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

[Lithium Flower]

It is something of a shock to realise that your lieutenants have all acquired enough seniority to purchase a captain's commission. Even though all three of them seem so young and inexperienced in your eyes, you know that each has seen more battle than you had when you had been given your captaincy.

Still, you have grown close enough to some of your subordinate officers to know the gaps in their experience, the over-relied upon strengths turned into liabilities, the shortcomings in their still-fledgling skills. Surely you would not be remiss in taking advantage of the time you have been given to offer them some assistance.

1) I coach Sandoral on the rougher aspects of command.
2) On second thought, my time is better spent elsewhere.

 

[baud]

1

 

[Lithium Flower]

Actually, not going to waste time - I am getting the idea you guys want to improve lieutenants so we gonna improve the one lieutenant we can m'kay.

I coach Sandoral on the rougher aspects of command.

The problem with Sandoral is that while his men are rather fond of their bookish commander and certainly respect his opinion on matters of intellect, they do not fear him, a rather glaring shortcoming in a man who must be expected to keep order within his command through his mere presence.

You quickly learn the reason why: in his years as troop commander, he has not ordered a single disciplinary action; not expulsion from the ranks, not stoppage of pay, not even latrine duty. It is almost as if he is afraid to offend his own dragoons.

For the next few months, you attach yourself closely to Sandoral's troop and take an interest in putting more backbone into his style of leadership.

It is not easy going; your subordinate seems to oppose with the greatest stridency any action which stinks to him of even the faintest whiff of cruelty. All you can do is to convince him to at least delegate the duty of answering breaches of discipline to his sergeants.

As autumn passes into winter and rain turns to snow, the results of even this minor decision begin to make themselves manifest. Given free rein to deliver their own judgements, Sandoral's NCOs quickly instil a healthy deference into the rankers of his command.

It is not quite a permanent solution. No officer can rely upon his sergeants forever; but before you can proceed further, you are pulled away by a rather more pressing matter.

-

It first comes to your attention on the morning of the first Monday of OIE 611. As with the first Monday of every month spent in garrison, you call out the entire strength of your squadron so that they may be paraded and inspected in the open. When the five troops under your command file into the square you were allowed for the purpose of your review, you note that your force seems rather smaller than it should be.

At first, you think it a trick of the winter; the day is a cold and blustery one, and the snow makes it difficult to see. However, when Hernandes takes roll call, your suspicions are confirmed: nearly a third of the men who should be present are missing.

"Corporal, it seems to me that a great number of my men are missing," you remark neutrally to Marion as your Staff-sergeant finishes working down the roster. "Might you have some idea as to why?"

"They're probably ill, sir." Marion replies. "Frostbite, the shivers, putrid extremities; exactly what you might expect, given the extreme circumstances."

"Circumstances?" you ask. "What circumstances?"

"Firewood rations for enlisted men were halved last week, sir," your bat-man reports. "No change to officer allocations, of course, which is likely why you have not noticed."

No wonder so many of your men are sick. While half-rations of fuel would keep your men from freezing to death in their own barracks, it would make them much more susceptible to winter illnesses, the sort of illnesses that make men lose fingers and limbs, and the sort which can reduce even the healthiest and best-prepared unit into a gaggle of amputees and invalids.

Bloody Martyr.

-

"I do not see how this is a concern," Sandoral remarks when you call him and your other officers to an emergency staff meeting and explain the problem. "Could we not simply gather some hatchets and allow the men to cut their own firewood from the trees outside of town?"

"Have you even been outside of town these past three months?" Blaylock replies incredulously. "The infantry cut down all the bloody trees. There's barely enough wood left standing out there to light a candle, let alone a stove."

Sandoral scratches his head in confusion. "Trees do not vanish into thin air simply because they have been cut down. The timber must have gone somewhere."

"It's still here in Mhillanovil," Lord Renard says. "I know a fellow on Castermaine's staff, betrothed to me cousin he is. The wood's all cut and stacked and seasoned in a set of guarded warehouses by the river, says he."

Blaylock leans in expectantly. "This fellow of yours…I don't suppose he'd be willing to give us some of that lumber for firewood, would he?"

The young lordling shakes his head. "The wood's reserved for a higher purpose, says he, ain't even Castermaine knows what. I ain't much chance of convincing him."

"Saints be damned," Blaylock growls. "I bet if the Colonel were here, he'd be able to talk some sense into the fellow."

Lord Renard nods in agreement. "I wish he were, most likely more than you do; but he ain't."

Unfortunately, your subordinate's wish shows no indication of coming true. You shall have to find some other way to get firewood for your men.

1) "If we cannot obtain fuel without compromising our honour, then our men must endure."
2) "Surely, there must be fuel for purchase somewhere."
"Introduce me to this fellow, Lieutenant. I might be able to talk him around.

Personal Information

As of the Winter of the 611th year of the Old Imperial Era.

Age: 23
Rank: Captain

Wealth: 453
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 21%
Health: 65%

Idealism: 65%; Cynicism: 35%
Ruthlessness: 39%; Mercy: 61%

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: 39%
Morale: 38%
Loyalty: 41%
Strength: 82%

 

[Major_Blackhart]

2.

 

[Grimgravy]

2

 

[ERYFKRAD]

2

 

[Reinhardt]

2. Time for a little night expropriation.

 

[baud]

2.

Perhaps the idea of selling officer commisions is to make sure that the officers are wealthy enough to buy supplies to compensate for the shortcoming of the supply lines?

 

[Lithium Flower]

"Probably," Blaylock replies, "and it'll cost more than a common dragoon gets paid in a month."

You nod. "Probably, but cost is not your concern." You crack a much-needed smile. "I would not be very much of a commanding officer if I could not pay to keep my own men warm. Find me a source of firewood, gentlemen. I'll see to payment."

Blaylock was not far off the mark. There is firewood for sale in Mhillanovil—or rather, there are tables, chairs, doors, and cabinets—and their owners charge extortionate prices for them. Still, you must do what you can to see to the welfare of your command, and you pay out the cost gladly.

To say that your men are thankful would be an understatement. The fuel you secure them is not quite enough to bring them up to their full ration, but it is sufficient to keep them warm and dry through the winter. They show their appreciation in small ways: quicker salutes, friendlier faces, and once, a dragoon gesturing to you for the benefit of an infantryman with the distinct motions which could only be accompanied by the words 'that's him: our fellow.'

Even so, the winter is hard. Men still fall sick, though none die, and many of your dragoons show up to inspections coughing and shivering. It is a relief when the first signs of the spring thaw come. At last, it is almost over.

And at last, you see the reason for which the King had been compelled to allow his own army to freeze through the winter.

-

Barges.

You begin seeing them take shape on the riverside even before the banks of the Kharan are free of winter ice. Once again, it is the men of the infantry made to do the heavy lifting. They work in teams, assembling each section before fitting them together into the sort of shallow-hulled, flat-bottomed watercraft so common on Tierran rivers, yet all but unknown in Antar.

Construction proceeds at a rapid pace. Within a week of the first frame being laid, the first set of hulls are already being caulked.

By then, there are dozens of them, each fit to carry a hundred infantrymen, if not more; enough to carry every Tierran in Mhillanovil, if needed.

Perhaps that is what the King plans.

It is on the day that the first barges are launched into the Kharan that you find out for sure.

-

That afternoon, Marion hands you a set of sealed orders from the King's staff.

Your squadron has been ordered to make themselves ready for action; all extraneous trappings and accoutrements are to be discarded, and all weapons and uniforms are to be inspected. Your dragoons, in particular, are to see their horses are properly prepared for shipment by boat.

To you, it seems as if the final day of reckoning is soon to be at hand.

The only question is…when?

-

For the next few days, Mhillanovil is in a state of constant activity as the King's division prepares itself for yet another year of campaigning. The squares are filled with companies of foot and troops of cavalry doing final inspections. The streets are crammed with carts piled high with ammunition crates, bags of hardtack, and beef rations. The little snow that remains on the ground is trampled into brown slush by the passing thousands of boots.

By the end of the week, all is in readiness; the last inspections made, the last too-heavy bit of loot disposed of, the last flint fitted, and the last sabre sharpened. Even the camp followers and soldiers' wives have been made ready for travel. The King's division is prepared down to the last gaiter-button.

Still, the barges remain moored along the riverbank, only a few loaded and only with the heaviest cargoes: cannon and furniture.

As for the rest, they sit empty, riding easily along the shallow banks of the Kharan, waiting for something.

Three days later, you see what.

-

It first comes an hour after dawn as a vast, gurgling wave: a surge of cold, newly melted water cascading down the course of the river like a stampede of wild horses.

Though the winter snow in the lower parts of Southern Antar melted away days ago, it is only now that the vast snowbanks of the foothills upstream have finally succumbed to the coming warmth of spring. It is the melt from these hills that now transforms the Kharan from a shallow and rapids-constricted river to an immense waterway. By sunset, the river has risen by half the height of a man. The docks are almost swamped.

That night, the King's division is finally ordered to board the barges. By late morning the next day, there are no more men or supplies left on the docks. The whole of the King's forces are aboard the vast riverine armada, save a squadron of Lancers and the King's own First Battalion, Grenadier Guards, who you must assume are remaining to hold the city.

At one o'clock in the afternoon, the orders are finally given to cast off. Like leaves in a stream, the swollen current carries you and your dragoons south, towards Havenport, towards Kharangia.

Towards Prince Khorobirit.

CHAPTER IX
Wherein the CAVALRY OFFICER is made aware of several MOMENTOUS developments.​

​

The warm spring breeze plucks at your coat as the barges carrying your squadron edge towards the near bank of the River Kharan. Around you, your men stamp their feet anxiously, and you do not blame them; after four days of being trapped on the uncertain deck of a flat-bottomed barge, you too will be happy to have your boots on solid ground again.

The walls of Kharangia are still far into the distance, but even from here, you can see the shattered remains of the bridges which had once connected the city to the other side of the Kharan. Beyond the shattered stumps, you see the dark, hazy shapes of distant ships, a forest of masts rising from the fog-filled basin of Kharangia's harbour: the assembled might of the Northern Fleet.

You will not have a chance to get a closer look, for you and the rest of the King's division are disembarking a day's march short of the city at a series of piers built specifically for the purpose.

It is there that you find yourself once again in the presence of the Duke of Cunaris.

-

He meets you as you come ashore, accompanied by a small group of men. Cazarosta stands to the left of To his left, another officer stands, dark and slim, the slightest trace of a smirk on his face. The last fellow stands behind the Duke's wicker chair, a wisp of a boy whose resemblance to Lord Renard is too uncanny to dismiss.

"Welcome back, Captain," Cunaris greets you easily as he returns your salute.

The Duke waves a calloused hand towards the scarred deathborn to his side. "I trust you are already familiar with Sir Caius?"

You incline your head politely towards the other officer. He nods back, his expression carefully neutral.

Cunaris continues, waving his hand at the officer to the left of the deathborn. "Captain, may I present to you, Captain Adalberto d'al Garret, commanding officer of Fourth Squadron, recently arrived from Tierra—" Then, to the young man behind him, "—and Cornet Laurent d'al Findlay, my second son."

"I'm glad you've been able to return to us in time, Ortiga," the Duke continues, the tone of his voice growing earnest enough for you to realise that his words are no mere pleasantry. "It simplifies matters greatly."

He leans forward in his chair. "You realise that it is His Majesty's opinion that we are soon to face the prospect of open battle against the Antari?"

"We are, sir?" you reply, nonplussed. You had heard nothing of that.

Cunaris shakes his head, a sigh of exasperation just short of release. "Whether we are or not doesn't matter; what matters is that His Majesty thinks we are. In such an eventuality, the regiment will need an officer to lead it in the field."

The Duke's implication is an obvious one; you are to command the regiment in the battle to come, all of it.

He reaches into the breast of his jacket and hands you a folded sheet of parchment stamped with the royal seal. "Your brevet to lieutenant-colonel, effective until the current situation is resolved."

1) A fresh chance to prove my worth, one which I welcome eagerly!
2) I should not get too excited; it is only a brevet promotion.
3) More responsibility only means more ways to fail.
4) I fear I am not ready for such a burden.
Personal Information

As of the Spring of the 611th year of the Old Imperial Era.

Age: 23
Rank: Lieutenant-colonel (Brevet)


Wealth: 304
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 21%
Health: 65%

Idealism: 65%; Cynicism: 35%
Ruthlessness: 39%; Mercy: 61%

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: 39%
Morale: 38%
Loyalty: 46%
Strength: 82%

Persons of Importance

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.

LAURENT D'AL FINDLAY
(Born 597 OIE) Cornet of the Royal Dragoon regiment, younger son 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.

ADALBERTO D'AL GARRET
(Born 590 OIE) Captain of the Royal Dragoon regiment, commanding officer of Fourth Squadron.Baneblood.

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.

CEDRIC LEWES
(Born 577 OIE) Sergeant-major in the 8th Regiment of Foot. Holds a brevet commission as a Lieutenant of the Experimental Corps of Riflemen. Baneless.

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.

VICTOR D'AL REYES
(Born 583 OIE) Major of the 8th Regiment of Foot, commander of the Experimental Corps of Riflemen. 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.

ELEANORA D'AL WELLES, COUNTESS OF WELLES
(Born 587 OIE) Tierran noblewoman and civil servant. Currently in Antar at the behest of Grenadier Square. Orphaned by the death of her father at the Battle of Blogia in OIE 607.Baneblood.

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.

State of War

(NOTE: Did not take screenshot of the most up to date map so one above is outdated. King Miguel's army now north of Mhillanovil and Prince Khorobirit's army is now north-west from Fort Kharan.)

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.

 

[Grimgravy]

1

 

[ERYFKRAD]

1

 

[Reinhardt]

1.

A fresh chance to prove my worth, which means more ways to fail!

 

[baud]

2

 

[Lithium Flower]

A brevet commission carries with it all the responsibilities of a higher rank but none of its attendant perquisites; you'll still pull a captain's pay, and Grenadier Square could revert you to your permanent rank with but a word.

Still, to be given command of the entire regiment is a terribly exciting thing, a chance not only to prove your worth as a soldier but your potential as a senior officer, as well. Do well enough, and the powers that be might even deign to earmark you for a regiment of your own, or perhaps even appointment to general-of-brigade.

That, however, lies yet in the future. First, you must prove yourself competent in the now.

You take the warrant with an almost unseemly eagerness, knowing that it may prove the path to greater things.

There is a short exchange then, with Cazarosta and Garret formally accepting your authority over them as interim regimental commanding officer.

Only when they are dismissed and gone does Cunaris turn to you again, his expression pained.

"I must apologize, Ortiga; this must all be quite a shock," he says. "It was not my will to impose this responsibility upon you so suddenly."

1) "Are you sure I'm ready for this, sir?"
2) "On the contrary, I must thank you for your confidence in me."
3) "Why can't you command the regiment, sir?"
4) "Cazarosta has seniority. Shouldn't he be in command?"

Personal Information

As of the Spring of the 611th year of the Old Imperial Era.

Age: 23
Rank: Lieutenant-colonel (Brevet)


Wealth: 304
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 21%
Health: 65%

Idealism: 66%; Cynicism: 34%
Ruthlessness: 39%; Mercy: 61%

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: 39%
Morale: 38%
Loyalty: 46%
Strength: 82%

 

[Grimgravy]

3>2

 

[ERYFKRAD]

2

 

[Major_Blackhart]

2

 

[Reinhardt]

2

 

[LordTryhard]

3. "Wheelchair man, why aren't you galloping into battle with the rest of the regiment?"

 

[ERYFKRAD]

3. "Wheelchair man, why aren't you galloping into battle with the rest of the regiment?"

5% int option

 

[Lithium Flower]

"Confidence, sir?" Cunaris asks, his voice edged with hard frustration. "If you think that this temporary elevation is a sign of any sort of confidence in your abilities on my part, then you are mistaken, sir!"

"Your Grace?" you ask confusedly. If the Duke doesn't think you're ready to lead the regiment, then why would he allow you to take command of it?

"Do not think that I am ignorant of what you have been up to these last two years, Ortiga," he replies. "You have proven yourself an unreliable officer, at best, and a questionable leader of men. I do not trust the quality of your character nor the steadiness of your resolve, but Saints be damned, you are all I have."

The Duke meets your gaze, his eyes hard and unflinching. "I do not entrust my regiment to you by choice, sir, but I shall expect that you will do your utmost to ensure the preservation of its honour and the lives of its men, am I made clear?"

You can offer little, save a nod in reply.

For a moment, the Duke falls silent once more. When he speaks again, his voice comes quietly, not far above a whisper. "And Ortiga?"

"Sir?"

"My condolences," he says softly, "about your father; I understand that you did not bear much love for him, but…" He pauses, breathing deep. "I imagine that you do not bear such a loss lightly."

You try to offer some coherent response, but in the end, you say the only thing you really can. "Thank you, sir."

Cunaris nods back. "See to my regiment, Colonel. Dismissed."

-

Havenport's division is encamped in a vast fortified cantonment outside of Kharangia, an immense scar of canvas, bare earth, and fortification cut into the open plains north of the city. Close enough to the River Kharan to control its crossings yet far more difficult to encircle or surprise than the walled city itself, it is here that the two divisions of the Tierran army finally combine their forces for the first time in two years.

The Dragoon encampment is in the northeastern corner of the camp, abutted on two sides by the fortified ditch and immense earthen rampart which surrounds the cantonment on all sides. It is into the shadow of this great barrier that you lead the men of your squadron to set up camp and prepare for the battle that Cunaris seems so sure is coming.

It is not just Cunaris, either. The rumour has already spread throughout the forces of Havenport's division, and it soon spreads to the camps of the King's men, as well: Khorobirit is coming, with the whole of his power, to throw the Tierran army into the sea or destroy himself in the attempt. From whence the rumours came, you have no idea. All you know is that within two days of your arrival, the entire army, up to perhaps even Havenport himself, believes them as if they were holy writ.

So, it is no wonder that you spend the next few days in feverish preparation; horses are reshod, sabres honed, worn flints replaced with fresh-cut ones, all in advance of the moment which the over twenty thousand men of the combined army awaits, the moment in which some official announcement is made and rumour is given substance.

On your fourth day in camp, that moment comes.

-

That morning, Marion tells you the news as he serves you breakfast.

"A runner from Havenport's staff came by while you were sleeping, sir," he informs you as he sets down your tea. "He told me to tell you that there is to be a meeting at His Grace's tent at eleven o'clock, and that you are required to attend."

"Did he mention specifically what this meeting is meant to address?" you ask as you begin to spoon sugar into your Kian-style congee.

Marion shakes his head. "He did not, sir, though he did say that the meeting was of utmost importance, and that the commander of every regiment was required to attend, which can really only mean one thing."

You nod. There is no other reason why Havenport would see the need to bring together every single senior officer in the army.

"Prince Khorobirit is coming," you conclude aloud.

Your bat-man nods. "Prince Khorobirit is coming," he echoes, "and soon."

-

It is a quarter to eleven by the time you finish dealing with the morning's crises. Only then are you able to throw on your good jacket, buckle your dress sabre, and make your way down to the Duke of Havenport's massive command tent in the centre of the cantonment.

You are almost to the entrance when you find yourself met by a small group of officers, their forest-green trousers and jackets splattered with spots of wet and splashes of river mud from the waist down. They stand with the relaxed posture of country gentlemen rather than the straight-legged rigour of line infantry or the bowlegged swagger of your fellow cavalrymen.

The man at their head, a tall, rangy major with a face which seems more angle than surface, salutes you with a languid cheerfulness as you approach them, only for his eyes to throw themselves wide with recognition as you come closer.

"Good morning, sir! Lieutenant-colonel Ortiga of the Dragoons, are you not?" he asks with a genteel enthusiasm which might almost excuse his borderline-uncivil forwardness.

You nod. "I am, sir," you reply, somewhat warily.

The other officer's face breaks out into a wide grin as he extends a hand towards you. "Wonderful! Might I have the honour of shaking your hand, sir?"

Your mind cannot help but reel. You have never met this man, yet he wants to shake your hand? "I would be happy to," you manage to reply, "though I do not think we have ever been introduced, Major…"

"Major Victor d'al Reyes, commanding officer of the Experimental Corps of Riflemen, at your service," he proclaims. "Your squadron rescued one of my officers last year; Lieutenant Lewes, I do not suppose you have forgotten him? He has told me all about you."

"Nothing too bad, I hope?" you reply awkwardly, still off-balance from the force of Reyes's exuberance.

"Nothing but compliments, glowing ones at that," the Experimental officer replies brightly. He leans in as if to tell you a secret. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he was wanting to go to bed with you."

"Not while there's a war on, sir," replies a deeper, rougher, more familiar voice from the rear of the group. "That's against the King's Articles; I'm only for women while we're still in Antar," Lieutenant Lewes intones as he shifts his way forward, dark blond hair glittering in the morning sun.

"Behave yourself, Cedric," Reyes answers chidingly, his words laden with an exaggerated pretension. "You're an officer and a gentleman for the duration, and that means you must act scandalised whenever a brother officer speaks of anything save poetry and killing."

"Apologies, sir," Lewes replies, feigning contrition. "I'm not much good at acting scandalised."

"Then you must practise, sir!" Reyes answers with jocular ease. "You must practise!"

1) "I'm happy to see Lieutenant Lewes is well."
2) "I thought the Experimentals were still at Fort Kharan?"
3) "Are you always this familiar with your subordinates, Major?"
4) "Excuse me, sirs, I have pressing business; good day, gentlemen."
Personal Information

As of the Spring of the 611th year of the Old Imperial Era.

Age: 23
Rank: Lieutenant-colonel (Brevet)

Wealth: 304
Income: 15

Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 21%
Health: 65%

Idealism: 66%; Cynicism: 34%
Ruthlessness: 39%; Mercy: 61%

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: 39%
Morale: 38%
Loyalty: 46%
Strength: 82%

 

[Grimgravy]

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[Tigranes]

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[Major_Blackhart]

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[ERYFKRAD]

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