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In the Codex, an Elf remains an Elf. Even this setting's Holy Roman KAISERELVEN are nothing more than heathen treebuggerers - something to war against and scoff at, no more.
To some, anyhow. Me personally, I think elves have merits. They fuel pretty good rape fantasies, for one.
4. He is a politician first and foremost, being an envoy. They have more in common with serpents and rodents than humanity of any sort.
As an aside, we are better for it if we ignore the man. He is the representative of an foreign nation. And he's an elf. Friendship with him? He might look at us as some sort of a pet, with his arrogance. Worse, he might attempt to use us for his own benefit.
4. He is a politician first and foremost, being an envoy. They have more in common with serpents and rodents than humanity of any sort.
As an aside, we are better for it if we ignore the man. He is the representative of an foreign nation. And he's an elf. Friendship with him? He might look at us as some sort of a pet, with his arrogance. Worse, he might attempt to use us for his own benefit.
4. He is a politician first and foremost, being an envoy. They have more in common with serpents and rodents than humanity of any sort.
As an aside, we are better for it if we ignore the man. He is the representative of an foreign nation. And he's an elf. Friendship with him? He might look at us as some sort of a pet, with his arrogance. Worse, he might attempt to use us for his own benefit.
Lord Cassius is a pompous fool, nothing less, and certainly nothing more.
Indeed. You can only be grateful that you will only have to suffer the man's casually smug condescension for the course of an evening, which is now almost over. You certainly do not envy the poor fellows who shall have to deal with him on a permanent basis.
He turns to you now, his expression still smiling and earnest. "Well then, it seems a good thing indeed that we have been able to introduce ourselves to each other," he says.
Your eyebrow rises. "Oh? Is it?" you reply, trying not to sound too hostile for civility's sake.
"Why, yes," the Takaran ambassador replies. "After all, it seems that you will be the one commanding my escort."
Your thoughts freeze in mid-stride. "Your escort?" you echo.
The point-eared envoy nods. "Yes, to take me to your King. We shall be seeing a great deal more of each other in the weeks to come."
Well, bugger.
CHAPTER VII Wherein the CAVALRY OFFICER conveys the TAKARAN AMBASSADOR to HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY.
You are given three days to roust your men from their winter quarters. Harness is refurbished, horses are worked up, and your men set upon the process of discarding the trappings of a garrison unit ensconced in a comfortable billet to make themselves ready for action once more. It is a process greatly complicated by the simultaneous arrival of your requested replacements, who introduce their own set of headaches.
Still, somehow, on the fourth morning after the dinner where you so abruptly received news of your assignment, you manage to find yourself leading your squadron and its supply train into the square before Kharangia's northern gate. Lord Cassius is there to greet you, accompanied by another Takaran.
"I trust your soldiers are ready, Captain?" he asks as you ride up to him.
You take one last look over your shoulder at your squadron, assembled and mounted behind you, before answering Lord Cassius's question with a look of confidence.
"I do believe they are as ready as they could possibly be," you reply.
The Takaran nods sagely. "Then I shall defer to your judgement on the matter, Captain," he replies. "I would be a poor judge of such things myself, seeing as Takaran standards are so much different from Tierran ones when it comes to the readiness of fighting soldiers."
Which, you suppose, is the point-eared bastard's way of reminding you just how superior he considers Takaran soldiers to be in relation to their human counterparts.
Indeed, such a comparison cannot help but be highlighted by the ambassador's own appearance as he sits beside you in the exquisitely worked saddle of his white charger. Lord Cassius seems to you, garbed as he is in the dark-blue high-collared undress tunic and round-topped field cap of the Line Infantry, as the very model of a Takaran officer, complete with a matched warsword and bayonet belted to his side.
Likewise, the ambassador's companion—an older fellow who appears to be something in between a valet and a bodyguard—is dressed and armed in the exact same manner.
The two Takarans quickly take their places at the head of the column. You are about to give the order to set off when you hear a familiar voice call out from behind you.
-
"Oh, quite good! We have caught you after all!" exclaims Lady Katarina, sleek in a double-breasted sable riding habit, as she eases her horse up next to yours, trailed by a pair of women whom you assume to be her maids.
"I was detained by some last-minute business," she explains cheerfully. "I was afraid that I would be late, but I see that I have arrived in time, after all."
You had not exactly expected to see Lady Katarina here, but not even your surprise can shock you out of your good manners, not when introductions have yet to be made.
"Lady Katarina," you begin. "I have the pleasure to introduce Lord Cassius vam Holt, the Takaran Ambassador."
The elven diplomat bows low in his saddle. "I sit astonished, my thoughts falling to dust, before such great beauty," he says, silk in his voice and a smile upon his lips.
If the Takaran's words have any effect on the Royal Intelligence operative, she does not show it, turning directly to you. "I must apologise for the inconvenience, of course, but the exigencies of service require us to travel the same path once more."
Your face twists into a mask of confusion. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" you ask.
"It means," she replies sweetly, "that I am coming with you."
-
Thankfully, aside from that first surprise, your first day out from Kharangia passes without major incident. The road which you have been required to travel upon proves broad and relatively smooth, the mud having been dried hard by the full force of the spring sun. Likewise, you travel unmolested by partisans; few dare attack this close to Kharangia's bastions.
The lack of major problems serves as a blessing, for there is no shortage of minor ones. The replacements you received just before your departure are every bit as bad as you had feared. Many prove to be barely capable of staying in the saddle, while others are quickly worn down by the long hours of riding; blisters, saddle-sores, and the half-hundred other problems which inflict themselves upon unseasoned soldiery on their first campaign.
Of course, none of this is your problem. That is what corporals and sergeants are for. Indeed, instead of being inundated by the complaints and sufferings of your new men, you find yourself growing increasingly bored by the long ride.
Perhaps it would be best to find some productive way to spend time in the days ahead? 1) My time would be best served speaking with Lord Cassius. 2) I would like to spend my time getting to know Lady Katarina better. 3) I shall continue to ride with my officers and men.
As of the Spring of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 43%
Loyalty: 31%
Strength: 100%
IAGO D'AL BLAYLOCK
(Born 588 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Noted duellist. Baneblood.
GLEN D'AL BUTLER
(Born 594 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon Regiment. Baneblood.
LOUIS D'AL ENGLESSEY, EARL OF CASTERMAINE
(Born 558 OIE) General-of-brigade in the Tierran army. Commands an infantry brigade in the King's Army. Baneblood.
SIR CAIUS D'AL CAZAROSTA
(Born 585 OIE) Lieutenant in the King's Army. Commander of Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons. Knight-Companion of the Order of Saint Joshua. Illegitimate son of the Countess of Leoniscourt. Deathborn.
SIR JOHANNES D'AL FINDLAY, DUKE OF CUNARIS
(Born 556 OIE) Colonel-in-chief of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Knight-Grandmaster of the Order of Saint Jerome. A sitting member of the Cortes and head of the noble house of Findlay.Commander of the cavalry brigade in the King's Army. Lost the use of his legs at Blogia. Married with three children. Banecaster of the eighth calibre.
ULRIKE ECKHARTS
(Born 458 OIE) An Intendant of the Takaran Empire, assigned as an observer to the Duke of Wulfram's army prior to the Battle of Blogia.
LORD DAVIS D'AL ELSON
(584-607? OIE) Captain of the Royal Dragoon regiment, eldest son of the Baron of Hawthorne, a poor but politically influential Cortes noble. Former commanding officer of Third Squadron, Royal Dragoons. Missing and presumed dead after the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the third calibre.
LORD RENARD D'AL FINDLAY
(Born 594 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon regiment, eldest son and heir of the Duke of Cunaris. Baneblood.
EDMUND GARING
(Born 575 OIE) Master gunsmith and junior partner in the Aetorian firm of Garing, Gutierrez, and Truscott. Baneless.
WINTHROP D'AL HARTIGAN, VISCOUNT OF HUGH
(Born 580 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the 5th Regiment of Foot. Related by marriage to the Elsons of Hawthorne. Banecaster of the second calibre.
ARTHUR D'AL HAVENPORT, DUKE OF HAVENPORT
(Born 573 OIE) Lieutenant-general of the Tierran army. Succeeded the Duke of Wulfram as Councilor-Militant and Lieutenant-general. Baneblood.
LORD MARCUS D'AL HAVENPORT
(Born 588 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Kentauri Highland regiment. Younger brother of the Duke of Havenport. Baneblood.
LORD CASSIUS VAM HOLT
(Born 527 OIE) Takaran ambassador to the court of King Miguel of Tierra. Eldest son and heir of Richsgraav Maximilian vam Holt.
MAXIMILIAN, RICHSGRAAV VAM HOLT
(Born 399 OIE) Senior member of the Takaran Richsenaat. Secretary for the Ministry of Barbarian Affairs. Close personal friend of Aldkizern Reskin vam Paulus ai Takara. Former Colonel-in-chief of the Takaran Imperial Life Guards. Father of Lord Cassius vam Holt.
LORD ROLAND D'AL KEANE
(Born 571 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Baneblood.
PRINCE BOLESLAW OF KHARANGIA
(Born 533 OIE) Antari lord of Kharangia. Allied with Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit. Banecaster of the second calibre.
PRINCE MIKHAIL OF KHOROBIRIT
(Born 573 OIE) A powerful Antari nobleman and the League of Antar's greatest general. Defeated the Tierran army decisively at Blogia in 607 OIE. Baneblood.
LORD KAROL OF LOCH
(Born 569 OIE) An Antari Church Hussar sworn to the service of Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit. Baneblood.
ROBERT MARION
(Born 581 OIE) Corporal in the Royal Dragoons, bat-man to Captain Alaric d'al Ortiga. Baneless.
HARLANDO D'AL MARRAS, BARON OF MARRAS
(576-607? OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Dragoons, formerly second in command of the Regiment. Missing and presumed dead after the Battle of Blogia. Baneblood.
HIS TIERRAN MAJESTY, KING MIGUEL OF HOUSE RENDOWER
(Born 586 OIE) Reigning monarch of the Unified Kingdom of Tierra, as well as Duke of Aetoria. Young and impetuous, but capable. Baneblood.
ALEJANDRO D'AL NEILLE
(Born 580 OIE) Major of the Kentauri Highlanders. Baneblood.
HELENA VIZTELAS
(Born 471 OIE) Captain of the Takaran Imperial Guard. Military attache to Intendant Eckharts.
JAMES D'AL SANDORAL
(Born 592 OIE) Lieutenant of the Royal Dragoon regiment. Baneblood.
"STRELLYK"
(Born ???) Antari freeholder turned partisan. Commands a small group of irregulars raiding the Tierran-controlled stretches of the Imperial Highway. Baneless.
SIR ENRIQUE D'AL HUNTER, VISCOUNT OF WOLFSWOOD
(577-607 OIE) Lieutenant-colonel of the Grenadiers. Knight-Captain of the Order of Saint Jerome. Former commanding officer of 2nd Battalion, Grenadier Guards. Killed at the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the ninth calibre.
HECTOR D'AL CANDLESS, DUKE OF WULFRAM
(542-607 OIE) Formerly commanding officer of the King's Army in Antar and Duke of the northern duchy of Wulfram. Killed at the Battle of Blogia. Banecaster of the sixth calibre.
EARLY SPRING, 610:
Reports indicate that Prince Khorobirit's army is once again on the move, this time towards Havenport's division and Kharangia.
AUTUMN, 609:
Lurid accounts of the sack of Kharangia shock the courts of the Infinite Sea. In Varsovia, the Takaran Richsenaat once again votes to send an observer to the Tierran Army in Antar; this time, a full ambassador.
LATE SUMMER, 609:
A comprehensive report on the Battle of Blogia is published for general circulation. The competence and ability of the late Duke of Wulfram becomes a matter of fierce public debate in Tierra. With the Crown now nearly 40 million crown in debt and no end in sight, criticism quickly spreads from the Duke of Wulfram's conduct to that of the entire army.
Assisted by a battery of experimental siege guns, Kharangia's walls are breached. The city is taken by storm.
SUMMER, 609:
The Duke of Havenport's army begins to lay siege to Kharangia. Initial progress is slow, with Havenport's artillery proving inadequate for the task of breaching Kharangia's walls.
The King's division takes the town of Solokovil on the northern edge of the Great Forest, facing Khorobirit's army.
SPRING, 609:
The army in Antar splits into two divisions. The King's division, consisting of 12 000 men, is to head north, while the Duke of Havenport's division of 11 000 men is to advance west and take the fortified Antari port city of Kharangia.
Two regiments of line infantry, three companies of engineers, and the Experimental Corps are dispatched from the Duke of Havenport's division to reinforce Fort Kharan, an extant outpost at the northern crossing over the River Kharan.
Prince Khorobirit moves his army to the town of Mhillanovil in preparation for the year's campaigning.
WINTER, 609:
The Earl of Weathern is able to assemble a temporary coalition between the various factions of the Cortes for the duration of the war. Rumours abound that both Lord Barithorne, the head of Royal Intelligence in Aetoria, and the Queen-Dowager Gwyneth d'al Havenport were heavily involved in negotiations.
Major Victor d'al Reyes of the 8th Regiment of Foot submits a proposal for the creation of a small force of foot skirmishers armed with rifled muskets. The King responds positively to the proposal and orders the creation of a temporary Experimental Corps of two hundred men, under Major Reyes's command.
SUMMER, 608:
Still mourning the death of his father, Ewen d'al Candless, the new Duke of Wulfram makes his first appearance in the Tierran Cortes. The young Duke aligns himself with the peace faction, throwing the precarious balance of power into disarray.
A board of inquiry is commissioned by Grenadier Square for the purpose of investigating the events of the defeat at Blogia.
AUTUMN, 607:
With the onset of the autumn rains, Prince Khorobirit retreats to winter quarters near the fortress of Januszkovil, on the southern edge of Antar's southern plains.
King Miguel orders the temporary reinforcement of line infantry regiments serving in Antar with men from marine complements serving on-board the ships of the Royal Tierran Navy. The move proves deeply unpopular with the Tierran Admiralty, but it serves to help replenish the Army's depleted ranks with hardened veterans.
Faced with the spectre of food riots an order of magnitude more severe than those of the year before, the Cortes, led by the Earl of Weathern, implements a grain subsidy. With Tierra starved of Antari grain by the war, Tierrans must now buy their grain from Kian merchants, who do not hesitate to raise prices to meet increased demand.
SUMMER, 607:
The Duke of Havenport is officially appointed Lieutenant-general and Councillor-Militant, to replace the late Duke of Wulfram.
Prince Khorobirit begins to send raiding parties south to probe Tierran defences. Anxious to avoid making plain the weakness of his position, the Duke of Havenport orders the Tierran cavalry, under the command of the Duke of Cunaris, to intercept these raids with utmost vigour.
LATE SPRING, 607:
Leading the bulk of Tierran forces in Antar, the Duke of Wulfram fights a larger Antari army led by Prince Mikhail of Khorobirit in a set-piece battle north of the town of Blogia. The Antari score a decisive victory, killing the Duke of Wulfram, many of his senior staff, and nearly three thousand Tierran soldiers.
The battered remnants of the Duke of Wulfram's army retreats to Noringia. King Miguel of Tierra arrives in Antar to take personal command, leaving the Earl of Weathern to lead the government in his stead.
Starved of supplies and reinforcements by the machinations of his rivals within the League Congress, Prince Khorobirit is forced to halt his advance on Noringia.
For the purposes of replacing the men lost at Blogia, the King orders the beginning of limited conscription. Vagabonds, debtors, and the unemployed are now liable to be forced into the army by recruiting agents in Tierra, to be sent to Antar.
3. Lady Katarina deals with intrigues of the court, nothing more. Let her and the fop converse together, for they are well versed in languages involving forked tongues, I should think.
You cannot, of course, actually chat with your subordinates. A Tierran officer must observe some level of decorum—boundaries which must be observed—and to converse casually with junior officers, or worse, common soldiers, whilst in the open for all to see is much akin to riding across that boundary at full gallop.
This does not, of course, mean that you cannot listen in on your men as they speak with each other, or watch their moods as they ride in column.
It is through such close observation that you first notice Hernandes hunched over in the saddle at brief but persistent intervals, scribbling something down in a bound notebook.
"Staff, what are you writing?" you finally ask one day when your curiosity gets the better of you.
You have little doubt that the Corporal Leonard Hernandes you first met all those years ago would have panicked at such a sudden query. Yet now, Staff-sergeant Hernandes simply keeps writing, his nerves made stiff by the salt of experience. "I am writing a b-book, sir," he answers calmly as his pencil continues to scribble line after line, "on the p-principles of leadership."
"Leadership?" you reply questioningly, the tone of your voice telling all: Hernandes is not a King's Officer, what might he know about leadership?
Your Staff-sergeant looks up from his pencil and nods. "Yes, sir. It shall b-be a g-guide to l-leadership for sergeants; there is a severe want of such a v-volume," he declares. "Most sergeants are g-g-given their stripes without knowing how t-to act b-before their m-men. I certainly did n-not. The l-lessons I have l-learned since, I hope to pass on to those who come after me."
You nod approvingly. That makes rather a great deal of sense, you think. In some ways, a fresh sergeant is almost as unprepared for his new rank as a newly commissioned cornet. Surely any sort of literature by an experienced non-commissioned officer might make the task an easier one. "Very good; carry on."
Hernandes wedges his pencil behind his ear and offers you a salute. "Thank you, sir. I mean to, sir."
Then he is back to writing.
-
The next few days see you press slowly but steadily northwards. Weighed down as you are by the dozens of mules carrying your squadron's supplies, you barely make thirty kilometres a day, if that. Before long, though, your column moves out of the flat coastal basin around Kharangia and into more hilly ground. Here and there, you find the road eroded by small tributaries, rivulets of water cutting across the ancient roadway along impromptu riverbeds worn by centuries of snowmelt, to flow into the swollen body of the River Kharan.
It is just as the rear of your column crosses one of these small and temporary streams that you hear a sudden and entirely familiar sound echo from beyond the bend in the road ahead: the staccato crack of volley fire.
-
You spur Thunderer into a trot and beckon for the rest of your column to follow. Your horses' hooves pound rapid drumrolls against the packed earth as the distant musketry grows in both volume and intensity.
You lead your men around the bend, one hand gripped white-knuckled around your sabre…
…only to find the battle already over.
Before you sits a wide field, easily four or five hundred paces across. At your end, near the side of the road, stands the source of the gunfire, a cluster of men wreathed in the white haze of powder-smoke. They are uniformed, not in the burnt orange of the Tierran Line Infantry but in tunics and trousers of deep forest green trimmed in black. In their hands they hold not infantry muskets but slim hunting rifles.
There are perhaps two dozen of them left standing. Around them, you count half a dozen more, dressed in the same uniforms, dead or wounded.
Regardless of their losses, it seems that the strange riflemen have prevailed, for at the far end of the clearing, a force of Antari on horseback flee into the brush, leaving the open ground behind them strewn with their own dead.
One of the green-jacketed men sees you. There is an alarmed shout, and some of the rifles snap away from the fleeing Antari and towards you. One of them, their leader you presume, shouts something. The rifles point away, and the small group begins to move towards you, looking more like uniformed poachers than any formed body of men.
Their leader steps forward. He is a big, lean man, his face raked with roguish scars, his features seeming as if they had been rough-hewn from a block of some heavy wood. His long, dark hair falls lank over his face as he looks you straight in the eyes.
"Alright," he says in a thick Wulframite accent, his voice as rough and belligerent as a half-drunk yeoman. "Who the bloody Martyr are you?"
1) "I might ask you that same question." 2) "Captain Alaric d'al Ortiga, Royal Dragoons. At your service, sir." 3) "I am Captain Alaric d'al Ortiga of the Royal Dragoons, who the bloody Martyr are you?
As of the Spring of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era
"I am Captain Alaric d'al Ortiga of the Royal Dragoons, who the bloody Martyr are you?"
The other man replies with a coarse, rumbling chuckle and a salute.
"Lieutenant Cedric Lewes, sir, Experimental Corps," he replies, "and if you're dragoons, then my lads and I need your help."
Lewes tilts his head in the direction of the far side of the clearing, where the last of the Antari cavalry are continuing to make their escape. "Like as not those buggers will be back soon. I'd rather they run themselves into two hundred men than twenty."
"Ain't seem like they're going to be heading back anytime today," Lord Renard observes as he watches the enemy flee. "Look like the curs are running tails 'twixt legs from here." He turns to the green-jacketed officer suspiciously. "How're you so sure they'll be back?"
"Because, ye daft idiot, they've got no choice!" Lewes growls back.
Your Lieutenant winces at the other officer's harsh tone. "Sharpish fellow, ain't he?" he mutters in your ear.
"Those men belong to Khorobirit's army," Lewes continues. "They're mounted scouts, riding ahead to secure a route for their infantry and their guns. That means they're about to cut off Fort Kharan and march on Kharangia with nobody the wiser." Lewes scowls. "Except now we've seen 'em, and they know that they need to kill us or Khorobirit loses the element of surprise."
You nod, accepting the sheer enormity of what Lewes has told you. All that stands between Prince Khorobirit and total operational surprise is this scruffy officer, who is clearly not quite a gentleman, and his two dozen beleaguered men….
Or is it?
It does not take a genius to realise the fact that you could simply leave Lewes and his men to their fate and warn Fort Kharan yourself. After all, your primary objective is to deliver Lord Cassius and Lady Katarina safely to their destination, an objective which taking unnecessary risks would only make more difficult to achieve. Surely, such a mission could be argued to be more important than the lives of a few common soldiers.
"Are you not capable of holding out by yourselves?"
"With two dozen of the best infantry in the King's Army? I could hold out all bloody day," Lewes scoffs.
Then the other man frowns. "It wouldn't be easy though, or cheap." He looks over at the handful of green-jacketed corpses which mark the bloody patch of ground where the Experimentals had stood their ground. "They've already bled us some, and when they come back, they'll bleed us more."
He turns back to you, not with a look of sadness or despair but with the pained, blunt look of a workman faced with a fresh load of stones or a surgeon about to cut someone's leg off. "Aye, we'll hold out, but I'll lose half my men doing it if we go at it alone. Rifles can kill a man from a distance, but we don't have enough of them to keep them from getting close."
Lewes looks at you, past you, to the ranks of mounted soldiery assembled behind you. "With your dragoons, we'd have enough guns to keep the enemy at a distance, shoot them down before they could close, pick them off until they lose their belly for fighting."
You nod. The Experimental Corps officer has a point; staying to help would make things safer, for him and his men at least.
You, on the other hand, would be risking your men and your mission. You do not know if your dragoons' carbines and the Experimentals' rifles will keep the enemy at bay as Lewes claims. The Antari might return with greater reinforcements or firelocks of their own.
You do not consider yourself a callous man, but even you must admit that the lives of a handful of infantry seem to pale in comparison to the importance of your own mission.
"You are sure retreat is not an option?"
"You mean run?" Lewes scoffs. "We couldn't outrun cavalry on a good day. After a day's fighting, and with men wounded? Well, we certainly couldn't bloody well do it now, could we?"
"You could melt into the trees," you suggest, inclining your head at the edge of the great forest not a few hundred paces away. "Men on horseback wouldn't be able to follow you in there."
The green-jacketed Lieutenant shakes his head. "Forests are full of partisans, and it'll be bloody murder trying to pick my way through that undergrowth. It'd take us a week to get back to Fort Kharan. By then, half my wounded would be dead and any warning we'd give would be too late."
Lewes's jaw sets, his eyes narrow, and his expression takes on the countenance of a man set in his opinion like a garrison behind the walls of a fortress. "No, we must stand, and we must fight, with or without you."
"I notice a distinctive lack of a "d'al" in your name, sir."
Lewes replies with a coarse bark of a laugh. "Ain't got one, sir, never had one."
You close your eyes for a moment, focusing your banesense as deeply as you can on the man before you. It only takes a moment of concentration to confirm it. Lieutenant Cedric Lewes is baneless.
It seems you are not the only one who's noticed.
"A commoner carryin' an officer's commission in His Majesty's army?" Lord Renard exclaims incredulously. "Ain't there rules against that sort of thing?"
Lewes nods. "Aye, there are," he replies, the bitterness plain on his face, "but the Experimental Corps needs all the officers it can get. Of course, proper officers—" He twists the last two words as if they were an insult. "—wouldn't be caught dead in an outfit like this." With a wave of his hand, he encompasses not just you but your three lieutenants behind you. "Proper officers, they want loot to buy their way up, and the sort of glory that gets them knighthoods, and fame, and the gratitude of kings," he says, looking you straight in the eye.
"Aye, that's what you are, a proper officer, looking for the things that proper officers want, and you'll find none of that hunting partisans through a forest at the head of three dozen ex-poachers and broken men." He shakes his head. "Naw, this ain't work fit for proper officers, so they came to me, and asked if Sergeant-major Cedric Lewes would like to be a brevet lieutenant 'for as long as His Majesty's government requires.'" He laughs again, sour and bitter. "And bein' a bloody fool, I said yes."
So, Lewes holds a brevet rank; he might call himself an officer, and he might wear an officer's rank, but he certainly holds no permanent commission within the King's Army. You suppose that when the Experimentals are disbanded, he will revert to his regular non-commissioned rank.
1) A pity; the army could use officers like Lewes, common or not. 2) Good; men like Lewes might serve as a stopgap, but no more. 3) Even giving a commoner a brevet officer's rank goes too far.
As of the Spring of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era
1. There is no point for commoners to even enlist in royal army if they can't ever get promotion.
Maybe crown should offer to pay for first patents for few really promising sergeants.
