Young Writers Society

The army’s camp was in the hills to the south of the now carrion-infested ground where the battle had taken place. Around the great fires, soldiers celebrated alongside their officers, rank forgotten amidst this celebration of survival, of victory. Already ballads were being composed of the great exploits, of how Lord Kano had stood alone against an uncounted horde, and emerged alive. Many individuals were said to have excelled in the great battle, but none were lauded more so that Larrel. Lord Larrel’s supposed victory over the mysterious sorcerer had passed through the camp like wildfire, and had only compounded the awe in which he was held by the army over his rescue of Kano.

Larrel was not there to enjoy the festivities. Following the meeting of the captains that followed the enemies rout, he had gone to see his wounded subordinates. Of his seventy man company, twenty had fallen, and another eleven lay beneath the white cloth rooves of the camp’s infirmary. Never before had his command endured such losses, and for a company as rigorously trained as Larrel’s, the losses were catastrophic. The physicians told him that Jordis’s back was broken, and that he and three of Larrel’s other injured were unlikely to survive the trip home. Jordis had been with the company for nearly fifteen years, and some of the men who lay neatly in the rows they had been dragged into had fought beside Larrel for even longer.

As he stood before the tent of the High Command, Larrel counselled himself not to take these woes in with him. Though his losses were heavy on his mind, General Caspar had called him from the infirmary on a matter of the utmost importance, and though Larrel had no idea what it might be, it was his duty to face it in a clear state. He turned to Matthias, who had shadowed him since the battle had ended. “Go and join the others at the festivities, I will call for you if you are needed.”

“Alright Captain, but you should come and join us when you’re finished here. You shouldn’t dwell too long on the bad, when we have accomplished much good this day as well.”

“Hah, giving me advice Matthias? I’ve trained you since you were a boy; I wouldn’t doubt that most of those ideas chasing themselves around in your head were mine to begin with.” Larrel paused before continuing, “But you’re right, I’ll come and join you when this is finished.

Larrel turned from his lieutenant and stepped through the ornately embroidered entrance to the tent.

In the centre of the tent lay a low burning fire, directly below a hole that stopped its smoke from chasing out the tent’s inhabitants. Surrounding the fire were several tables, some stacked with piles of papers containing everything from requisition forms to scout reports. Toward the left wall, a bulky looking interactive map of the battlefield had been constructed, with small statues representing each of the army’s companies. Through it and the high vantage point of the tent, General Caspar had been able to plan strategies and command the entirety of his forces from a suitable position.

Larrel had been under the impression that this would be a private meeting with Caspar, and was surprised to see that the other five Darrodin captains were there as well. Lords Luthas, Domer and Serith, each commander of an infantry battalion, all greeted him stiffly, keeping to formalities or forced congratulation for his performance on the field. Slightly confused by this response, Larrel was heartened when Lord Balian greeted him warmly, clapping him on the back and shaking him with both hands. Like Larrel, Balian was the commander of one of the Vassal horse companies, and the two had served together for decades. Lord Kano, to Larrel’s surprise, greeted him coldly, a mere nod of the head. Of all the lesser lords gathered here, Kano was the most widely respected, the richest, the most powerful and the eldest. Of them all, it was Kano who respected the old traditions the most, and in that vein he had been granted command of the Nethrezim, the company of Darrodin horsemen.

When Larrel entered, General Caspar stood behind a desk to the far side of the room, and once the other lords had greeted him, the General took his turn. “Ah welcome Larrel, we have been awaiting your arrival for some time.”

The general cut an impressive figure in his ornate plate mail. He was easily the eldest Darrodin in the army, but although his hair was snow white in colour, he otherwise looked as young as any of the commanders. The sole exception were his eyes, rich green eyes that seemed to know everything, and yet also seemed to carry a haunted look, as though they had seen too much.

“I am sorry milord, I was tending to my men; the battle has taken many from us.”

“Aye, that is true,” commented Kano darkly, “and that is why we are here.”

“Milord?” though he looked at Kano, Larrel’s question was clearly directed at Caspar.

“There have been questions,” said Caspar, “as to your conduct on today’s field.”

“My lord, I assure you that I did my best to defeat the mage-warrior, and I do not believe my inadequacies as a...”

“Your adequacy as a fighter is not under examination here Larrel, nor would it merit a combined counsel, it is rather your direct disobedience to the orders of the high command that...”

“Sir, I must protest “Balian interjected, “Lord Larrel’s conduct on the field was impeccable. His actions were clearly based on information not available to the High Command.” The Captain crossed his arms as he said this, ready to stand beside his comrade.

“Nevertheless, his actions are still under examination. From battlefield reports,” Caspar indicated a stack of papers, “it can be determined that Larrel chose to engage a company of horsemen, rather than ride to Lord Kano’s aid. As a direct consequence of this choice, Kano’s company was...”

“Annihilated.” Kano seethed.

“Yes, wiped out,” agreed Caspar, though he was clearly irritated that he had been interrupted for the second time.

“My Lords, I assure you all that my actions were in the best interest of a victory for our forces as a whole,” said Larrel. “Had I come immediately to Kano’s defence, I would have been charged in the flank, perhaps even routed.”

“Aye, but your charge would have held of the horde attacking Kano long enough for out battalions to reach the melee,” answered Luthas. Serith nodded at his words, though Domer seemed less convinced.

“And you ignore the importance of those you sacrificed for your greater good Larrel!” exhorted Kano, his fiery hair flying and his temper fraying, “these men were Darrodin, many were nobles, others scholars. No sacrifice on the part of the Vassals would be too much!”

Larrel responded, staring coldly at Kano, “on the field of battle it should not be the race or scholarship of a warrior that determines his odds of survival, but the strength of his arm, and the trust he places in his training.”

Kano looked ready to fire back an angry response, but Caspar interrupted him before he could.

“Lord Larrel, though this shall not be decided until our return, and before a High Council; you are formally charged with disobeying a direct order during a time of war, and of endangering the lives of the nobly born without due cause.”