Ben's NaNoWriMo Log

Chapter 25 added Sep 23, 2005
Sarah poked her head out of the small tent she shared with Molly. The camp was set up within sight of Disanne's city wall; the officers and quartermaster had gone into the city itself to secure supplies and conduct whatever other business they had. Molly was sitting just outside the tent, oiling the blade of her rapier. The tents of their regiment were set up in a rough circle around a small campfire. Douglas Carter, a slim man with long brown hair pulled back in a braid, was squatted near the low fire. He scratched at his closely trimmed beard as he kept a close eye on an iron pan of biscuits sitting amid the glowing coals. No one else was in evidence, though Harvey's loud snoring indicated that he, at least, was still in bed. "Morning, Molly, Doug," said Sarah as she stepped out into the dew covered grass. She had become quite comfortable wearing breeches by this point; she shuddered to think how much harder drills would be in a cumbersome skirt. She ambled over to the fire, eyeing the biscuits hungrily. The smell made her stomach growl. "If we weren't on the move all the time, I'd make us some decent beer to go with those biscuits. The Midland stuff we've got tastes like old shoes." "Beggars can't be choosers," said Doug with a laugh. "I didn't know you were a brewer." Sarah nodded as she squatted down in front of the fire. She poked at the coals with a stick, sending a shower of sparks flying into the air like birds. "It seems like a hundred years ago. It's not that hard to do; it just takes some equipment and knowing the right steps." She wondered what her parents had in the barrels. She hadn't thought much about them since leaving home. It wasn't because she didn't love them and miss them; she just hadn't had much time to stop and think about anything. She prayed that they were safe and healthy. Molly checked the edge of her blade with her thumb. Satisfied that it still held its edge, she put it away and came to join the others at the fire. "I hope we get where we're going soon. Drills are fun, but I'd like to see some action before I get too old." Sarah frowned slightly and turned to Doug. "Where are we going, anyway?" He shrugged. "We never know until we get there. The fewer people that know the details of our contract, the less likely we'll run into trouble on the way to the assignment. There's no point getting ambushed by someone you've been hired to fight before you even get your first payment." "That makes sense, I suppose." Sarah didn't feel quite as eager as Molly was about getting herself into a battle. She still had doubts about her fighting ability; it was mostly blind luck that had gotten her through the fights she had been in so far. Even so, if this was the path she was going to take, she had to step onto it to make any progress. They all looked up as Jack Taylor strode into the circle of tents. He wore a broad grin, which Sarah took to mean that perhaps they would be reaching their destination soon after all. "Get up, you miscreants!" he shouted. Harvey's snoring ceased abruptly. The whole of Yellow Squad was soon sharing a quick breakfast before breaking camp. By the time they were on the road, the entire column was buzzing with speculation. They were heading east from Disanne, which meant that they would likely be stopping soon. Only a few dozen leagues separated Disanne from the Wild Lands. Among the various rumors making its way through the company's rank and file was that they would be going up against the Wildermen themselves. Sarah had heard some stories about the roaming barbarians of the grasslands. They were rumored to be the best horsemen in the known world, learning to ride almost before they could walk. The pike block formation the Wolf Pack used was specifically designed to be deadly against a conventional cavalry charge, but the cavalry tactics of the Wildermen would undoubtedly be anything but conventional. The officers of the company neither confirmed nor denied any of the rumor circulating through the troops, keeping their lips tightly sealed on the subject. It came as something of a surprise when the column was called to a halt just two days' march from Disanne, still far from the eastern frontier. The town of Sienda lay in a broad valley whose slopes were thick with grape vines in addition to more conventional other crops. Ever since they started nearing Disanne they had seen more and more vineyards and wineries. The area around Disanne was well known for its fine wines; Sarah had commented that it almost made up for the quality of their beer. They set up camp on the outskirts of the town, which was without a wall of any sort. In addition to the usual tents, the forge and field kitchen were erected at the center of the camp. Most of the wagons were emptied, and they were arranged in a rough circle to serve as a simple corral for the horses that had drawn them. Two of the wagons that had made the entire trip without being uncovered were still full. Sarah asked Jack what was in them. "Ah, those are one of our secret weapons," he said with a smile. "Four dozen Ironhold made crossbows, with an entire wagon load of ammunition." "Crossbows?" Sarah looked around the camp. "Who's going to fire them?" "That's the beauty of the crossbow. It takes hardly any training to shoot one, unlike a longbow. All we have to do is round up some farmers and give them a little practice, then point them in the right direction when the time comes. They're expensive weapons, but not nearly as costly as maintaining a unit of trained archers." Sarah nodded. "So this is where we've been headed all this time? What are we supposed to be doing here?" Jack opened his mouth to reply, but before he was able to say anything his eyes darted off to another part of the camp. "Ah, the Wolf is calling." Sarah followed his gaze to see Ethan standing on one of the empty wagons. The rest of the company was making its way toward him, gathering in front of the wagon to hear what he had to say. Sarah and Jack made their way in that direction, arriving just as the captain began to speak. "As you no doubt have guessed by now, our contract is with the town of Sienda. here is the brief version of the situation here. Sienda has long been within Disanne's sphere of influence, and has prospered under their protection. The city council has decided, however, that the time has come for Sienda to become independent of its great neighbor. They have voiced this desire to the leaders of Disanne, but have been denied. In two days' time, a tax collector will be coming from Disanne to collect the month's tribute. The council plans to send him back empty handed. Naturally, they expect an unfriendly response. Our purpose is to provide an appropriate defense to that response. "Sienda lacks sufficient defenses to withstand a siege, or in fact any direct attack on the town itself. We will intercept whatever force is sent from Disanne before it reaches the town, ideally at the rim of the valley. We must win a decisive victory if we are to be successful. Disanne has great resources, and they will win any drawn-out campaign. Our purpose is to make the price of taking Sienda higher than Disanne is willing to pay. If you have any questions, direct them to your unit commanders. They have been fully briefed on the situation and will relay any pertinent concerns to me." With that, he jumped down from the wagon and went to his tent at the center of the camp. The meeting dissolved into small clumps as each unit converged on its respective lieutenant. Most of Sarah's unit was simply happy to know what was going on. Sarah was still a little in the dark. She asked Jack, "What exactly are we going to be going up against?" "Well, the thing about Midland armies is you never know exactly what you'll get. They usually have small standing armies if they have them at all. Usually it's a militia drawn from the men of the city. Now, that's not to say that they're pushovers; Midland militiamen are trained just as hard as any other army, just not as often. Since they're almost entirely volunteers and generally from the area in dispute, they have amazingly high morale, at least compared to your typical levied soldiers. Because of the terrain, the armies can usually see each other miles away, save for the occasional night attack or woodland battle. They use fairly simple tactics: shield walls, cavalry charges, and archers. The last is really the biggest danger, at least from our perspective. Cavalry isn't much use against a well trained pike block, and once we get moving we can punch through a shield wall without too much trouble. Midland infantry isn't the best, but if their archers get the chance to put enough volleys in you, chances are they'll do a lot of damage. That's why we're hoping to pick our terrain and engage them at the edge of the valley. If we can come over the top of the ridge at them, we'll have less ground to cover before we can start going to work." Sarah nodded, trying to absorb the information as best she could. As she and Molly returned to their tent, another question began to nag at her. She waited until they were inside before she asked it: "Why are we doing this?" She shook her head. "Why am I preparing to kill men I don't even know?" She had fought before to save her own life; this felt different, though in the end the result was the same. Molly nodded, as if she had been waiting for this question. "It's a hard thing to grasp, though in all honesty most soldiers never bother to give it any thought. 'What is the purpose of war?' There's no good answer to that, but I can give you the one that Master Eldridge gave me. When you get down to its essence, any system of government is predicated on the threat of violence. You do what the king says because he controls the army, who can kill you if you defy him. Ideally, differences can be worked out without making good on that threat, but you won't find that ideal place anywhere in this world. In this case, the desires of these two cities have reached an impasse: Sienda wants to be independent, while Disanne wants the revenue that comes from its domination of the region. Neither is willing to give ground, so they have to fight it out. We are simply instruments of governance. We are the iron fist of law when the velvet glove is stripped away. It may not be the most comforting thought, but in the end it's the truth."
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