Chapter 14: Volume 1 - CH 3.1

“Reinforcements? For the 1st, my Lady?” I asked.

“That’s right,” answered Emilie. “Even now, they’re battle-locked in the waters of the Erbelde—they’ve called for aid, and we’re to answer.”

Two years have passed since Emilie and I enlisted in the Order, and we now stood at the precipice of our first real battle.

To go this long without any action was apparently not too uncommon an occurrence here at the 5th, known as it was for being rather sheepish about getting its hands dirty. Regardless, Mareschal Tallien himself and the leadership were quite thrilled about this new development—the boredom had finally taken its toll, it seemed. As such, it was by then a certainty that most of the 5th would be mobilised for this mission.

At present, the 1st Chivalric Order and the Nafilim horde were staring each other down at the Erbelde Broadrun, a prominent river snaking through the kingdom’s eastern reach.

To the Nafilim, it was a line they meant to jealously defend, and thus were dug in their heels trying to ward off the invading knights of the 1st—no easy task, given the latter’s distinction as the crème de la crème of the kingdom’s military menu, as it were.

The knightly host, for its part, was charged with breaking through the enemy line and securing the fertile river basin from which the Erbelde flowed—a foray that the 5th now wholly tasked itself to assist.

“And when do we leave?” I asked further.

“In three days hence,” Emilie confirmed.

“Quite the hurry. Though if the 1st saw need of reinforcements, time would be precious, I presume.”

“I’m told the 1st’s numbers count greater than the enemy’s, actually. Winning there shall prove most lucrative; ‘twould seem they won’t settle for aught less than a certain victory. That’s where we come in.”

Where we come in, she said? I see. It would seem our kingdom deemed the potential boon too precious to give up. Our role as reinforcements was to make certain this victory they so sought—meaning a spark of opportunity had at last been found at the end of much struggle.

“A month and more it’s been since the 1st moved to retake the Erbelde. If they’ve been stalled by a stalemate that entire time, then they’ve called for reinforcements to try and pierce the impenetrable… or is it that the fates have revealed an opening, my Lady?”

“They have, from the looks of it. And the 1st means not to squander their newfound fortune.”

Put another way, failing to capitalise on this opportunity would likely mean a return to the dreaded stalemate. No wonder our kingdom was bending over backwards to settle the battle once and for all.

“Rolf, let’s give it our all!” Emilie smiled.

“My all, I will give,” I returned. “Though pray tell, who draws the plans for our march?”

“The mareschal does, with the commissariat under his wing. But I’m afraid all the haste has whipped them into quite the fevered flock.”

“The march will be no birdwalk, let alone the coming battle itself,” I observed. “If the Erbelde is our destination, cutting through the Belithas Steppe is sure to save us time, but I fear the midsummer sun’s glare dares to sap us of our strength and spirits both. I say we must needs march through the Sewell Wealdlands insteadーthe air is cooled by the trees there, and with waters running aplenty, our men need not worry of thirsting along the way.”

“Se-Sewell, you said? Hmm… You do have a point,” said Emilie. “Right, I’ll be sure to take up this matter to the mareschal.”

From then until the day of departure, the 5th was aboil in its busied bustling. All within were in high spirits, but each also found himself itching with unease. Training was officially held off till departure as well, but defying this, I resumed my own regimen as usual. The coming mission was all the more reason to continue honing myself.

On the benighted eve of our departure, I peered up at the eastern sky, having just finished sword practice.

Would I be of some use, odylless as I am? Will I find some part to play in the looming battlefield? These, I need only to find out for myself.

Somewhere beyond the eastward horizon, the knights of the 1st were mired in the heat of battle—to them, I sent these uncertain thoughts.

♰

“Rolf! Forgive me!” were Emilie’s first words right upon the day of our departure.

I’ll hazard a guess: I’m to remain here as a watchdog. Or perhaps the marching scheme remains unchanged? The only one to be troubled would be myself, were it the former.

The latter, however…

“‘Twas no good: the mareschal’s settled on the route through Belithas. I insisted on Sewell, but my words fell on deaf ears,” Emilie explained.

“I see,” was my sunken response. “My Lady, did you perchance mention that I had aught to do with the Sewell proposal?”

Emilie twiddled her fingers in regret. “I… did.”

“Would that you hadn’t.”

“Th-the other leaders, they sought speed over all else! A march through Belithas would take seven days, and Sewell nine. ‘Detours are not for reinforcements to take,’ they said,” Emilie elaborated. For why, I could not know; there was little point in it now.

“Yes. You are certainly right, my Lady,” I resigned. “We must move with utmost dispatch. It won’t do to keep the 1st waiting.”

“Right,” Emilie replied. “We leave soon. I trust you’ve made ready?”

“I have, my Lady.”

Hence marched the 5th Order to the eastern fringes of the realm, where ran the Erbelde’s embattled waters. In spite of the occasion, however, my spirits failed to match themselves to the surrounding excitement.

♰

Five hours had gone by since the morning of our departure. We Owlcranes marched alongside the Mareschal Tallien on horseback, save for myself, of course: the entirety of the trip so far saw me afoot, pulling Emilie’s mount along.

“Rolf…” she called to me from upon her saddle. “How are you faring?”

“Well enough, my Lady.”

A look around revealed the 5th’s officers quietly bearing themselves under the sweltering sun, the toil having stolen the mood for idle chatter. Many were not given a steed of their own, such as my fellow swains and officers whose specialisations eschewed the luxury. Regardless, they all suffered the heat just the same, as their furrowed faces and laborious breaths indicated.

“Heard you came up with the Sewell route, eh ungraced?” Gerd hissed. “Thought we’d be better off sauntering under the cool canopies, now did you?”

“I did, Lord Gerd.”

“Hah! Reinforcements—out on a jolly, wooded safari, taking their sweet time along the way. What folly!” struck Gerd.

“Hurrying through hell, only to be paralysed with exhaustion—a fool’s errand any reinforcements should avoid, I would think,” I countered.

To this, Gerd audibly clucked and made ready to shout. “What’s that, now? Sharp be his tongue the hound who but tugs the master’s steed till his own exhaustion! Don’t think for a second that our ranks suffer aught should you drop dead, ungraced!”

“Oi, mickle-berk. Quite the softy, aren’t ye, fer a giant?” Raakel chimed in. “Don’t ye go beefin’ on us when it gets proper maftin’, ey!”

“My words were misplaced. Forgive me, Lord Gerd, Lady Raakel.”

We soon took and finished our midday meals. The march resumed under the unrelenting glare of the sun, which conjured up from the ground a veil of mirages, wriggling and seething. Through them, the 5th’s footfalls dragged, heavily and heavier still.

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Two, three hours crept on by. The march’s momentum noticeably slowed all the while. Even those mounted have all but ceased their utterings.

Each and every one of our throats begged for water, but they could scarcely be slaked: unlike the Sewell Wealdlands, abound with runnels and rivulets as they were, the steppes of Belithas afforded no source of water by which our stores of it could be replenished. We could only partake according to a strict regimen, though that unfortunately had not stopped our water supply from running low.

Merciless was the screaming sun in searing away our stamina. Haggard breaths scratched against the air all around. Some soon even found their eyes meandering from all the strain.

“…Oi. Ungraced,” muttered Gerd.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“A break. That’s what you want. Isn’t it?”

“Nay. I can keep the course.”

“Hah. You traitorous lot. Brew your lies to taste, I see,” Gerd retorted. “Too bad. No break for you. Not for a long while yet.”

He was right. There would be no breaks, not where we were: Belithas lacked not only water, but also aught that could spare even a sliver of shade. And raising tents each and every time we were to take rest was simply out of the question.

“I’m well aware, my Lord.”

“Hmph.”

“Hardly do I see your course being kept for much longer, dear swain. Already, you have quite the shimmer of sweat about you,” Sheila remarked. “I understand you long to pretend the paragon, but if knighthood be your aim, you had best lay down your lies.”

“Nay, Lady Sheila,” I began to rebut. “I will keep my course. This much sweat warrants no worry. If there is a concern to be had, it should be of lacking salt.”

“Salt, you say?” Sheila wondered aloud.

Veritably so. The summer months saw coal miners and their ilk regularly partake of salt. But it was vain to expect the others here to know of this, pampered princes as they all were.

“Was that why you insisted that we lick some salt, Rolf? During lunchtime?” asked Emilie.

“Indeed, my Lady.”

“Suckle on salt as though it be a teat o’ water—yer brightest idea yet, ye twiny-twonk!” heckled Raakel.

Such hollow conversations continued on as we marched east. The skies sank into twilight, but that did little to abate the heat. Our formations had by that point dissolved into disarray. Those mounted resigned themselves to hanging their gazes down onto the backs of their horses, silent all the while.

In spite of the sheer toil, the 5th somehow managed to arrive at the first day’s designated destination. Everyone was all but spent, eager only to quit. For their part, the leadership were gathered around the mareschal, discussing plans for the overnight camp.

“…Make sure all goes as planned,” ordered Tallien. “Emilie, the nightwatch proceeds as we’ve arranged. Go ahead and confirm the particulars with the other lieutenants.”

“Right away, Mareschal.”

“Permission to speak, Lady Emilie,” I interjected.

“Oh?” she said with a startle. “Yes, go ahead, Rolf.”

Apparently, the others still had the vigour to show their unbridled disgust towards an ungraced, whose sole role in the meeting was to stand idle by Emilie as her dutiful swain. But I couldn’t let their livid looks stop me. The situation was dire; it was now or never.

“Requesting a change in plans,” I began proposing. “We should finish supper without erecting the tents, and resume marching through the night after a short break. This, I believe, best serves our interests.”

“‘Cover ground whilst the sun is sunk,’ is what you’re saying, now?” Tallien summarised.

“That is correct, Mareschal.”

“And you best mind your tongue, ungraced,” Gerd cut in, his voice low and lethal like a knife upon the neck. “We’ve not trained in night-marching, and you would have us leap into a trial by fire? Spent as we are?”

“It is hardly an affront to common sense as you may believe, Lord Gerd. Marching by cover of night in the midst of summer is a measure frequently undertaken, as our military annals would gladly attest,” I rebutted. “Furthermore, the lay of Belithas is both level and open, and lies firmly within friendly territory. I believe we scarce imperil ourselves were we to proceed as I’ve outlined.”

“There’s little comfort to be had in a ‘scarce peril’, ungraced!” Gerd yelled.

“We have been quite conservative in our consumption of water, Lord Gerd, and yet our stores of it already find themselves depleted two-tenths beyond projections. At this rate, many of our men will be forced to withdraw before ever reaching the 1st—all on account of severe dehydration.”

“Dam that tongue of yours, you bloody wastrel! Don’t you dare speak as though you know aught!”

Well, this is going rather swimmingly.

Gerd had all but surrendered himself to his emotions, and they were to him as a horsewhip set upon the horse, lashing to be beat of my every word. Talk of the Sewell route earlier that day must have been crossing his mind, in spite of his thorough mocking of it. That we hadn’t chosen the wooded route precipitated the sorry state the soldiers of the 5th now found themselves in, and in light of this reality, Gerd was moulding his shame into fresh anger with my name writ large upon it.

But as it stood, the march itself was in dire straits in every sense.

“Mareschal Tallien. I support Rolf’s idea,” came Emilie, cutting in. “Had we marched according to his design, we would not find ourselves in such circumstances as we are now. I believe we should change our marching scheme while we are yet able, just as he had described.”

“Ach!” Gerd groaned bitterly.

Emilie’s words were as oil doused upon a flame. Glad was I for her support, but with the mention of routes worming into his ears, Gerd was at that point right about to explode. Emilie speaking to the mareschal instead did not help in calming the Owlcrane’s fuming temper, either.

It was then that reinforcements of a different sort arrived.

“An’ ye best quench that flamin’ tongue o’ yours, Gerd. I see yer worry’d ‘bout this ‘scarce peril’, but what with the likes o’ us, it be child’s play, no? Besides, runnin’ dry o’ water’s a mite tough, if I’m honest. Why not treat us selves to a nice mooch under the stars? Save some water along the way, ey?”

“Mr. Gerd, I must confess: I, too, am agreed with the Misses Emilie and Raakel.”

Rational thought still had a home in Raakel and Sheila, it would seem. Gerd very much seemed the brat being coddled by more calm and collected souls. That he did not take offence spoke of the long years the two women had suffered his company; indeed, by now, they’ve become quite deft in dealing with that firebrand of a man.

‘I, too, am agreed with the Misses Emilie and Raakel.’ Likely a phrase not carefully contrived, but one that slipped quite naturally from the lips. Well said, Sheila. Leaving me out of the picture and agreeing instead with the other girls was rather tactful.

“Gerd, you’re one of our prized aces, aren’t you? ‘Twould be a great ease to us all to have you in tip-top shape for the coming battle, wouldn’t you say?” Emilie followed up with a smile, one that seemed to seal the deal to no small effect.

“…I would,” Gerd relented with a coarse sigh. “Fine, then.”

The other brigades found no reason to doubt the Owlcranes’ will, seeing as the latter were their superiors in rank. Things were beginning to look up, at last.

“All who oppose?” Tallien inquired, looking all along the other lieutenants. Their collective silence signalled consent. “None. Right, we resume marching tonight. Leaders, finish supping and tell your men to rest. Meet back with me once that’s done. Adjourned!”

Disgust and contempt twisted the faces of the leadership as they dispersed—Tallien included. Compromise was a bitter medicine indeed, but one they were compelled to swallow.

It was settled: we would march by night. Our troubles were sure to continue, but nonetheless, Emilie couldn’t help but smile amongst the sea of frowns.

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