As they passed through the forest, Lynnabel rode up beside Daveth. He nodded at her, and adjusted one of his bracers so that it fit more comfortably on his forearm.
“I have a question, Lord Commander.” Lynnabel said, and Daveth raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Fire away.”
“What exactly will we be doing after we collect our bounty in Landeck?”
Daveth raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Honestly not sure. Aldric is playing this one close to his chest. I know that we’ll be heading northeast from Landeck into the Duchy of Nauders. What comes after that is anyones’ guess.”
Lynnabel nodded, a troubled look on her face.
“Lord Commander, I was given to understand you were... trying to be”, she broke off with a troubled expression, eyes shifting restlessly, “considerate of Alysia and myself back there, at the beastman village.”
“You going to yell at me too?” He asked, and her eyebrows rose, but she shook her head with a smile. “My cherished sister is perhaps not as friendly as she could be, I think.” She began, but glanced up at him. “Your consideration is based on the idea that there are similarities between the people of that village and ourselves.” She shook her head. “Frankly, the idea of that is insulting... which by extension your consideration is also an insult.”
Daveth sighed angrily. “Or you could say that it’s my way of saying that despite our massacre of wolf-type beastmen, I hold you two in a higher level of regard.” He argued, and she glanced to the side.
“If we are going to have this conversation, Lord Commander, it would be wise to exercise discretion.” a note of warning crept into her voice. Daveth clenched his jaw, but nodded.
After a few moments she spoke up.
“You already give us all the consideration we need, Lord Commander.” She spoke quietly. “By allowing us to serve in your ranks, to fight at your side, and abide by the concessions we requested at our recruitment you have provided us with all the consideration we require.” She smiled up at him. “The trust you have placed in us is admirable, Lord Commander, and we do all we can to live up to that expectation.”
Daveth nodded thoughtfully, then turned away from her.
*****
The march out of the woods was a slow and sedate process. It was quiet at first, but after a while, the chatter of conversation eventually started back up. Too much had happened too quickly for anyone to make sense of it all at once.
On the lips of everyone, however, was the same name: Jonan. He’d been such a permanent fixture in the ranks that from time to time people would look around, expecting to see him riding alongside someone or another, dispensing advice and his own blend of dry and grim humor.
*****
As was often the case, Daveth awoke from his dreams with a sense of foreboding in his head and an uneasiness sickening his stomach. He could never remember his dreams except for strange snatched glimpses that filled his mind and body with an overwhelming sense of dread.
It had been this way since before he could remember. It had troubled him as a child until his mother, crooning to him in High Urthan after he’d awoken screaming from his nightmare, explained to him that there was no reason to fear a dream or nightmare that he couldn’t remember. “Let dreams stay in the land of dreams where they belong, my son, “ She’d murmur to him, and eventually he’d let it go.
Daveth got up and sniffed the chilly air in his tent as he dressed. There was a scent of the forest in the air, a ghost of the perfume Aurene used to wear, the tang of sweat, a rich smell of the earth beneath his feet.
Daveth strapped on a sword and stepped out of his tent, and began to walk.
“I cannot take you with me.” Lynnabel insisted to the wolf-child that stood in front of her. He was perhaps ten or twelve, with unkempt hair and a strange, wild appearance on his face. He’d followed them from the wolven camp they’d burned days ago, tracking Lynnabel and Alysia by scent, dodging sentries until he could find his way to their shared tent.
He shrugged uneasily. There was simply no one else.
“Is there any place you can go?” She asked him kindly, and he shook his head.
“I can learn to fight.” He urged. “I can carry things for you!” She shook her head again.
A breeze drifted down the tight rows of tents, bringing with it her Lord Commander’s scent. She blinked in astonishment. Was he already up? Had he somehow decided to take a turn at the watch? Was this some late-night inspection?
She eyed the young boy again. “Come inside.” She told him, and led him into the tent.
There was a moment when Daveth considered marching down the rows of tents and ending the problem with one stroke of his sword. After a few moments of consideration, however, he decided that he’d simply let Lynnabel handle the issue.
From time to time the camp followers would get married or have a child regardless of wedlock; in situations like that Aldric was quick to remove them from the Seal. A mercenary camp was no place for children or families. There was no way that the child came from the followers’ wagons, Aldric would not allow it.
While the child was hard to see in the dim light of early morning, there were only a few places the child could have come from, Daveth surmised. Either the boy was the best-kept secret of the camp followers, or the child had come from the forest... or perhaps had come from the remains of the wolf beastman camp from a few days back. Daveth allowed himself to run with his assumptions.
If the child came from the camp followers, what justification was there for him to visit Alysia and Lynnabel? If he came from the beastman camp, it was possible he’d sensed some sort of kinship between himself and the wolfish sisters.
He didn’t completely understand everything Aurene had revealed to him during their time together on the boat, but he felt like he could understand a sense of kinship might be there. He sheathed his sword. He’d let Lynnabel handle it in her own way.
“Good afternoon, Lynnabel.” Daveth called to the woman as she took her place at the long bench with her plate of food. Her head came up and she turned a little. “Ah, good afternoon, Lord Commander.” She returned. “Will we be spending much more time in the forest?” She asked curiously. He shook his head.
“Probably not.” He replied. “If we’re lucky we’ll be leaving the forest and rejoining the road within the day.” She nodded at that. He took his place next to her, and she conscientiously scooted an extra few inches away from him.
“I had a question for you, if you don’t mind.” He opened, scooping some food off his battered plate into his mouth.
She waited while he ate, eyeing him carefully. He didn’t often speak to them, but when he did it didn’t often end well. He had an unruly and unrestrained nature that was often at odds with her own ordered and diligent nature.
“Yes? What is it, Lord Commander?” She asked respectfully. He stopped shovelling, and chewed thoughtfully, brows furrowed in thought. It seemed like he was looking over at the picket lines at the rows of horses, but she could imagine his attention was wholly on her.
“Will you be needing extra supplies?” He asked carefully, eyeing a piece of bird meat on his plate. “Rations and the like.”
Her eyes widened a fraction, a multitude of emotions washing over her, causing her heart to pound, and then she remembered his scent last night. She took a breath, and for a moment she felt a great amount of pride fill her chest for herself, and for her Lord Commander. He knew about what happened last night. He was discreet.
She shook her head. “No, Lord Commander.” She replied, and smiled at him. “But I would appreciate being placed on scout duty today.” His eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “As you wish. I’ll juggle the roster.” She bowed at him, and he snorted a little.
“Thank you, Lord Commander.” She said gratefully, and he rose to his feet and scraped the leavings from his plate into the fire and left.
*****
He came upon her in the woods, struggling with her burden. He reached behind him and tossed a shovel so that it landed at her feet. She spun, sword coming from her scabbard in a flash.
“I sort of had the idea you’d need that.” He remarked quietly. She nodded.
“I could not figure out a way of discreetly taking one.” Lynnabel replied, sheathing her blade. “I apologize for drawing my weapon on you, Lord Commander.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have much time. Let’s see what we can do.” She nodded, and they set to work, burying the boy.
She eyed him as he worked, digging with the shovel. Humans rarely did anything without some desire for compensation. What could he want from her? She dismissed the obvious after a moment’s thought. it hadn’t been very long since he’d parted ways with Aurene, so it didn’t seem like he would demand her companionship. From time to time she suspected Alysia might have some designs upon the giant, but for herself she didn’t particularly desire him. Did he want money? Irrational, since he was the one that paid them.
Between the two of them they’d dug a short hole, about four feet deep. He slung the shovel to the side and picked up the cloth-wrapped bundle.
“Lord Commander, I can do that, if you wish.” She offered, but he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter who does it as long as it gets done, right?” He asked rhetorically, and she nodded.
He didn’t ask her why she’d done it. Did he understand why?
“There was nothing that could have been done, was there?” He asked, and caught her eye. She shook her head. “There is no place for a boy like him in our camp.” She replied, choosing Aldric’s words the last time a camp follower had given birth. He struggled with his response and she could see the unasked questions on his face. Instead, he stepped out of the trench and offered his hand to her, which she gratefully accepted.
“Lord Commander...” She began, but stopped. Would it be impolitic to ask? She wondered.
“Yes?” He asked, and she sighed a little through her nose.
“What is the price for your continued... discretion?” She asked, and began shovelling earth into the grave.
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He chuckled and shook his head. “Soldiers look after each other.” She smiled at that. “As do friends, no?” She offered, and he nodded, returning her smile.
*****
“It’s a shame we sold the cannon.” Daveth reflected mournfully, moving his horse easily along the road. Overhead, the sun filtered through the aspens, already yellow as the seasonal shift into fall began.
“No it’s not.” Alysia replied irritably, riding next to him. There seemed to be a permanent mark between her eyebrows where they drew together in disapproval.
She sat far less comfortably than Daveth, tightly clenching the reins and jolting at just about every step. Since the massacre of the wolf-beastman tribe a few days past, her attitude seemed especially sour. What made it worse for him was that she always seemed to be just around the corner, always near enough to frown in disapproval at anything he did. Daveth rolled his eyes at her, a smirk playing across his face.
*****
After the horrors of Ankar-Set, Aldric had herded the Seventh Seal onto the ships again and sent them to the port city of Hitotsuna, where they were forced to part with one of the two cannon they’d picked up from a surprisingly ineppt merchant. The money was enough to fund the march to their next job, located in the far north, the Duchy of Nauders.
And so they marched, from Einsamkeit north to Bergierde, and then onward to Tannit, from Tannit they turned northeast and then north again when they reached the Landsberger, the great highway that lead north to Landeck and finally the Duchy of Nauders itself.
The duchy itself was about eight hundred miles north-northeast of Begierde and only a scant few miles south of the Spine, just to the east of Timwaite Pass, the one passable breach in the great mountain range that separated the algid wastes of the North and the horrors that lay beyond.
“Have you fought in many engagements, Alysia?” Daveth asked curiously, releasing his reins and casually guiding with his knees as he reached into his coat.
“I daresay this sounds like a prelude to an insult.” Alysia responded warily. Daveth’s eyebrows rose and he chuckled as he pulled out a smoking pipe and tobacco pouch.
“It was a question, Alysia.” He replied blandly, tucking the tobacco into his pipe with a practiced thumb. “I’m making sure you and I are capable of relating to each other on the discussion of warfare.”
She bit her lip. “There were a few times that I participated in actions with my fellow sisters, before Lynnabel and I came to this continent and signed up.” She allowed.
“Oh? How large were they?” Daveth asked, curious. He leaned back to his saddlebags casually and dug around for a match to light his pipe as they talked.
“Bandit groups.” She said, and added, “About fifteen to fifty opponents.”
Daveth made some noise, ‘hmmm’ in response.
“What’re you doing, Lord Commander?” She asked curiously as he pawed at his saddlebags awkwardly.
“Looking for a lucifer.” He replied distractedly.
Alysia reached into a satchel she kept close to her and pulled out a pouch. In the pouch was a small box with lucifer matches. She passed them to him wordlessly, and he nodded. “Thanks.” He popped one alight with his fingernail, and puffed on his pipe a little while until he was convinced that it was well-lit. He nodded at her in thanks and passed the box back.
“Fighting bandits is not making war, Alysia.” He said quietly after she had stowed the pouch back in her satchel. “From the sound of things it’s like you haven’t seen a real war.”
“You have?” She asked, and he nodded. “Will you tell me of them?” She asked in a curiously quiet tone.
“Mmm. Yeah, there was a couple of engagements that were... It was war. Our two hundred against some landed noble’s... seven hundred.” He said, remembering. “In that sort of fight, you welcome cannon.” he confided, leaning towards her a little and gesturing with his pipe, “Grape against massed infantry; normal loads against emplacements. Enemy cannon, trebuchet, catapults, whatever. Area-denial with wagons of arquebuses and alchemist’s fire.”
“Area denial?” Alysia asked, curious. Daveth forced his horse into hers and pushed her to the other side of the road.
“If you deny access to certain spots on the battlefield, where is the enemy going to go?” He asked casually. She nodded slowly. “I know of what you speak.” She replied dourly. “Your term was confusing.”
He shrugged at this. “Those types of engagements are the worst; when noble pits against noble for some insult... or perceived insult. It’s not ... clean.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “No war is clean, though. Anyone who thinks that is an idiot.”
He glanced at Alysia. “Scenario: You’re now in charge of two hundred troops. Your opponent outnumbers you three to one. They’re better geared, they’re entrenched in a fortified position. The local church has been bought and paid for, so they have clerics that will heal injured troops, and missionaries that shout out the righteousness of their cause. To go against them, they say, is to go against righteousness and justice.”
He glanced at Alysia and rolled his eyes to show how he felt about that particular sentiment.
“How do you engage them?” He asked. “More to the point, how do you win?”
“What are my forces comprised of?” She asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Daveth caught Aldric listening in.
“Hmm, good question. I was originally thinking that we could use the Seal, but instead, let’s simply say that it’s an army of your sisters.”
Her eyebrows raised at that.
“I... I do not know, Lord Commander.” She finally answered. “I have not held a command position, or encountered a scenario like you describe.” he nodded.
“Well, what sorts do you have for cavalry?” he asked. She shook her head. “We are not well-versed in riding horses, Lord Commander. However, our Golds can run as quickly as a warrior on horseback, even in full plate.”
“Hmmm. Archers?” he asked, but she shook her head. “A weapon that lacks dignity.”
He smiled at that. “In that, I’ll disagree. There are Yamato archers that focus exclusively on the aesthetics of archery. Archers that take it from a simple nock-and-release to a ... form of poetry. Every movement is weighed, measured, and assessed, long before the arrow is put to string. They can deny an area, rake a group, or put a single arrow on target from five hundred yards and never run out of arrows doing it.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But we’re not talking about that right now.” He gestured to Audra.
“In war, archers don’t pick specific targets. They shoot for range. A hail of arrows at two or three hundred yards is going to intercept your advancing troops if you’re just infantry. A flanking attack from cavalry would scatter your lines, and you’d better pray to all the forgotten gods and goddesses that they don’t have mages, because if they do, then you’re really screwed.”
She glanced back at the files behind them. No doubt she was looking at the cart that carried the mages too unskilled to ride.
Daveth shook his head. “We don’t have the type of mages I’m speaking of. I’m talking about the kind that will fly up into the air, turn themselves invisible, and then bombard the battlefield with giant balls of fire.”
Alysia’s eyes widened. “The Order of the Wolf would be decimated.” Daveth nodded consideringly.
“Perhaps they should revise their strategies, then. But we’re talking about this scenario. Now-”
Aldric interrupted, riding up to their position. He glanced to Daveth.
“How would you have done it?” He asked. Daveth glanced at him curiously. “You mean the Allyen Crusade?” He asked, referring to the scenario he’d mentioned to Alysia, an engagement the Seventh Seal had participated in several years prior. Aldric nodded.
Daveth thumbed his chin. “Well, if I had my way, I wouldn’t’ve been there in the first place. Squabbles between nobility are no true place for a soldier.” he spread his hands disarmingly. “If I were in charge there, though, I’d’ve opened combat with the cannon, to show them I meant business. I’d’ve had the mobile artillery on one flank and archers on the other. Supporting the mages would be a battery of scorpio, or an arquebus wagon. Push forward with cavalry in an inverted wedge and scoop their flanks. Overhead I’d’ve had mages with flight and invisibility, dropping fireballs into their ranks and emplacements and setting the flanks on fire. If they’re strong enough, or if the mages are using brooms or carpets or whatever, take along some shock troops to deep-strike into ranks of the enemy. No mages? That’s fine. Give me glass bolts filled with alchemist’s fire to launch from the scorpios. Target massed groups of infantry or flanks of their troops for area-denial.”
“What about infantry?” Aldric asked curiously. Daveth shook his head. “They’re the broom to sweep the battlefield clean. Triple-ranks with twenty-foot pikes, lightly armored, all pushing forward at a full run, shoulder-to-shoulder.”
Aldric whistled, impressed, and Daveth shrugged. “I think the nature of war is changing. Lots of mobility, flanking and counter-flanking, area denial, and long-range interdiction. If you must have formations, make them small and keep them mobile.” He sighed. “If I had my way, I’d have every mage running laps around the camp every night to build up stamina.”
“They’ll start tonight.” Aldric decided. Daveth raised his eyebrows. “Thanks, boss.” Aldric spread his hands and smiled. “I’m of a mind to give you what you want, when it makes sense.”
“A raise, then.” Daveth immediately demanded.
“Denied.” Aldric snapped back.
“Better food? I’m tired of the same trailbread and gravy.” Daveth offered weakly, and Aldric just laughed and led his horse back to his files.
Alysia stayed with him. “Did you mean what you said?” Alysia asked suddenly, as Daveth was puffing away. He glanced at her.
“I said a lot of things”, he remarked. “What in particular?” He asked curiously.
“About war. About how it’s changing.”
Daveth nodded. “Of course. It’s always changing. Oh, sure, the philosophers and peacemongers will tell you that war never changes, but it does. The tools and strategies are always changing. Think about it: first you build a tool, and then you weaponize it. That’s what happened with magic, isn’t it? Everyone understands you can use magic to cause an earthquake, or fling big bloody balls of fire at the enemy or whatnot, but do you think to consider my skillet?”
Alysia blinked. She wasn’t expecting that. “What?”
“What I’m saying is that whoever came up with the idea of a fireball probably had a completely different use for that spell before it was used for combat.” he emphasised. “Now, back to my skillet: Food doesn’t stick to it. That means I can cook steak or vegetables, or whatever I want and cleanup is a cinch.”
Alysia rolled her eyes at this.
“My point is this: Swords easily lodge in bone. A mace or a spear can stick. What would happen if a metal that couldn’t stick were fashioned into a weapon?” He asked, and Alysia’s eyebrows rose. “First we had boats to fish, or move things across rivers and lakes and seas and the like. now we have them equipped with cannon, and they carry armies.”
She nodded.
“What do you think about the skyships, then?” He asked. Her eyebrows shot up. “I hadn’t...” She started, but he held up his hand, forestalling her.
“A skyship, loaded with cannon and five hundred heavily armed troops. Enchant their boots with something that lets them fall safely and just... fly over a city and drop them in.”
“Then there would be no point to sieges.” Alysia breathed. He nodded. “Now, instead of ships, small flying boats with a crew of three and a force of twenty soldiers. Ten boats.”
“Why small boats instead of a larger ship?” Alysia asked.
“Think about it and you’ll get it.”
“The skyship is a larger target.” She replied, irritated that it had to be pointed out to her. He nodded.
“Smaller boats would probably move faster because they’re lighter, too.”
“What about a two or three man boat, then?” She asked. “A ... ship captain, and a pair of mages to provide the weaponry?” She asked. He laughed at that. “I like that. Small, fast, maneuverable, deadly.”
He rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hand. “Oh man.”
“What?” She asked curiously.
“Think of how Ankar-Set would have played out if we’d repurposed the Orgus sandboats- figured out how they worked.”
Her eyes got huge and he nodded. “See?” He stuck his pipe back in his mouth and puffed out a couple thick plumes.
“I think I have to revise how I consider you, Lord Commander.” Alysia finally stated. Daveth raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"The parcel on the back of my horse, Lord Commander." Alysia pointed awkwardly at the large bundle of leather just behind her saddle. "I cannot reach it on my own." He edged his horse closer to hers and lifted it off. "This?" He asked, presenting it to her. She waved her hand in dismissal. "Yes. It is... for you, Lord Commander."
He blinked a few times and examined the bundle. The leather had been treated and boiled and treated again so that it was both soft and pliable and waterproof. Unrolled however, it seemed like it was large enough for a tent.
"What is it?" He asked, eyebrow raising suspiciously. She frowned at him irritably. "It is a cloak, Lord Commander." She replied dourly. "We are in the north, and it is cold here." She hesitated as he swung the cloak about his shoulders, fingering the thick collar of bear that had been stitched on. "Lynnabel traded for a bear pelt from the beastmen. You may... You may consider it a gift from my sister and I. For your consideration." She twisted the horses’ reins awkwardly and stiffened as it turned.
He eyed her. “You know, your horse knows how to carry you better than you know how to control it.” He remarked. “It’s a warhorse. trust it to not let you fall, and let it take care of the rest.”
She stared at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second pair of eyes on his face.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to help you, here.” He remarked. “You’re making the horse nervous with the way you sit.” He added. “You’re riding like you think the horse is out of control. It’s not. It knows what to do. You don’t. Trust it to know what to do.”
She shook her head, but he raised his hand in a forestalling gesture. “The horse knows war. It’s trained to take its rider into the thickest fighting, to cover the most treacherous ground carefully without risking its rider. It’s supposed to be calm and confident. The horse can sense your nervousness, and so that in turn makes the horse nervous, which makes it harder to control.”