They were roused early the next morning, and ordered, unit by unit, to get their breakfast. It was a fine one, made from interesting combinations of the previous night’s leftovers. After that they were told to arm up and report to the beach for training. Each group of their regular military was in a nice, neat square. Except for their own, which did their best to just be orderly. The mercenary and noble levies were generally just organized clumps.

Officers roved up and down on horses, bringing units into order and lines and there was a tent on the castle side of the beach for the VIPs.

The first orders were for general parading up and down. They marched to one end of the beach as a group, turned, and marched back in good order. Then the regular army did some fancier maneuvers, where one unit split to fall back while the next advanced between them to form another line.

When the sun was fully up, and it was just beginning to get warm, they were given a break. As the VIPs clustered to discuss something at the lake shore, porters appeared from the camp carrying boxes. One of these was placed with each unit and handed over to their officer.

“Troops”, Lieutenant Jamil called them to order. “New gear. File past, collect two, and strap them on.”

Curious, they followed the order. The box contained bent pieces of iron, serrated on one side and with simple leather thongs on the other. The Lieutenant had taken a pair and demonstrated their use by strapping them to her feet.

“Cleats?” said Zipper. “I know the beach sand isn’t that good a surface, but I’m not sure how these will help.”

Delta elbowed her, as Jamil was looking up to see who was making noise. When everyone had them strapped on and was standing at attention again, Jamil made a signal by holding up a flag. Up and down the line they saw other officers signaling similarly until everyone had a flag up. Another flag waved at the VIP tent and the flags were all lowered. Jamil beamed.

All the other units seemed equally confused. Necks craned looking up and down the beach trying to work out what was going on. The party of VIPs had moved to the lake side. They didn’t seem like regular army officers. They were arrayed around a bent old lady holding on to the supporting arm of a young woman in blue with white hair. She made a few gestures and there was a sudden creaking and groaning sound. People shifted in alarm as they saw the lake change, radiating away from her. The waves stilled and it took on a white, glittering appearance. It had turned to ice.

Trumpets sounded the attack cadence, and suddenly officers were shouting them forward. Reflexively they advanced, first over sand, and then out onto the hard ice, their cleats digging in and giving them grip. Delta and Zipper grinned at each other. This was crazy! Gwen was having a bit harder time of it. They hadn’t made cleats for Johnston, and although he had claws, he was very dubious about the ice. But with everyone encouraging him on, they got the momentum going.

Once the way was clear ahead, Jamil called double time and they started jogging across. Up on the castle walls they could see people watching in confusion, and then alarm. Gongs sounded and people scurried about, not knowing what to do. They were nearly abreast of them before the first arrows came down.

The harbor wall had been built to keep out waves, not invaders. It was more of an angled slope than a solid barrier. Some units had been directed to those walls, taking the left and right, but the bulk went straight up the middle. The few craft that remained in the harbor were solidly locked up in ice. Officers pranced up and down, their horses also traversing the ice. The vanguard unit had stormed the harbor square and held the entrances to it. The square then became a staging ground as arriving units shucked their cleats, and then were ordered to various quarters of the city.

Scattered resistance had started up, and guards were issuing from their barracks to challenge the invaders. But they had little supporting fire from the walls. All of the arrow slits faced outwards.

When it came time for their unit, they were ordered up the main avenue. They were to take and hold the central market square. Resistance was not expected, and they were to hold position, discourage looters, and stand by to reinforce any unit that needed it.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

It was a very different view they had marching up the street than the last time they were here. The crowded bustle had evaporated, and people ran away from the troops, leaving carts littering the streets. They pushed some of these aside, but mostly moved around them, the Lieutenant eager to secure the square and prevent the enemy from maneuvering through it.

They reached it and formed up in the middle. Imposing guild buildings lined it, and huddled and frightened faces looked down from many windows. The Lieutenant straightened the line up and stood before them, watching up and down the roads and lanes, looking for orders.

Suddenly there was a thwack noise and the Lieutenant dropped like a stone. Everyone stood stunned for a moment, then Delta yelled “Shield’s up! Archer! Ware!”

They lurched into motion, all the regulars forming a ceiling and those without shields clustering next to the orcs with their great shields. Another arrow hit the cobblestones near them. “There!” cried Delta. The Clothworkers Guild had a tall bell tower, from which the hours were run. In the housing at the top they could see a guard with a long bow, fitting an arrow.

“Move, move!” called Delta. “You two, get the Lieutenant”, Delta ordered the dwarf and Masami. “You two, cover them with your shields”, she called to two of the regular troops. They turtled up and made for the edge of the square nearest the tower. The two orcs had thundered ahead and were now beating on the guild door.

“Get close”, shouted Delta. “There’s no parapet. They can’t hit us if we stick close.”

She spared a quick glance at the Lieutenant. The arrow had come steeply down, between the lames of the pauldron and had gone deep. It did not look good. The dwarf and Masami were seeing to her, trying to staunch the wound, but there was no hope in their eyes. Most of the others were huddled up against the building, shields above them where possible.

The orcs had battered down the door and flung themselves inside. “Zip, you two, with me”, shouted Delta. “Gwen: down to the docks. Tell them our officer is down.”

She rushed inside. People cowered in corners, shrinking away from them. The orcs had made for the stairs and she could hear them thundering up them. She led the way, following them, floor after floor. The dwarf passed her halfway up, as she slowed from the climb. It sounded as if the orcs had got there from the shouts and screams. She drew a deep breath and pushed herself again, to try to make up the distance.

When she got there, sunlight was streaming in. A great bell hung above them, and it was open on all sides. One of the orcs had the archer by his foot, and held him out over the edge, screaming insults at him and shaking him. The other orc stood by, visibly upset and shouting, but standing his ground. The dwarf looked to her as she came in.

“Trooper”, commanded Delta. “Put him down.”

The orc snarled at her, “He shoot Lieutenant.” He shook the archer for good measure. A cry of lamentation went up from the square below. Delta took a deep breath. The orc screamed again, and tears streamed down his face.

“Yes”, Delta said. “He killed the Lieutenant. He will be judged. But not by us.”

“He die!” shouted the orc. “He kill. He die.”

“No”, commanded Delta. Then, “Trooper! Listen. Are you a soldier or not?”

That seemed to get his attention. “I soldier. I good soldier. I revenge Lieutenant.”

“No”, said Delta again. “Good troopers follow orders. He is now prisoner. We do not kill prisoners.”

The orc howled again, and shook the man, who was blubbering himself. But the orc seemed undecided.

“She taught me to be good soldier”, said the orc, shaking the man again, less hard.

“We will bury her with honor”, said Delta. “You must honor her teaching.”

The orc growled and stared at the man with deep hatred. Then he flung him back onto the platform and sagged against the support, crying bitterly.

The man scampered across the floor towards Delta, his ankle was clearly broken or badly sprained. “Save me” he blubbered. “Get that monster away from me.”

With a grim look Delta pushed him aside with her foot and stepped past him to stand before the orc. “I am Captain Delta of Wight’s Brigade. I stood in the battle at Cleres in the center on the Montihouse side. The strength of the Imperial army came against me. All of my comrades died. But I held, lived, and continued the brigade. For that, I was given this medal.” She unpinned the medal that she had been given back in Lyre by an orc. She then recited the prior history of the medal, as had been told to her by the orc. “What you did right now was very hard. Putting honor above vengeance is what makes us professional soldiers. We strike to defeat our enemy, not in anger. You made the right choice in a difficult circumstance. For that I give you this medal.”

She held it out and he stared at it. Then he knuckled some tears out of his eyes and stared at her. Slowly, he reached out and took it. The other orc standing next to Delta watched and nodded his head slowly.

Delta turned to the man, cowered up against the railing of the staircase. “You two, get this piece of trash out of here.” They moved and with grim faces and not too gentle hands, took the archer down the stairs.

She turned back to the orc. He had come away from the edge and was staring at the medal. Delta clapped him on the arm. “Put it on. Let’s get back downstairs. The war isn’t over yet.”

She headed down and he followed.