Reg hadn’t expected to enjoy Tactics with Captain Merrin. Every class so far had been miserable in its own unique way, and Reg assumed that Tactics would find some new suffering to inflict on them all, especially considering how skeptical Captain Merrin seemed to be of non-elves joining the guard in the first place. Captain Merrin glared at everyone, but Reg thought her glare was especially fierce when aimed at the non-elves.
Every recruit piled into the lecture hall right after the morning run and calisthenics, many still sweaty and breathing hard. The lecture hall was built to hold hundreds: row after row of comfortable wooden benches went down to a lectern on a small stage. The tapestries that hung along the sides of the hall depicted old heroes of the Tree, every single one an elf.
Reg grabbed a spot between Jashal and Yeva. Jashal was asleep: he was hunched over with his head in his hands and was breathing long and slow. It looked uncomfortable. Yeva was holding her right hand in front of her and focusing on it. Nothing seemed to be happening. Yeva gave a frustrated snort and lowered her hand before greeting Reg.
Reg caught Yeva’s eye and tilted his head towards Jashal, “I’m surprised he’s out. I slept like a hibernating beetle last night. Miserable as the days are, the guard isn’t skimping on the time for sleep or the food.”
Yeva shrugged, “I feel that. Maybe this is the secret to the long lives of elves: good food, good sleep, and a mad magus tormenting you with the worst fears of your entire life.”
Reg laughed at that. Yesterday’s terror was still fresh, but thinking of it didn’t cause his mind to recoil the way it had yesterday. “Might be.” he said, “Although I wouldn’t mind more goat skewers and less mind-scarring horror.”
Yeva started to respond when the horn that marked the hour sounded. The class quieted immediately: Captain Merrin had already earned a reputation for swiftly punishing inattention with harsh words and painful exercises. Reg surreptitiously shook Jashal awake.
Captain Merrin looked out over the gathered recruits. Strong morning light shone through the high arched windows set high in the back wall and reflected off of the faceted silvery gems set into Captain Merrin’s eyepatch. “Tactics,” Captain Merrin began, “is the study of making good decisions quickly under conditions of uncertainty. Many would say that tactics are the strategies that we take when fighting monstrosities from below. We shall cover those strategies in this class as well, but at their root, tactics are about choosing the right branch to navigate through conflict or choosing a branch that avoids unfavorable combat altogether.
“I worry that experience is the only true instructor for good thinking and that this class will be useless until you eat experience’s bitter fruit. Many of your decisions will lead to the deaths and pains of your brothers and sisters in this room. Mine have.”
Captain Merrin’s voice was sad and slow, and every recruit in the room was leaning forward and listening intently. She sounded like she truly believed that her choices had led to the deaths of others. Reg’s mind went back to the mist storm: how would he feel now if Martha, Barkle, or Ankie hadn’t made it because he’d been too slow to go for the fire to fight the mist twist?
Captain Merrin continued her lecture, “But with dedication in this class, some of you may be able to learn from others’ mistakes and start to develop the warrior’s mind that will serve you well in our battle against the below.
“What is a warrior’s mind? The warrior’s mind recognizes poor decisions and looks for ways to not make those same mistakes again. The warrior looks for reasons that they are wrong because identifying their own mistakes is a gift that saves lives.
“What is the opposite of the warrior’s mind? The child’s mind. The child’s mind looks for excuses about why a decision was the right one and why the world is the wrong. The child looks only for reasons that justify their ideas. The child believes things because they want them to be true.
“Most people think with a child’s mind. The goal of this course shall be to train you to think with a warrior’s mind. The child thinks there might be a monster under their bed so they cower. The warrior thinks there might be a monster under their bed, so they scout it carefully with an eye to retreat.”
There were a few titters in the classroom at the idea of an armored warrior carefully checking under the bed. Captain Merrin nodded at the titters, “I’ve seen a guard use a child’s mind, refusing to send out scouts because she didn’t want to believe that there might be monsters nearby. She huddled under her blankets rather than seeking out the truth and guards died.
“But what is even more foolish than refusing to look for unwanted truths is telling you all to ‘use a warrior’s mind’ and expecting that to have any effect. The mindset must be practiced. In this class, we shall be practicing the warrior’s mind by analyzing after-action reports, applying various thinking trellises to wargame scenarios, and learning the standard tactical ideas that the Achivian Guard uses in combat.”
With that introduction, Captain Merrin then dove into a description of a routine patrol in the mist that had gone wrong eight hundred years ago. The patrol group of ten were surprised by a twist that they drove off -- a three-story tall bipedal monster covered in feathers that exhaled acid -- but in the conflict, two of the guards were severely injured by its breath. Despite guard policy being to have the whole group return, the patrol group decided to separate, sending three hale guards back to the Tree with the two injured and sending the remaining five guards to finish their patrol. The five guards finished their patrol safely, but the five guards sent back to the Tree never arrived. Later divinations were unable to identify precisely what went wrong, but there was limited evidence that they were harried by some sort of fast-moving twist. The group’s small size, lack of maneuverability, and limited ranged options limited their ability to respond to the twist and led to their deaths.
At each point of the report, Captain Merrin stopped to ask questions to the class about what they thought had been going through the patrol group’s minds. Her constant refrain was “Why was what they thought at the time a reasonable interpretation of their available facts?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Why did the group not detect the bipedal beast until they were almost right on it? They were hurrying faster than normal because the patrol schedules were tight. The group was tired and not paying as much attention as normal.
Why were patrol schedules tight? Patrol doctrine and range had been set up over a century ago when the Achivian Guard had been much larger.
Why did the group not flee from the biped to try and find more advantageous ground? It was faster than they were and the group lacked any good options to hobble it.
Why did the group decide to split up? Despite being against official doctrine, patrols regularly did this. This group in particular had successfully split up thirty one times over the past several years to speed up patrols or send injured members back to the Tree. Their vacation time started after the scheduled patrol, so they were anxious to complete the circuit and not cut into their time.
Why did the group returning to the Tree with the injured guards lack effective ranged options? The patrol prioritized sending back people with healing skills to help keep the injured guards stable until they made it back and didn’t consider combat effectiveness.
Captain Merrin then led the class in a discussion of what they think the guard should have done instead. At every point, she pushed for deeper analysis: “Adda, saying ‘they should have been better archers’ is like saying ‘everyone should be able to throw lightning.’ It’d be ideal, but we need to concentrate on policies”; “Fenjor, yes, they should have been able to hobble the beast somehow, but we need to make that trunk-solid. How do you give patrols that ability?”; “Reg, would you follow doctrine when nobody else was? When vacation was calling? When you knew in your bones it was safe?”; “Dun, you’re thinking with a child’s mind: people won’t behave better just because you want them to.”, “Trilla, let’s drive towards the bush’s root: don’t be distracted by its fruit.”... She was unsparing in her critiques, but Reg still found himself wholly engaged in the discussion: it felt like it was opening his mind up to a whole new way of thinking.
With Captain Merrin guiding the discussion, the class came up with a series of reforms that they’d have recommended at the time:
1. Change the vacation policy so that a missed patrol didn’t cut into time away.
2. Reduce the patrol load by restricting the patrolled radius, increasing recruitment, and revisiting patrol frequency. (Reg added “Widen recruitment criteria” and saw a few heads nod throughout the class.)
3. Revisit the patrol frequency and format on a yearly basis.
4. Ensure every patrol group was equipped with ground-thorns: large four-pointed wooden spikes that a patrol could drop on the ground to injure anything that stepped on them. (Captain Merrin pulled one out from behind the lectern to show the class: it was larger than Reg had expected and its druid-sharpened spikes were viciously barbed.)
5. Go through an after-action report after any patrol encountered mist-twists or other dangers on its loop. Don’t wait for disasters like that one to look for opportunities to improve safety.
Looking at the recommendations scrawled in his notes, Reg was surprised to see that none of them were about the decisions that the patrolling group had made. Captain Merrin had pointed out the many incorrect decisions that that patrol group had made, from traveling too quickly, to splitting up, to not ensuring that the returning group had the skills necessary, but she kept stressing that the patrol group’s decisions were natural ones.
Reg was surprised to hear the horn sound for the hour: he had completely lost track of time. Captain Merrin apparently had as well, and let out a soft curse. She looked up at the class with an expression that definitely wasn’t a smile, but wasn’t quite her normal disapproving frown either and said “Adequate work.” She paused for a second before continuing, “And do you know what actually happened?” Her face lost its momentary softness and her voice was almost growling, “It took four more lost patrols before the guard commander at the time changed anything. And do you know what blighted changes that commander made? He started punishing patrols with reduced rest time for not adhering rigorously to official doctrine.” She didn’t seem to care that everyone involved had been dead for centuries. She continued in a calmer tone, “Your work before our next class is to go through the first after-action report in your folio. And no writing on my scrolls: if I find any marginalia in the texts in your folio when you return it, I’ll make sure your flesh bears the same marks.”
After that last threat, Captain Merrin stalked out of class. There was a small break before the next class, The World Below, started. The recruits took the opportunity to stretch and gossip. Reg got up to move around and was swiftly grabbed by Annise and taken over to the side of the classroom.
Her eyes were alight with excitement, and she spoke in a rush, “OK, so I was talking to my cousin and a few other guards and there’s a league here! They don’t play too often, but it sounds like they’re good and they’d let us put together a team of recruits, right?
“And I was thinking, I know you don’t play, but I saw how quick you moved during the trial down in that cavern. You’re fast and your reflexes are whip-quick! With some practice, I bet you could really flourish as a vanguard. It’s all about agility, reflexes, and getting off shots on goal. Feels like a good fit, eh? Plus, I was thinking it’d be good to have plenty of non-elves on the team to show stodgier folks that we’ve got what it takes. What do you think? I know you said you don’t have the cantrips down yet, but a vanguard really doesn’t need much: I’ve seen some vanguards do well with only a mage hand and a shield and I bet Professor Ashsprocket will get you there in no time. So, what do you say? Are you in?”
Reg shook his head, “I wish I could. It sounds fun. But I’ve never even successfully cast a single spell. Not even slowly. I spent yesterday trying to light up a battery in evocation and absolutely nothing happened. Casting a shield at full speed while dodging around on a throwball field? Not happening.” Seeing Annise’s slightly dejected expression, he hastened to add, “But I’ll be there cheering for you all!”
“Really? Not a single one?” Annise sounded slightly shocked. “I’m sure Professor Ashsprocket will help you figure it out: he’s great. Especially if he knows it’s for throwball. And I can help! I’m not giving up on getting you as a vanguard for my team.”
“If I can get those cantrips down, I’d be game,” Reg said slowly, “but don’t count on that happening anytime soon. Who else is going to play?”
Annise shrugged, “I’m not sure yet! I’m trying to get Trilla and Dun. They’re both great, and I’m hoping they’ll know a few more good folks. With them, I think we’ll have a strong trunk, so we just need to fill out with a couple good defenders and attackers. Speaking of, let me go badger Dun again: he’s going to agree to play, I just know it!”
With that declaration, Annise charged across the classroom hailing Dun.
Reg wandered back to his seat and pulled out the folio and grabbed the first after-action report that Captain Merrin had assigned. What would his old teacher Mrs. Moonleaf say if she saw him diving into his work rather than sprinting outside after a class ended? Still, the class had felt like it opened up a whole new way of looking at the world and Reg wanted to take the class seriously. Hopefully The World Below would be just as mind-expanding.