9.9

Jewel stood with most of her body furled around the outside of the tent finishing off her supper of Traveler’s bread soaked into a porridge of goats milk and bone broth.

Count Fiebron and Baron Kliatbatrn had finally settled on the plan for the day.

“In the morning, we will do a half march to offer battle to Thurzó and his army, arrayed on the ridge of the hills. If he accepts it will be a solid advantage to us on the first charge and discourage the levy from breaking as their best way of retreat home will be uphill and through the woods.”

Baron Kliatbatrn huffed and then pointed at the scrawl of a map done in charcoal on wood by Fiebron and the Gryphon Riders with some assistance by Jewel’s own memory.

“Best if we have at least one line of our knights here close to the road back. It will further imperil any cowardice amongst the levy or footmen, should it come to that, and also give our chargers the opportunity to encircle if opportunity arrives. With their twin in number on the opposite ridge.”

Fiebron nodded to his counterpart.

“The Gryphon riders will be in the air to shield our march from harassment. Open flight forms to discourage attack. I’ll descend if I see a trap or a line in danger of breaking. I will leave it to the Gryphon lords to do the same and cover one another. The Junior Knights are to remain in the air and offer support from there.”

Jewel looked at the scratches of charcoal on pale wood and tried to place their gestures to her memory of the shallow hills deeply furrowed by ploughs. Roads and trails and expanses of trees. The wheat had long since harvested and likely kept secure in the walls of the Fortress they were arrayed against.

Or in the awful secondary fortress that had been made of mud, wood and loose stones outside it.

Jewel considered that she had missed the opportunity to dance this year with the Summer Harvest.

Fiebron continued, gesturing here and there.

“We hold back from the offensive in air until we have felt the mettle and number of their wings. Then strike as there is opportunity.”

Father spoke up then.

“And we are sure we are keeping Jewel grounded for the march and the offering of battle? Her agility in the air is unparalleled, as is her capacity to attack hampered by being on the ground.”

The first among Generals shook his head, shaking out his snow white mane and waggling the gray streaked beard.

“Our use of her is best done after either Thurzó has committed his army to battle and cannot call them back or we have gained assurance that he is holding himself for a siege. Before they fully realize the danger she poses. We will at best have one opportunity to use her wyrm doom to its greatest effectiveness.”

The second among Generals nodded to Father and rumbled.

“We stay to the plan and keep her mostly grounded and only using spurious and short bursts of fire if we come under attack in the march. As alike to a wild wyrm as we can manage to start. Have her fly only in short bursts and make it as ungainly a tumble on the wing as possible with low altitude. She can do that, can she not?”

Jewel glared at her father who dipped his head in permission.

So allowed she spoke to the council.

“I can make an attempt to act the lame sparrow and lure out Thurzó’s army. But I am not well versed in the art of it. I worry how convincing I shall be.”

Fiebron chuckled and shook his head.

“I know it hurts the pride of any flier to do less than their best, but simply act worn and tired near to exhaustion and I expect none of the eyes of flier or otherwise in the so-called low king’s army will know the foolery in it. They will have never seen how well you truly soar. And by the time you shall, it will be too late for them to correct. And then they will behold you and be in awe of your valor and fury. Ballads will be sung of you that day, Lady Jewel.”

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Jewel had to focus extra hard to keep her neck from craning back and her wings flaring. That was a mighty complement for a lady only half past her tenth winter.

Father however huffed hard then nodded.

“It will be acceptable that she marches with the third, then? It would be expected for her to be amongst the levy and footmen of Rochford and my captain aground, Bromthil, is familiar with her fighting more than any but myself.”

Baron Kliatbatrn rumbled and mused at the map then nodded and jabbed a finger in the middle of the ridge where they planned to array the army.

“Put the third with my own footmen and levies in the twelfth and the twenty-fourth to either side clear in the center then? They are the heaviest armored in Viznove who don’t ride a charger.”

Fiebron nodded his ascent, letting Kliatbatrn room to continue.

“And then we reinforce them with the Viznove ninth and forty-ninth with my fourth together as archer support? Their bows go longer and the eyes are sharper amongst all the army from what I’ve seen. With Jewel’s own sorcerous escort on defense that will make for a mighty center. If we have Jaksa as well in support, it is liable to surprise any knights who think to break open our middle”

Jewel again tried to fill in her memory with the vision that was going to be there. She would be marching with the army itself, not sailing overhead as she had been.

Amongst friends, with Bromthil and the other footmen and even the levies who all came from Rochford and her own village.

Flanked to her left and right by lines of levy, footmen and eventually even knights for near a half mile to either side.

The strongest peasants that could be spared, armed and armored from not just Rochford but all of Visnove and Zekhedge.

And then interspersed between and also framing the whole of the army in two horns ranks of Knights on chargers (a third of which were bred in the herd of Father’s own demesne!).

Twenty-Four Thousand and some Seven-hundred men (and to her surprise a few women!) all counted as of the last camp.

Seven Wizards.

Thirteen Gryphons and their riders.

One Wyrm.

Against a force that by last word had been gathered by coin and pledge to the assumption of Thurzó as low king under the High King Mathias in the number of Thirty-Thousand to Forty-Thousand men.

It was not as bad as it could be.

But there was an uncertain number of flying beasts and Wizards amongst the more readily gauged force that word and rumor had spread to tell of.

Some of the forage had turned up words spoken by messenger riders for the Realm and travelers passing through that had seen the mustering forces on the march.

They had been gathering at much the same time as Viznove had mustered, for much the same reasons.

The only difference being the number and potentially the stores of food bought or impressed from the countryside to stock their Fortress in preparation for either siege or marching on Kaeketeh itself.

The Generals thought that if Thurzó wanted to march on the Countess’ capital to press the unjust charges against her they would take the reverse of the roads from Rochford and in turn forage from the lands of Viznove and perhaps the southernmost hamlets of Zekhedge in their assault.

To date, no word of other forces being rallied from the farther reaches of the Realm had come. And it was late enough into the last summer season that no further armies would be able to be ready to do anything but fortify at incredible cost over winter either.

Thus at least for this year, the war would be between what had been rallied already and mustered to arms now. And for both sides those armies were here in this valley and if Thurzó cooperated it would be in battle tomorrow.

Jewel stared at her empty dish (an entire cooking pot from the kitchen tents) musing on the enormity of what was going to happen.

It would be war.

Her first war.

And with any luck it would be decided with finality for at least this year in a single battle.

Jewel did not feel ready.