The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 6, Chapter 19

"I suspect it's your ranking specialists who insist on defying your orders, Drell," Colonel Dremora replied. "Othwald, what's your take on the this? Can we spare the ammo?"

"I got us six thousand rounds. It's enough for every gun in our section to fire for an hour, assuming two shots a minute. Given how quickly a Golem walks, I didn't stock us for a longer firefight," Major Othwald said.

"Is that comparable to what the other armies have stocked?" Colonel Dremora asked.

"No. Second and Third Armies stocked nine apiece. Most of the armies took less than three."

Gwen was only partially following the conversation, but even she was perturbed by what she heard. And as the colonel turned away from the window finally, Gwen guessed it was an opinion the woman shared. "Only three? Why?"

"It's about all you can fit in train cars, and still have room for the guns and the soldiers," Othwald replied.

"So most of the others are pulling their stockpiles direct from the cars," Colonel Dremora said, nodding. "Doing it that way means they don't need as many troops to help offload equipment and supplies, which would be a good idea if half of the army wasn't already sitting around waiting for the invasion to get to them."

"I suspect there's another reason for it, ma'am," Major Othwald said.

So do I. It means they want to keep the trains close. The damn fools are planning to evacuate when the Golems get close."

"Not a luxury we enjoy," one of the other majors said. "Our evac depends on Second Army's success."

"It also means we're guaranteed to be wasting ammo on five Golems we have no intention of bringing down. You heard those reports from the western wall, the one reporting that the Golem fixes itself when it stops. If we aren't committed to dropping one, we're just wasting ammo. And the lives of the Crafters who will take the wall with us. Speaking of, any word, Othwald?"

"Crafter Umber is here. Polden's on her way, the First Stone finally let her go. We're expecting another three within two hours."

"Five, then. Possibly six," Colonel Dremora turned towards them for the first time, and her eyes lingered on Vincent. "Special Talent, Rank Five. Given direct from the Captain of the Cadavalan Rangers. Barleybarrel's final, hardest line of defence."

Colonel Dremora paused, looked at each of them in turn for a moment, and then turned back to the window. "I need the room," she said without looking at anyone in particular.

Major Othwald was the first to answer. "Aye, ma'am. We'll return to it."

"I need to stop whoever's been firing those guns, anyway," one of the other majors said.

"Major Drell, do no such thing," Colonel Dremora stopped the Major without raising her voice. "There are too many people working those guns who have never seen one fired before. Best they get the jitters out of their system now, so all they need to worry about is that mountain of stone marching for us."

The others left the room, leaving just the rangers still standing near the doorway. Colonel Dremora looked at them again, and stopped at Lieutenant Volenski. "Neveah, Fredrick, out. This concerns Fourth Platoon."

"Ma'am, I'm their commanding officer. I should be present," Lieutenant Volenski protested.

"Their captain should be present, Volenski," Colonel Dremora said. "I only see one bar on your sword."

"That's not," The lieutenant began to protest, but eventually squared her shoulders and saluted. 'Aye, ma'am."

Volenski and Sandson turned, and walked to the door. Neveah paused at the door, and said "ma'am, let it be said for the histories, I am honoured to have them."