezing your ass in the winter, [Sergeant],” Tizius added from the back. “These strategic sessions are long and progressively harder on purpose. If anything, you should get stabbed after the first few hours to truly simulate the real deal.”
“He’s certainly going to get his ass killed if he thinks like that,” the [General] hissed.
“Sir,” Plinius acknowledged the remark with a nod, “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try my best.”
The [General] sighed and nodded back. Right when he was about to add something, someone knocked on the door of the room they had been occupying for this exercise.
“Come in,” the [General] said.
“Sir,” [Captain] Caius entered the room and gave a non-committal glance to Plinius. “Cornelia Valeria Novafamilia is here to see you, sir.”
“Yes,” the [General] nodded. “Is she with you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let her in,” the older man nodded, passing his hand through his short hair and then glancing at Plinius. “Lad, behave.”
[Captain] Caius Cladius was part of the Gens Claudia, one of the most ancient noble families among the Elves, their lineage tracing back for more than a millennium down the Elven history. They were famous for being against any kind of relationship with Humans and were not too fond of the plebs either—Plinius, in this case, was the pleb Caius was not too fond of. Some of the old-school noble families believed that only the nobles should hold positions of power, no matter whether in the military on in the government: they believed that the nobles knew better.
“Aurelianus,” an old woman entered, followed by a [Guard] detail looking around the spartan room with only a table and a map and not much else. Not even chairs.
“[Lady] Cornelia,” the [General] gave her a small bow. “You already know Tizius and Caius. This here is the new prospect I might have already mentioned to you, Plinius, a not-so-green [Sergeant].”
Plinius found himself at a loss. He was pretty sure he had studied protocols on how to approach the nobles, but that had been weeks ago at the very least, and he had promised himself he would just review the customs before the Day of Blooming and the party at the Valerii.
“Er—milady,” Plinius opted for a deeper bow than the [General] and prayed with all his strength that it would be enough.
“Young trees don’t have thick trunks, but their branches are flexible and capable of holding the weight of the future,” the [Lady] said. “It’s a pleasure to be introduced to you, young [Sergeant]. Green is the past behind you, and steady your present.”
“It’s a noble’s salute,” [General] Aurelianus whispered into Plinius’s ear.
“T-thanks, milady,” Plinius blushed, not knowing what else to do. He was more than comfortable around young, beautiful women, but he had no idea how to behave around noble ones.
“Aurelianus,” Cornelia’s voice, albeit old, resounded crystalline and commanding. “I gather that your lessons to young Plinius have been lacking in terms of manners. I shall not take offense, but please, do instruct the boy before the ball. If he wants to be introduced to one of my granddaughters, he shall do better.”
“He will.”
Plinius could almost hear the [General]’s teeth grinding by his side as the man squeezed out the reply with a forced smile on his face.
“Now, now,” Cornelia Novafamilia said, “I wanted to discuss a few matters of importance with you. Tizius, you can stay. But I would like a clear room otherwise. I have brought my own protective enchantments, and, therefore, we won’t need to go to your quaint war room.”
“Plinius, Caius,” the [General] looked at them meaningfully.
“Yes, sir,” they both saluted and went straight for the door.
“How cute I find the military manners,” they heard Cornelia say before the door shut behind them and cut off all sound.
“You would have made a decent [Farmer],” [Captain] Caius commented with a scowl. “A [Captain], though? Tsk.”
But the man didn’t linger to hear Plinius’s response; he simply went his own way without looking back. Some nobles didn’t even bother with the plebs, treating them as if they didn’t exist.
Plinius sighed and shook his head.
It had been a long, long day. His lessons had been ramping up, and the [General] was observing him closer and closer every day. The man clearly wanted to make sure that Plinius wouldn’t mess up—something that not even Plinius was sure he would be able to accomplish anymore.
All this training… and all these things I still don’t know, he lamented internally. Even after cutting his ties with Flaminia, it was as if he didn’t have enough time in the world to learn everything he had to learn. Especially when it came to strategic maneuvers that, apparently, weren’t described in any of the strategy books he had read.
“What do I do if there’s impervious terrain… where the hell do I put the supply line?” Plinius kept chewing on the question. He was sure the [General] and the [Strategist] would have had ten different answers, all ten equally good. But him? He didn’t even have a hunch for it. He was good with a sword and maintaining ranks in combat, but this level of strategy still eluded him.
Maybe I could ask Irene? She always…
He remembered that he still hadn’t spoken to his sister after their fight. Irene had been defending the disgusting worm that had come to plague their town.
At least Appius is taking care of that…
“About that,” Plinius mumbled, making a turn, and, instead of going for his quarters, he started walking toward the barracks where all the [Soldiers] and [Corporals] stayed.
“Hey, dipshit,” he suddenly heard someone call as he passed a corridor. “I hear you have been taking private lessons from the [General]. Try as much as you want, Plinius. Your molded ass isn’t going to get the [Captain] spot.”
Plinius groaned, turning to find the other [Sergeant] gunning for the [Captain] promotion and the mission.
“Sempronius,” Plinius said the man’s name, bringing his hand to the sword by his side instinctively. “Are you looking for another lesson in sword fighting?”