Completed [LP] Bleed for your Kingdom, officer! Codex plays Guns of Infinity

[Grimgravy]

2

 

[Reinhardt]

2. "Tips fedora".

 

[Major_Blackhart]

2

 

[baud]

2

Our men are good, they'll just shoot us in the back. No problem, really.

 

[Kalarion]

2.

 

[Lithium Flower]

"The men are ready, my lady."

Katarina smiles. "I should very much hope so. The task shouldn't present much difficulty at all, if your men are indeed ready."

The Royal Intelligence agent turns to the man next to her. "Master Garing, if you would be so kind as to explain the task at hand?"

Edmund Garing nods to Lady Katarina, then turns to you, his expression excited. "The ship we arrived on was carrying a number of wooden boxes, perhaps you have seen them?"

You nod.

The arms merchant smiles wide, excitement swelling in his voice. "Those crates contain a special delivery: a set of special siege cannon and its ammunition, all designed and manufactured on His Majesty's order at extravagant cost. It is these guns which will breach the walls of Kharangia. You and your men, Captain, are to be the ones to see them to their destination."

"We will be coming along with you, of course," Lady Katarina adds. "Master Garing must observe the effect of the new guns firsthand, after all."

The Duke of Cunaris nods, having, it seems, regained some sense of ease. "It is a simple enough task, I should think, one which you are more than capable of. However, you have questions, I trust?"

"What precisely makes these cannon so special?"

Garing leans forward, opening his mouth in his haste to answer you. Lady Katarina stops him with a subtle look.

"Sir Alaric can be trusted," Cunaris assures her. "You have my word."

The Royal Intelligence agent sighs, hesitates, then nods to the arms merchant.

"These cannon are not normal artillery pieces, not in the least," Garing begins. "Not only are they large-bore pieces capable of throwing shot heavier than any field gun, they also possess a number of innovations, including an initiation mechanism derived from quicksilver and fulmic acid, a substance which we feel has a great deal of potential. In addition…"

The explanation goes on for several minutes, and you understand absolutely none of it. The man is clearly an expert, but his exposition is so laden with the technical jargon of the chemist, the metallurgist, and the machinist that you can neither make heads or tails of it.

"I would hope that serves to answer your question," Garing concludes at long last.

You shake your head. "Not…er…not really."

Garing shakes his head. "Soldiers," he mutters to himself exasperatedly.

Lady Katarina smiles, a bit sourly. "Very good. Now, if we are done divulging state secrets, might we move on to any other matters which remain outstanding?"

"Why exactly must this duty fall to us?"

"You were requested specifically," Lady Katarina answers. "By me, in fact."

Cunaris nods. "That was why you were left behind whilst the rest of the regiment was attached to Havenport's army. Royal Intelligence requested that you be held in reserve for an eventuality such as this," he explains.

How strange…why would Royal Intelligence ask for you and your squadron in particular?

Of course, with Cunaris ordering you to go along, it's not as if you have a choice but to do Royal Intelligence's bidding.

"Why must Kharangia be taken in the first place?"

The Duke of Cunaris leans forward. "One," he extends his index finger, "Kharangia is a heavily fortified city with an excellent natural harbour."

"Two," middle finger, "Kharangia sits beyond the northern edge of the Great Forest. If we take it, we shall have a base of operations allowing us to strike deep into Antar's central plains."

"Three," ring finger, "Kharangia is barely four hundred kilometres south of the League's capital at Octobirit."

"Four," Cunaris closes his hand into a fist. "The Antari know all of this. If Kharangia falls, they will divert their energies to retaking it, allowing the King's portion of the army free reign to do as he pleases further to the east."

You nod appreciatively; the Duke's reasons seem sound enough to you.

"Are we expecting resistance?"

Lady Katarina hesitates a moment before replying. "Yes and no."

"There is only one road wide enough to accommodate the waggons carrying the cannon," Cunaris explains. "Unfortunately, Havenport's army is also using it as their main route of supply. Needless to say, the entire stretch is infested with partisans, some of the boldest we've seen yet."

"We've identified one major band operating in the area," the intelligence agent continues. "Approximately three or four dozen, led by a man who calls himself Strellyk; that's Antari for 'Marksman.' He has made repeated attacks upon our supply waggons, six in the past two months. However, we have no reason to believe the man foolish enough to attack a caravan if it is guarded by two hundred formed cavalry."

You feel your eyebrow rise. "What if he does?"

"If he does," replies Cunaris, "then I shall expect a full squadron of the King's Dragoons to be more than capable of seeing off a force of irregulars a quarter their size."

Of course, rather obvious that.

"Might I ask why exactly you are here, Lady Katarina?"

The Duke shoots you a sharp look, as if you were dipping your toe into waters too dark and too cold for your own good.

Lady Katarina, on the other hand, simply responds with an expression of sheer vapid obliviousness. "Why, the orders of Royal Intelligence, of course."

You nod; a perfectly reasonable and completely evasive reply. It seems that you shall have to press harder to get a real answer out of the woman.

1) "What is Royal Intelligence's place in all this?"
2) "I've no questions. Might I go to brief my men?"

Personal Information

As of the Summer of the 609th year of the Old Imperial Era

Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 940
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%

Charisma: 43%

Intellect: 5%

Reputation: 24%

Health: 65%

Idealism: 77% Cynicism: 23%

Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%

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.

Unit Information

Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes

Discipline: 56%

Morale: 43%

Loyalty: 39%

Strength: 100%

 

[baud]

1

I mean, what are the risks? Getting a slap on the wrist?

 

[Grimgravy]

2

 

[Major_Blackhart]

2. We do not question our orders, only interpret them to keep our men alive long enough to accomplish our goal.

 

[ERYFKRAD]

1

 

[Reinhardt]

2. Option 1 is BOOOOOORING. And we wouldn't understand answer anyway.

 

[Kalarion]

2.

 

[baud]

Guys, where is your curiosity?

 

[Lithium Flower]

Guys, where is your curiosity?

It killed their cats.

HEH

 

[Lithium Flower]

Cunaris turns to the Royal Intelligence agent.

"I shall be expecting you and your men to be at the northern gate by eight o'clock tomorrow," Lady Katarina answers. "I trust you shall be ready by then?"

You nod. Even the most indisciplined squadron could be made ready for departure given nearly a full day's time.

"Very good," Cunaris says. "Then you are all dismissed."

-

It is noon by the time you are able to call your squadron's officers together. In your own quarters, around a bottle of passable claret and a plate of asparagus in oil, you fill them in on your squadron's assignment.

"Are you sure we're ready, sir?" Sandoral essays as he eyes his half-full glass warily. "I fear some of the men might still be shaky."

"Still shaky, eh?" Blaylock growls, his knife and fork dismembering a stalk of asparagus with deft precision. "Give me the day. I'll beat the shakes out of them, by the Saints."

"Surely that won't be necessary, m'dear Blaylock," Lord Renard replies smoothly. "If there ain't to be trouble, then we tell the men so. All we need do is assure them that there ain't nothing to be fright about. That'll smooth 'em."

"What happens then, if there is trouble?" Sandoral replies. "With the forest as thick with life as it is, an enemy force could very well creep right up to the edge of the road, masked from both view and banesense. In such a case, I'd rather have our men alert and nervous than relaxed and off-guard if we ride into an ambush."

Your officers turn to you. Ordering your men to take precautions will likely lower their mood, but if your men are attacked while half-asleep, the results could be disastrous.

1) "Tell the men that they can relax."
2) "Tell the men to maintain some minimal caution."
3) "Order the men to maintain normal readiness."
4) "No half-measures; I want every precaution made."

Personal Information

As of the Summer of the 609th year of the Old Imperial Era

Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 940
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%

Charisma: 43%

Intellect: 5%

Reputation: 24%

Health: 65%

Idealism: 77% Cynicism: 23%

Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%

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.

Unit Information

Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes

Discipline: 56%

Morale: 43%

Loyalty: 39%

Strength: 100%

 

[Grimgravy]

4>3

 

[baud]

3. And let's wear the big armor!

 

[ERYFKRAD]

3

 

[Reinhardt]

4.+

And let's wear the big armor!

This. Failure is not an option.

 

[Kalarion]

3.

 

[baud]

4.+

And let's wear the big armor!

This. Failure is not an option.

On one hand, it would be annoying to wear during a long horseride and make us the target of anyone attcking our group. On the other hand, with this armor we can take it.

 

[Lithium Flower]

"Outriders to the front and rear, along with parties watching the flanks then, sir?" Sandoral asks.

You nod. "I want to be prepared for trouble, Lieutenant."

Your subordinate nods eagerly, ignoring Lord Renard's pointed glare. "Very good, sir."

-

There are only a few more orders of business after that. Then it is time for a bowl of garlic soup and a plate of roast beef, accompanied, of course, by another bottle of claret. After that, the four of you go over a map of your route, making note of alternate routes and possible sources of trouble.

By the time you have finished both meal and meeting, it is after three o'clock, and your officers soon leave for their respective units to ready their men.

In the meantime, you spend the rest of the day getting your own affairs in order. By the time the summer sun finally slips under the horizon, you are already exhausted and climbing into bed.

-

The next day, you find your men assembled in column and ready to depart at Noringia's northern gate.

They are a magnificent sight, their ranks perfectly dressed, their tunics immaculate, the white-and-red plumes of their helmets fluttering in the morning breeze. Each of your men sit perfectly groomed in their saddles, presenting a countenance of martial readiness to all the world.

Truly, your squadron has come a long way since you first took command. Master Garing and Lady Katarina are waiting for you as well, the former in a sober black overcoat, the latter in a finely cut, skirted approximation of a Hussar's tight-fitting jacket, done in iron grey and blood red. Behind them sit a dozen oxcarts, each laden down with an immense wooden crate and guarded by a handful of hard-looking men in grey jackets.

"Your men are ready to depart?" the intelligence officer asks after you exchange the obligatory pleasantries.

You nod. "We are indeed, my lady."

Lady Katarina nods back. "Then let us be off."

With that, you work your way up to the head of your column, where Lieutenant Sandoral awaits.

"Royal Dragoons!" you shout in your familiar tone of command. "Forward at the walk, march!"

Shouted orders fill the air as your lieutenants relay your orders to their own units. Then, slowly, your column lurches into motion, out of Noringia and into the hostile wilds of Antar.

-

The first two days go well. It is easy enough to make good progress in the Antari summer, when the roads have been baked hard by the sun, and your elevated seats keep you well above the dust kicked up by the passage of both horse and cart.

The forest remains quiet, though the precautions which you've ordered your men to maintain keep them on edge. In any case, there is no indication of partisan activity.

On the third day from Noringia, you begin to see rather less encouraging signs: smashed and upturned carts lying on the side of the road, the rotting carcasses of butchered draft animals, trees pockmarked with bullet holes. More than once, you pass trees and stones marked by crude approximations of the Antari double-headed eagle in some kind of white paint.

On the fourth day, you are attacked.

-

It is one of the outriders on the flanks who sees the attack first. He gives a shout of alarm, his arm pointing frantically at dark shapes gathering in the forest; there are perhaps two dozen of them, hidden in the brush, the unmistakeable shapes of muskets in their hands.

Thanks to your preparations, whatever element of surprise the enemy had is now gone. Some of your men reach for their carbines before you even give the order. The distinct cracks of Dragoon carbines echo through the forest as the quickest of your men open up on your would-be ambushers.

The partisans, their attack well and truly foiled, begin to fall back. Some curse and shake their fists at you as they run back into the woods. Others discharge their muskets in your dragoons' general direction, forgetting, in their haste, to aim. Neither has any real effect.

With the enemy on the run, both Staff-sergeant Hernandes and Lieutenant Sandoral turn to you, their expressions expectant.

Will you pursue the enemy, or will you let them go?

"Staff-sergeant, your advice?"

Staff-sergeant Hernandes peers into the forest at the fleeing backs of the Antari and at the dark shadows beyond.

"It suits m-me p-p-poorly to simply allow t-these ruffians to escape unscathed, yet it suits me even worse to order the m-m-men to pursue the foe into uncertain ground," your NCO muses. "P-perhaps a good, strong volley to send them on their way?"

1) "Lieutenant Sandoral! Dismount your troop and run that rabble down!"
2) "Give them a good volley to speed them on their way."
3) "Let them run, they aren't worth the trouble."

Personal Information

As of the Summer of the 609th year of the Old Imperial Era

Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 21
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 940
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%

Charisma: 43%

Intellect: 5%

Reputation: 24%

Health: 65%

Idealism: 77% Cynicism: 23%

Ruthlessness: 31% Mercy: 69%

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.

Unit Information

Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes

Discipline: 56%

Morale: 41%

Loyalty: 39%

Strength: 100%

 

[baud]

2.

We don't want to stop for too long. Or maybe it's a diversion and the real ambush is forming on the other side.

 

[Grimgravy]

2

 

[Major_Blackhart]

4