632 Late Spring -- Sylent's Lambs“...this isn’t what I signed up for,” Reed mumbled to Brim as the sergeants mustered their troops the following morning for the march.
“You mean,” Pint said as he passed by, “you didn’t sign up to be killing other people?”
“Exactl--!” Reed stopped as he saw the look in Pint’s eyes. “Look, regardless of what you think about the... the ‘uru’...” the former farmer stumbled over the term, “even I know perfectly well my fellow humans are people. And now I’ve got to go stick them in the eyes and puncture their lungs??”
“Could be worse,” Pint shrugged. “You could have signed up thinking all you’d do was politically guard Sylent. At least you knew there’d be goblin fighting when Pfeil put out his call.”
“Could be worse,” Brim continued. “You could be slicing open their guts with swords and amputating their various extremities. Seriously, you could soon be doing that. I’ve heard the Captain means to make us into swordsmen soon, for better assaulting cities. That’s what usually wins campaigns, after all.”
“So does staying alive. And soon we’ll be fighting horses,” Fitch observed as he joined the group. “Personally
I’d rather have a good spearwall to be shooting behind.”
“Look,” said Sciff as he passed by, “...what are we talking about?” The others brought him up to speed. “Oh. Dang, son, just ask the Captain to let you stay here with Father Divine and guard the people from orcs! Wow, that was easy. You people talk too much,” he grumbled and moved along.
“Or,” said Father Divine, “man up and go save your home!”
Everyone jumped a little as the lanky white-haired Inquisitor loomed behind them.
“You. Boy,” he pointed. “You come from one of the villages near Sylent, from what I’ve heard.” Reed nodded, too unnerved to speak -- and too ashamed, for he could already see where the priest was going. “Currently, enemies are invading them, and ruining their lives. You joined to help protect your fellow farmers from that, yes? Thank you.” And the Reverend Father bowed. “I truly appreciate what you and your fellow men have done to help us. Even if, by leaving here, the settlement is lost again. But I understand: you have your own home to help. I would come to repay your kindness if I could.”
“Sir,” Reed bowed in return. “I just... it’s just that... it isn’t the same.”
“It is, although you may not see it yet. But you’ll be fighting professional soldiers who knew they risked being wounded or even killed by you when they joined,” the cleric quirked a smile. “Right now, however, they’re fighting your fellow farmers who just want to be left alone to build their lives as well as they can. King Stephan has, in effect, become an orc chief by his actions, and he is dragging his own people down into that mire.
“Go stop him. Your people need you.”
So, Reed went.
And so, several weeks later, he gratefully disembarked again from the coastal trading ships, into the surf of the borderland east of Sylent.
In the intervening weeks, the archers had all upgraded to crossbowmen, adding new levels of armor as well to their brigadine plated leather, and training in the quite different methods of shooting effectively with these triggered weapons.
[Gamenote: in some games, crossbows are correctly portrayed as having a much flatter ballistic arc, without the fine control afforded by bows, meaning they cannot safely shoot over nearby allies; but in this system they shoot just like bows. Ditto for the ballistas and ‘spear hurlers’, come to think of it! The bowmen had already gained a level and I picked a defensive kit for each of them, so these crossbowmen have brigadine armor which otherwise I’m not sure would have been offered!]
Reed’s squad had been similarly upfitted to fight against the expected armored horsemen, being given better halberd-quality spears and requisite armor and training.
Captain Pfeil had even given Reed an officer’s commission to lieutenant, for his skill in managing the rearguard during the previous campaign! -- he was allowed to keep his Burning Sword, and his second squad of halberdiers was given a peculiar relic by Father Divine before leaving Derenhalle: a battered helmet blessed by having been worn by a zealous evangelist in centuries long past, who had taken the faith of St. Marcus into the pagan lands around. The Father said that this would add a little special protection to the troops; though Reed suspected they’d simply fight harder to keep the relic protected. [Gamenote: +1 defense]
“Well,” Brim roared in amazement, “you’ve become quite a little captain in your own right, haven’t you! Two squads of halberds, a bodkin squad for missile support, and the ‘Deathreed’! That isn’t much less than the Captain himself brought to Derenhalle you know!”
“I know, I know,” Reed wilted. “I didn’t ask for this, you know.”
“You’re a veteran now, boy, as much as any of us,” the older sergeant reassured him. “Okay, not so much as some of us. But moreso than some of the sergeants we picked up along the way!”
“Do you still call Captain Derrick ‘boy’?” Reed asked with a touch of a grin.
“No, but he’s our commanding officer. Despite your rank, you’re not! And we do give him sass on occasion. It’s important that officers remember the life of their army depends on their sergeants.”
“May I have your permission, sergeant, to finish gathering my troops?” the captain dryly asked as he walked out of the surf nearby with his steed.
An hour or so later he brought his commanders together along with the fighting men at the little village nearby. Suspicious and frightened fishermen and farming families watched them from windows and out in the fields so that they could flee on a moment.

“Naturally,” he said, “Leranse doesn’t have enough manpower to secure its own borders, bring up a siege to Sylent and seize its bordertowns, and also guard every landing beach of coast behind their lines. So we’re exploiting that.
“From here, we’re going to move up in two largely separate groups, into land previously acceded to Sylant. So we’ll have two thrusts, with two quite different objectives.
“Sergeant Brim: you get to be a lieutenant today, yourself! You’ve been training your swordsmen to strike against forts and cities; now you get to practice what you’ve taught and what they’ve learned.
“The enemy is staging out of D’Quazir Castle. I want you to take Sciff and Fitch, and Reed’s ballista, and Braun’s cavalry,
and Pint’s second scouting squad, and capture that castle. Free the roundabout country from invaders, too.”
“...that sounds like a tall order, Captain.”
“It is. This whole operation is a tall order, but every soldier here will receive double pay for the time.”

“Reed and Pint, and their squads, will join me in the main thrust, once we liberate Manot, up the coastal road, which I doubt will give us any more problem than here: it only has a watchtower not even a wall!
“We’ll be a smaller detachment, but your company Brim will be the feint. An important feint, which is why it will work as a feint! -- but our main goal is to find and sack the supply wagons for the siege farther down the coast. That will draw the knights back to break the siege.”
“And then what??” Pint snorted.
“Before they arrive, we’ll have to find the general for Leranse’s invasion and put him down. They may break the siege once they learn their rear is so threatened anyway, so we’ll have to move fast to get this done before they can return! Twelve days, I judge, that’s all. If we haven’t dominated their supply line and removed their rear-leadership by then, we’ll probably have to retreat. But if we can do it, the shock of our victory will cause them to fall apart and regroup if not surrender outright.
“Step off lively, then, and let’s go to work and earn our pay.”
As expected, Manot turned out to be undefended -- except for a trained eagle flapping languidly above it in the sky!
Upon seeing the approaching column, flying Sylentian colors of blue and silver, the eagle carefully flew over and dropped a notepebble onto the ground nearby.
“Quarrels down,” the captain ordered Reed’s crossbow squad. “That eagle is flying Sylentian colors, too!” The note confirmed this, and suggested from Master Brennock that the captain investigate a holy shrine along the probable path of the supply wagons. The eagle took up position guarding the Sylentian flags below; its handler, with signaling streamers, soon appeared in Manot.
[Gamenote: the ‘handlers’ are a fiction I’ve added for the sake of explaining how orders are given to the flying animals, but they aren’t in the game itself.]
“Look out in the distance,” pointed Captain Pfeil. “You can see the wizard tower over Sylent, if you squint just right!”

“I know, sir; I’ve lived in sight of the tower all my life.”
“True, but that was for the benefit of men from Derenhalle. But what about you? -- did you live near here?”
“Not here, but I’ve visited my aunt and uncle before in... in Valence... heaven save them, is that Valence burning!? It is! It must be!”
“I’m sorry, Reed. If so, Brim and Braun will soon put that to right, and establish a line of advance for taking the fight back to the castle just over the border into Leranse.”
“...if my uncle and aunt are dead, that cannot be put to right.”
“No, Reed. Not by us. But we’ll make sure those looters are punished for what they’ve done.
“Now, let’s go uproot the larger looters threatening the city.”
“The very first regiment wagons are just ahead, sir, down the road,” reported Pint.
“How far?” the Captain asked, and Pint made a sketch based on preliminary report. “Eh. Too far to reach around the back of them today, in case they have archery support. I’ll ride up and take a look. From a safe distance, I promise.”
Soon he confirmed: not only were militia waiting in the wagon ring, but bowmen camped in support upon a hill beyond the camp -- and scouts were hiding in a small copse of trees nearby to shower any attacker with javelins, too!
Pfeil’s raiding detachment moved up for more safely striking at the camp on the morrow -- but the enemy oddly signaled, and the scouts ran out of the woods, down the road, toward Valence!
“Brim must be making a lot of trouble there. What can you see from the hill?” the captain asked that evening as the commanders conferred for the following day.
“Braun has camped in Valence, and retaken it. That’s odd, why would cavalry be used for attacking the village?”
“What are the other dispositions? Ah...,” Derrick said as he checked a map that Reed had scribbed. “I see, Brim probably took the opportunity to weaken the defenders with missiles, while setting up his front of advance toward the castle; then assaulted the village and forced a retreat, whereupon the horses took the town and maybe destroyed the retreating squad out in the open, see?”

“Okay, that makes sense. And the scouts went up to harass the cav.”
“Or possibly the ballista crew! No need for us to help them, though; let’s move on.”
Day two started with a morning ambush by Pint, out of the copse the enemy scouts had formerly occupied, panicking the Larentian bowmen and driving them off their hill.

The eagle picked off the broken archers, providing some scouting information, too.

“We should cross the river here, instead of trying to take those next wagon supplies beyond that bridge! Unfortunately, those militia are going to slow us down considerably today,” the Captain expected.
Pint partially disagreed: “I don’t think we can defeat them today; and the terrain on this side of the river is such that we will need days to move our part of the company across -- after we get these wagons! It would be safe, but not expedient. I think that we would be better off allowing our full missileers to pound the other side of the river and drive open spots for us to cross in attack.”
“I don’t like it but you’re probably right. That being the case, Reed, go help the push toward the castle for now, so that we can free up aid in crossing the river later,” Derrick ordered.
“I can do both: finish off however many scouts escape your charge, and still be ready to help push those militia out tomorrow with my other halberdiers.”
And that’s what they did.

“What about the Deathreed, would you say?” asked the Captain with a testing twinkle in his eye. “Soften the militia in the wagons?”
“...eh, no. There are enemy archers on the hill, more dangerous and more exposed. I’d guess the ballista should thin them out instead?” Reed tentatively suggested.
“Good suggestion. I approve.”

Seeing the flow of the battle changing, Brim sent the 2nd scouting squad to finish dealing with those archers -- mowing them down like grass under hail.

The crossbowmen and cavalry made short work of the remaining enemy scouts, after Brim’s scouts, and Brim himself with his swordsmen, took the forest and hills behind them to cut off most of their likely retreats. The path to the castle lay open now!
Except for the squads besieging it.
“What?” Derrick pulled at his ear when hearing this report in the evening. “That doesn’t make sense. Troops flying Larentian flags are accosting a castle that flies the flag of Leranse -- which ought to be supporting the drive toward Sylent??”
“Not only that, but the besiegers won! -- for now. Militia marched into the castle, according to our scouts; and a bunch of foolish cavalry, and even more foolish peasants, decided to attack my swordsmen in the forest! Not many survived.”

“Sciff and Fitch’s crossbow support helped a lot, to be honest,” Brim gladly acknowledged. “So the enemy sent some bowmen out to shoot over the hill and nick a few of Fitch’s. We’ll get them tomorrow.”
“Hm. Well, we’re only two days into this operation, and we were going to neutralize that castle anyway. Let’s see what happens,” Derrick optimistically said.
The following day, Brim and Braun and the second scouting squad, with some help from Captain Pfeil, mopped up the former siegers of Castle D’Quazir; and the scouts moved round to the forest in its rear, to keep them from deploying any extra troops outside and to see if they could figure out what exactly was going on.
They didn’t have long to wait: messages tied to rocks were thrown from window-slits toward the woods.

Later that afternoon, the militia inside, apparently deciding to try to make a run for it, charged out against Braun’s cavalry. The fight was surprisingly even-sided, since the cavalry couldn’t charge and the militia all had spears.
Meanwhile, the missileers, including the ballista and Pint’s main scouting squad, pummeled the militia in the ad hoc wagon fort. Reed’s halberds pushed them out with two more attacks, finally seizing the siegers’ supplies.

“Well,
that took long enough,” a brightly tasseled woman with several stunning scars complained as she trotted over into the camp and began to wave various streamers and flags in the sky.
“With minimal casualties on our part, so that we can fight again more easily. Against some decent spearmen in a defensive... what are you doing?” Reed brusquely asked. “Who are you again?”
The trained eagle promptly flew over and slaughtered the final militia in the field where they had fled.

“Oh. Never mind. Um... good job?”
“You’ll thank me later,” the trainer said. “Or, more likely you won’t. So never mind, indeed.”
“Okay, well, just to be clear, tomorrow we’re going to start the same thing again, to soften up those troops on the other side of the river. So try to restrain your boredom,” Reed rolled his eyes and walked away.
Day 4 began with Brim and Braun, along with support from the second scouts, eliminating the looting militia.

The scouts took an hour to secure the castle, in the process, and found inside a wounded Baron D’Quazir.
His story soon came out: forced by King Stephan to act as a staging area for the invasion, the duke didn’t actually want to hurt his neighbors with whom he had developed friendly trade over decades. When news of Captain Pfeil’s flanking assault reached him, he publicly rejected and denounced Stephan’s plans, thus acting as a sacrificial distraction while Lerantian troops tried to quell him in his castle. The militia who had taken his castle at last, didn’t understand Pfeil only intended this wing to be a feint, and in the confusion of Pfeil’s speedy advance hadn’t been able to properly report to the invasion’s general across the river at his headquarters, much less receive instructions to stay and hold the castle as a continuing threat until reinforcements could be essayed to rescue them. Or perhaps they didn’t believe the general would even try!
“At any rate, the filthy looters ran for it, and good riddance,” the old man growled. “I know mercenaries prefer to be thanked in gold instead of words; but, sadly, the thieves already ransacked us and sent it on ahead by courier.
“Let me give you instead my youngest and only surviving son, William D’Quazir, who has been training to command a squad of knights. He will serve your captain faithfully, and bring swift vengeance on Stephan for his betrayal of Sylant! They will be ready to operate tomorrow; we didn’t have time to kit them up sufficiently to help defend our castle before. Also, if you would take this chain mail to our fellow knights who helped to rescue our castle?”
[Gamenote: Braun’s landless knights also leveled up, and I chose chain main for +1 defense. But Bill’s knights are feudal, and so are already a full grade better though still level 0.]