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Gregoire, the Gargoyle of Normandie
Chapter 28: Planning for the Next Step

Chapter 28: Planning for the Next Step

“Did you get the eastern scouting reports back?” asked the duke. He was standing at the head of the County of Maine’s map. The man who had come to report the situation hadn’t moved out of the entrance’s way. I was in the tent’s left most corner while Damien stood at the duke’s right.

I wondered why the duke never had any more protection. I could only imagine how strong Damien could be. He was probably one of the rare class holders who were able to reach the third-class evolution.

“Yes, my lord,” began the scout. He walked up to the map and grabbed a few pins set to the side. “We have identified two regiments of two hundred men belonging to the viscount of Laval. Since his daughter is the wife of the eldest and current count, there is no reason to doubt his allegiance. However, the viscount of Mayenne whose daughter is currently engaged to the youngest is less supportive. He has sent one regiment of a hundred men but they are mainly composed of peasants and mercenaries.” He proceeded to stick pins in the approximate region where these respective armies had reached.

“Is that all?” asked the duke.

“No, Philip, the second son and his supporters are currently stuck in Sablé. The past storm hit the region particularly hard and the Sarthe has flowed out of its banks. It should take him another week or two to reach Le-Mans.”

“Anything else?”

“No, my Lord.” Bowing, the scout left the tent and I walked up to the map. The duke stare was intense, and his mind did not seem to think of anything but the war.

“That makes one thousand five hundred,” he said.

“Yes, but we’ve only lost ten to dysentery and if we stall a bit more, we could arrive at Le-Mans at the same time as Sir Philip,” said Damien. “Currently we number two thousand fifty-seven. The new count will be careful to engage us. In all honesty, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to face them head on—”

“But we shouldn’t." Turning to me, the duke spoke to me for the first time since calling me here. “Gregoire, you were a part of the southern scouting corps who fought an enemy mounted unit right.”

“Yes, we killed seventeen of their horses, the other half ran away,” I said trying to copy the speaking habits of those who had made their rounds here.

“That’s not what I want to know. Tell me how strong, were they? Do you think they had any class holders? How was their discipline and tactics? And their armour quality?”

I couldn’t deal with so many questions. Not to mention I wasn’t paying attention to such things during the fight. But I couldn’t say that. “We killed twenty when we were sixty… we lost maybe seven, no twelve men—”

“Don’t push him too hard my lord,” interrupted Damien. “I doubt he remembers much; it was his first battle.”

The duke’s eyes were cold. I was at his side only because I had a unique class. I knew that if anyone else had my powers, I’d be put to the stake. My class had saved me for now, but for how long. If a battle went badly, I couldn’t help but imagine my head severed.

“Tell me everything of relevance.” The duke took a deep breath.

“The mounted men-at-arms didn’t seem much stronger than the average classless person, but they were well trained. I don’t know how, but after a few moments in the engagement we were encircled, but they weren’t enough to attack us so they tried to scare us into staying put until reinforcements came, but we broke through just before that happened.”

“And the reinforcements couldn’t catch up with you?”

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“No, I don’t think they have any speed-related class holders. At least not in that group.”

“And you found them while traveling south? But more South-East or West?” asked the duke, pondering.

“It was the East always.”

The duke looked back to Damien. “I suppose we won’t be able to split them up.”

“No,” he answered. “They seem to be staying together. They know you have more men; it would be stupid for them to try and pincer you.”

“I suppose, but I rather not face them head on. This won’t be our last war.” The duke turned to me. “Is there a limit as to how many gargoyles you can control.”

I suppose he was thinking that if I went around collecting them all I might be a considerable force, unfortunately—

“Only two,” I answered. I wouldn’t tell him that I could delegate a third to someone else.

He turned back to his map. “I didn’t want to do this, but I suppose we won’t have a choice but to scorch the villages supplying Le Mans.”

#

“Where do you hail from?” asked the city guard.

I had been sent away to go and find gargoyles to aid in my future mission. I wasn’t useless without them, but at the end of the day, I was a gargoyle class holder.

“From the village of Mamers.”

“You do have that Northern accent, but what are you doing all the way south?”

He was still being suspicious of me, but he didn’t look overly concerned. For the past week, I had traveled alone in the woods, barely eating say for the few edible berries and mushrooms I spotted along the way. I suppose they didn’t think any Normand spy would stoop so low as to be reduced to a beggar for their mission.

They’d come as merchants or adventurers.

“I was afraid for my life. I didn’t know what the Normand army would do so I left when I heard they entered the territory.”

“And it took you so long to come this far?”

“It’s my first time traveling. I got lost.”

“Well, do you at least have some coins or are you coming to beg?”

“No, I have some. I shook my little coin purse.”

“I suppose you’re fine, what’s your name?” He asked. He seemed like a decent guard. I suppose abusive guards were only found in Normandie.

“It’s Daniel,” I said on the spot, not having planned out an identity other than being a peasant boy.

“Well, me it’s Radcliff, feel free to use my name if you go to the Red Rock Inn. They’ll make it work.”

“Thank you,” I said before going on my way. Looking back, the guard was back to screening the others in line. I wondered if I should maybe stay here a night or two. It might help me create an actual identity if I ever needed to do a similar mission… or if I didn’t manage to get a warrior class after my upgrade I could run away here.

But first, I wanted to take a look at my two new gargoyles.

#

There are four gargoyles you may control.

You may choose between Hrenold, Ristole, Triss, Bale, and Isa.

Who knew there would be so many options? Standing to the side of the street, I looked up to the Lord’s castle. I could see the five gargoyles. Two sat on each of the castle’s spires, and one sat right above the castle gates. That one was huge, nearly one and a half times the size of a human. I needed to get that one. But the others... two were small, no bigger than Ligothe and the final two were about the same size as Gothe and Gotha.

This was a problem. I didn’t know which ones held which names and I wasn’t about to guess.

Not only did I needed the biggest gargoyle for practical reasons, I couldn’t bear the weight of having to use the two smallest gargoyles to fight. They reminded me too much of Ligothe.

If at the end of this war, I didn’t level up to a warrior class I might just come back and take them with me and we could go and live a quiet life in the Alps. But for now, I needed to figure out the names of the different gargoyles.

Now were the gargoyles the only ones who knew their own names or were they named by the Lord and the people. Looking around, I found a group of kids sitting besides a candy store gnawing on hard candy.

“Sorry, I’m from the countryside and was wondering if those gargoyles had names?”

They looked at me weirdly, protecting their candy. When they realized I wasn’t there to steal their candy one said, “Yea, the big one is King, the two on the right are Knight Arthur, and Squire John…” They continued to list the gargoyles’ names, but evidently it didn’t match.

I suppose this should have been expected; kids would make up their own names for the gargoyles.

Even if I asked adults, they may switch up the names of the gargoyles. I should probably ask the count’s librarian if I wanted an accurate answer, hopefully the count of Maine’s library is publicly accessible.

#

“I’m afraid the library is closed to the public until the end of the war. If you have an official permit to enter the premise please present it to me.”