The Titans of Rainwood lost their flare after a few days of walking under them. Now there were just blocking out what little sunlight was left in the sky as the grey clouds of winter began to creep in from the west. The woods the air beneath the canopy was dark and brown. The leaves were falling harder everyday. There was talk that the snow would be falling just as hard before the men began their march home, if they would return home before the light of spring shined through the snowy night.
It was getting could too. Jergan, Eliza and the others could see their breath in the air as clearly as one could see smoke from a pipe. In the frosty mornings their armor was freezing to the touch, and the feeling would even step through the protection of their thick leather under armor in the moments after they put it on. At night, it got especially cold. Men would gather around fires like prayer circles and hold their open hands to the flame hoping for a little relief.
But it was not the cold or the bleak sky that got to the the young knights the most, it was the evidence of the war around them. Although the bulk of the Morcar army had not made it this far east, the scars of the war had. Bandits and outlaws, many of them refugees themselves have taken to thievery and marauding in order to get by. Everyday, the young knights rode by burnt houses, dead bodies, and crowds of people clinging together with whatever weapons they could find. The Prince ordered the Bastard Brigade to placed at the center of the army, where none of them had much of a chance to slip off and prey on these poor people. Rolrik himself had Aiden Marthal tied to the end of a horse.
Many of these refugees were able-bodied men. Tauron sent word through the army that any that wished to join were to be supplied leather and a spear. By the end of the first fortnight of marching they had added nearly six hundred. But for every hundred fighting men that they added, another five hundred women, children, crippled, sick and elderly were added as well. These followers sought the army for food and protection, for which they could give little. The Rainwood was not ideal farming country, leaving the army deprived of the endless stocks they had marching through the fertile heart of the Kingdom.
They were a pitiful sight for the young knights. They looked as filthy and ragged as the Brigade, but instead of murderous and hateful, these poor folk were just plain miserable looking. They all agreed to ride towards the front of the army where the sight of them was not as common, but still there.
"Why can't they just pass us by?" even Locke was growing distressed by what he had been seeing, "Why do they have to follow us?"
"We're their beacon of hope," Eliza stated, "We have food and we have weapons. They think we can protect them."
"Why can't they just give us the Lord's good wishes and send us on our way?"
"If there was an army pillaging the swampland, wouldn't you want to stand and fight?"
"The difference, Bart is that I would not have runaway first. Half of those men are deserters, running from their posts. Now there's this bigger army and they feel safer with us," the knight scoffed, "The cowards should be hung. No wonder this shithole has been overrun."
"I really hope he gets a nice hit to the head," Bart whispered to Jergan. Gor was not present at the moment. He was meeting with some Velrock men that left Anthre with the Prince. They were under the command of Helg Velrock, though all the knights knew that Archduke Amos would be far more comfortable with his second son carrying his banners.
"Might fix that part of his head that he was dropped on," Jergan whispered back and they both giggled.
Locke exploded with coughs. The cold was beginning to get to him, "Why can't these Westland fucks defend themselves. Why can't they defend their own fucking country. Hey Bart, that's another difference right there. If the Swampland were invaded, we'd have thrown the cunts out by now. Not have to drag our neighbors through these freezing woods to lend a hand."
"We are all part of Liticea, Locke."
"Don't give me that tripe, Eliza. I'm of the Swamplands, and I should be dying for the Swamplands. Not for these bastards."
"Careful, the Frog might hear you," Bart referred to Rolrik.
"Piss on him, and his whole brigade of pilfering shits."
It was a joke to the rest, but the Bastard and his men were still in the mind of Eliza. Seeing all the women out crawling in the woods made her thankful for their sakes that the Butcher of Marthal was tied to a horse. She thought him and the whole brigade would be tied to a tree branch, by their necks. Them and the Bastard.
"Fuck me, it is getting cold," Bart joined in the complaining.
"We're approaching the end of autumn. It'll be snowing soon."
"Damn Morcars chose a fine time to invade."
"At least we'll have a castle! The Morcars will be stuck out in the cold."
"Yeah, but it'll be Horith Ryden's castle. I hear his chair is made from the bones of the the last king of the Westlan."
"That's ridiculous," Eliza said. Bart was thankful Jon was elsewhere, or else they would have to endure another one of his lectures. The only one who seemed to care at all was Eliza, and she did it just to be polite. That was Eliza for them.
Days were growing shorter along with provisions. That day turned to night hours before the day's march was over. The blackness was only lit by the lanterns that guided the army along the narrow path until they settled in the village of Sarloc. It was little more than a collection of hamlets and an Inn. The Prince, Lord Dayvey, and most of the Barons opted to pass the night in the Inn, including Lord Rengle, whom shared a room with his son. Helg and Gor were also given a room since no son of the Archduke should have to freeze to death. The same was offered to Eliza, the Daughter of Markus Eleanor whose involvement in this war may become critical in the coming months.
The same was not offered to the common soldiers. Terrell, Eve, and Malek were growing ever more tired of this assignment. The three of them were gathered around their own small fire, where they could discuss business without any worries of unwanted attention.
"This is bullshit!" Terrell complained, breathing hot air onto his hands for small relief.
"I'm with you on that, sonny. But we must keep low if we want to do our job."
"Why did we have to be footmen? We could've passed as hedge knights. We'd be closer to the Prince too," he pointed to the other soldiers, "This lot people like him don't touch with a ten foot lance."
"But here is where we have ears," Malek said.
"Ears? How the fuck are to know of anything freezing out here?"
"We'll know from them," referring to the soldiers again, "They're the mouths of this army. Anything suspicious happens, they talk and we hear."
"That's very good and all, but the purpose of plots, especially against a Prince are generally kept secret. As in, secret enough that some farmer handed a sword will be able to notice it. Besides, they're too cold to notice if they've pissed themselves."
"It's what we must do for the King, Terrell," Eve said, calm and sure of her words.
"I know it's for the King. It's the only reason I'm here."
"Keep remembering that, sonny. It'll help you warm up," he finished as they were joined by a group of four other soldiers, wearing the sigil of House Fallaner, so fellow Blackfield men.
"This fire got room for a few more?" the lead one asked.
"Wouldn't call you lot a few," Terrell aggressively replied, but Malek shrugged him aside.
"But we still have warmth for all. Please sit," he invited and they all joined.
"Thanks friend. What's the name of you men," he just then noticed Eve, "Oh, sorry miss, didn't see you there."
She smiled to assure it meant nothing, "I'm Eve."
"Malek."
"Terrell."
"Name's Kruger," he said, "This is Wallic, Daren, and Gorden."
"Charmed," Malek said.
"You're Fallaner's men," Eve said.
"You recognize the colors?"
"Everyone knows the colors of Rengle Ironwall, my friend.
"We did not know his name was so well known," a glimmer of pride appeared in the soldiers eyes that lifted their spirits in this cursed cold.
"You learn something everyday."
"I suppose so," Kruger and the others all opened their hands to the fire.
"Where are you from?" Wallis asked.
"We're from Blackfield," answered Malek.
"Is it true that there are so many forges it looks like the Castle is on fire?"
Eve laughed, "That's an exaggeration. And the fields around the Castle are not covered with soot, in case you want to ask."
"Your town is not far from Blackfield. Have you never seen it?" Terrell asked.
"No, we spent our whole lives in the field," Wallis said.
Kruger nodded in agreement, "Have never been outside of Rushka."
"Can't imagine how you felt when you saw the Titans."
"You have no idea. The tallest thing I've ever seen was Carell Keep. But then we went to Anton and it's twice as big!"
"We thought we had seen it all," Wallis said.
"And then we saw those trees," Gorden said, "And we just felt so small."
Malek nodded in agreement, "They do have that effect on people."
"Have you been to the Rainwood before?" Wallis asked.
"Yes," Malek was not lying. His service to the King has brought him to many places, "I've been all around the Kingdom. In fact..." he leaned in, closer to the fire mid-sentence. All the boys from Rushka did the same, eager to hear what it was, "I was in the Corasian War. I was at the Battle of Brother's Crossing. I marched with king Austin north and helped him crush the Corasian Legion."
All of their eyes opened wide as if a ghost appeared before them, "Your were at Brother's Crossing?"
"What was it like?"
"Weren't any of your father's there?"
"My father was a soldier and mother was a healer," Kruger said, "My father died in the battle and mom came home with me in her belly."
"My father died fighting alongside Rengle Ironwall," Gorden chimed in, "Left when I was just a year old. Mom and my uncle raised me."
"Is your uncle marching with us, good sir?" curious Malek asked.
"He hurt his leg three years ago. His fightin' days are over."
"I see. I'm sorry to here that. And I'm terribly sorry you never got to know yu fathers."
"Out dads made it back," Daren spoke for himself and Wallis, "They were at the battle too. Maybe you've met them!"
"There were a hundred thousand men in that battle, sonny. I find that incredibly unlikely."
They understood his point and decided not to pursue, except for Wallis, "So what was the battle like?"
"Didn't your father ever tell you about it?"
"He never liked to. He just said that it was a glorious victory."
"The victory was glorious," agreed the veteran soldier, "But the battle was anything but."
The young men the n looked confused, "How can that be? We won didn't we? How could the battle have not been glorious?"
Malek was there at the battle. In fact, he was right beneath the walls, where the fighting was the fiercest. Malek himself must have killed up to twenty men that day. Severed their arms, legs and cut off their heads. In his memory, every time his sword cut through a Corasian, a fountain of blood would erupt from the body, spraying everything around it red.
When the battle was finally over and the Corasians retreated back north, he spent nearly an hour trying to wash all the blood off his body. Even longer to wash it out of his hair once in dried and formed crusty tangles. At the end, he remembers his sword arm aching, his body bruised all over from hits and his mind was scrambled like butter in a turner.
He had entered the King's army with three other friends. After the battle, he never saw them again. He looked on the littered field and through the healer's tents, but he never found them. The King ordered the dead to be buried immediately so that they could pursue the Corasians and finish them. Lucky for Malek, and the other soldiers, they surrendered before another battle ensued.
"When the coming battles are fought and done," Malek spoke, looking at all the youngsters around him, including Eve and Terrell, "Then you will all understand. I hope you understand," I hope you live to understand, he said to himself.
"Understand what?" one of them asked.
"Don't ask," Eve said, "He goes off like this all the time. Get's lost in his own thoughts and forces us to listen too."
The Ruska men could not make any sense out of what she said.
"He doesn't like to talk about it," Terrell said bluntly.
"Oh," Wallis grunted, "Sorry for pushing you."
"No offense taken," Malek replied.
For a minute they all sat around the fire trying to get some warmth in this unforgiving cold. Though winter had not yet begun, the pre-winter frosts were busily preparing the country for the most dreaded season. Winter in the Northern parts of Liticea was harsh and freezing, but they could make it. They were thankful that they did not live in the Northern Provinces, where it is said to snow as deep as houses and bury entire villages. Malek had heard many exaggerated claims in his life, but this story was not one of them. He was up north several years ago when he first came into the King's service. He ended up spending the winter in some dinky town in Netteland because all the roads were covered in snow higher than his horse.
"So, Eve are you a healer?" Daren asked.
"Pardon?" Eve replied. These boys were not yet used to seeing women in armor.
"You're a healer right?"
"No, I'm a soldier," she said, giving them a look asking what they expected.
"You are?"
"I've never seen a girl soldier," Daren said, staring at Eve as if she were an exotic animal. It was only twenty-seven years ago that the King of Liticea allowed women to serve in the Royal Army.
"You'd better get used to seeing more," Malek said, "You'd be surprised at how many girls like fighting."
"I thought they all liked sewing and babies."
"Not all of them."
"Don't you country boys know the Captain of the Brukalil is a woman?" Terrell asked. The boys did not know of his tones, but Malek recognized this as the one he used when he talked to people he perceived as idiots.
"Yeah, we did," Kruger said, "I don't know her name but I heard her be called 'the Terror.'"
"You'd be right. Bartera Noc is her name, or as we know her 'Bartera, the Terror.'"
"How'd she get that name?"
"She threw some poor sod off a wall. Luckily he landed in a hay bail," they all did not hide their shock. How could a woman do such a thing, they all asked in their expressions.
"She didn't even know of the hay bail, some say," Eve sat there grinning.
"Don't you get any ideas, Eve," Malek jokingly warned with a smile.
"I don't have any that could top that."
The day they entered the Rainwood, Tauron sent scouts to ride ahead to Rainguard to announce their arrival to Horith Ryden. They have now returned and the new they bring is dire. Horith sent his youngest son Killian out with an army of seven thousand to stop an advancing army of fifteen thousand that were advancing on Rainguard. They fought bravely, but Killian's army was retreating back and the scouts last heard his force had been severely depleted or scattered. Now about two thousand men defend Rainguard. The rest are either dead, scattered or trapped elsewhere.
Tauron's army was now only a week from Rainguard, but judging from the scout's report the Morcars could already be at their door. Tauron's army outnumbered them, but to face them would mean devastating losses potentially. And if the Morcars took the castle before Tauron could get there, that would mean a prolonged siege and a terrible fight to get them out. Never mind the fact that Horith Ryden would be dead and there would be no unity in the Westland anymore.
With his war council, the Prince decided they must move faster. The decision reached was to have most of the cavalry ride ahead of the infantry to reach the Morcars in time. They would get there twice as fast, but with only about a third of their numbers. About nine thousand horsemen rode with Tauron, including seven thousand mounted knights. The rest were either light horsemen, or javelin throwers.
The command of the army was given to the future Duke Yorod Dayvey. Though Yorod ruled the company, it was younger Parendir that gave the commands. Under him served three companies of three thousand each, and one was given to Clayton Blackwell, Harold Arrington, and Bertrand Oaran, Arch-baron Balter's eldest son. They departed the morning after the meeting. Without the cavalry the army seemed smaller. Not just in size, but in spirit. The horsemen carrying the banners of the great houses inspired men as they marched towards what could be their deaths. Now those horses were gone and it was only the lowly infantry with nothing to divert his eyes from the tedious road other than the constant sight of the Red Titans.
Of the young knights, all went except Jergan. Baron Rengle would not allow his only son and heir to go running off to battle against an overwhelming force. When Jergan tried to reason with him to go, he pointed out that Locke was the only son of Horace Horcaster. To this Rengle replied to never compare him to Lord Horace. Though Rengle had several knights in his service, his company was comprised mainly of infantry. Of the three hundred who came with him, only about seventy were knights and only forty had mounts. Those included Sir Argus Custer, who led them away under the command of Bertrand Oaran. Though it pained Rengle to give them to Yorod, he knew that they would be well in the hands of Parendir, the one who should be Duke.
Jergan was no less pleased about it. He had a horse, a lance, and an eagerness to shed Morcar blood. yet he was here marching with the infantry. Apparently, Rengle received permission from the Prince himself to keep his son out of the fighting. It was often custom for fathers to keep their only sons out of harsh battles. It was through Jergan that Rengle expected the Fallaner line to continue, and he did not like the idea of his son dying under the command of Yorod Dayvey in order to save the home of Horith Riden. If it were a fight such as it was at Brother's Crossing, Rengle would have led the charge himself with Jergan at his side. If the Fallaner line had to end that way, it would be an honorable death. But Rengle did not see the Morcars as something you want ot die fighting. These were less than men. Beasts who deserved little more than the slaughter, just as they had been doing to the Westland. The Corasian Empire were worthy enemies. These Barbarians from the west were not.
With all of his friends from the school gone, Jergan passed the long marching hour with his friends from Ruska, whom he had not seen much of since they departed Anton. Together they exchanged their experiences marching.
"My father hardly let's me out of his sight. Especially with the Bastard Brigade around," with the departure of nearly half the army, there were now less men to guard Desmond Gaule's Bastards.
"I wouldn't want to be alone with that lot around to be honest," Daren said.
"They're not men!" Wallis added, "They're all twisted monsters in human skin. I saw one riding next to the Bastard himself and he had no lips! His mouth was just teeth and gums!"
"And they have the butcher of Marthal with them."
"That man made a pass at one of my friends," Jergan remarked. They all caught that it was Elora. Though Jergan knew her as a warrior, and described her as such to the men in front of him, there was this boiling pot of anger that festered within him that would not have come to be if it had been Locke or Gor who had been threatened.
"I heard they had to pass through Ruska to get to Anton," Wallis said. The anger in Jergan now swelled to fear. He had not thought about that possibility. If they had, they would have terrorized the locals to no end since Rengle and everyone besides his uncle was gone. What of Jackie Red. That night in the woods still gave Jergan comfort and warmth in the short cold days and the long freezing nights. When he lay to bed, he felt Jackie beside him. To him, she was Ruska. The thing he had forgotten when he went to the Bustling Castle Blackfield and found himself among the nobility. Among the extravagance that came with living near the home of a Duke. The parties, the feasts, the ladies and the knights. From his thoughts, Jackie and Ruska had gone into hiding, but they were still there. They awoke when Jergan first saw the tower of Carell Keep for the first time in years. An old feeling came up inside him. The feeling of home.
And now to learn that the Bastard Brigade had marched through and violated his home made him want to march into their camp and lop everyone of their heads off. The men of the swamps were no good. The swamps gave the world men like Desmond Gaule, Loyde Horcaster, and Rolrik Frog. They were a blight on Syandor, and everyone in the Kingdom believed it. If they could, the Kings of Liticea would have wiped them out years ago, but in their swamps, the Guales and their minions were untouchable.
Part of him wanted to ride straight back there to see Jackie. just to be sure the Butcher or any of the others have gotten to her. Even if he did, the Bastard would have protected him. He said in his prayers that night that if he returned to Ruska and found Jackie violated, he would kill them both: the Bastard and the Butcher.
The question again came up in their group of how such men could exist, how the gods could allow them to exist.
"If all men were good," Kruger spoke, "then the gods would be awfully bored. If all men were good, we would not need these," he held up his spear, "and we would be able to just pass our lives in the field until we die of old age."
"Tell you the truth, that sounds frightfully boring," Wallis said and the others nodded in agreement
"Maybe it is what the gods intended," Jergan said, "But that life is just too boring for us."
"Yeah. Apparently we can't go through life without killing at least one man."
"But the Gods made us," Daren pointed out, "So wouldn't they be to blame for our violent behavior."
"That's a question for the priests and the philosophers," Jergan said. Living the last five years of his life around nobles and their ladies made him underestimate how bright the common folk could be, when they aren't worried about crop yields or impending armies.
"Well, I'm too tired to be philosophizing anything right now," Daren said as he lay down on his bed spread.
"Aye, we got miles to walk and a battle to fight," Wallis agreed. When he finished stretching his arms. he lay back on his own bed spread to sleep the night away.
"I'm going back to my father," Jergan stood up fro their little circle around the fire, "I'll see you all tomorrow."
Even before he left, Kruger had noticed something up with Jergan when they mentioned the Bastards. He stood up as well and followed him for a ways.
"Hey Jergan, is everything alright?" he asked as he came up beside the young knight.
Jergan gave him a confused look, "Why?"
"You seem worried about something."
"No shit. We're about to go into battle against tens of thousands of Morcars."
"Is there anything else?"
"I'm fine Kruger," hints of annoyance were in the young knights voice This made Kruger only more curious.
"What's bothering you?"
Jergan stopped. As he breathed in deeply he figured there was no way to make him go away, so he turned and spoke, "When the Bastard Brigade moved through Ruska, I'm worried that they hurt Jackie."
"Why would you be worried about that?" with a grin on his face that Jergan could not understand.
"You know what some of those men are! They could have killed her or worse."
"Jackie can look after herself, Jergan! There's no need to worry."
"She can look after herself when some drunk is trying to sneak in a pinch, but these men would..." Jergan could not finish.
"With respect, Sir Jergan," Kruger rebuked as he placed a reassuring hand on Jergan's shoulder, "I've been around Jackie more than yourself in the last five years and believe me when I say she can look after herself."
"Kruger, you need to listen to me," Jergan asserted, "You're never been outside of Ruska. I've seen more of the world than you and the kind of men who inhabit it."
"You think just because you've spent time in that school of yours you know how the world works?" Kruger himself was getting aggressive.
"I know that I have seen more of it than you have. And I know that Jackie or any of you would not be prepared for it if it came marching onto our lands. Especially something like the Bastard Brigade."
"We've had our share of scum in Ruska, Jergan."
"But never a whole army of them! Every night I have the urge to ride back there to make sure she's okay. Sure she can take care of herself, but no one can encounter people like them unmarked."
A realization suddenly came to Kruger, and he grinned from ear-to-ear "You love her."
Jergan's look of surprise almost made Kruger fall over laughing, "Love her? I've only seen her once in five years!"
"Yeah, but I saw her follow you into the woods the night before we left!" Jergan felt all of his defenses crumble, "Mother of Rannos, you fucked her didn't you!" he said gleefully, "By the gods we always thought you were a glum person Jergan, but looks like you've got some life in you after all!"
Jergan rolled his eyes and left Kruger to go spread the rumor around that the son of Rengle Fallaner had fallen in love with a tavern singer. his father knew about the romp in the woods, but he saw it as nothing but a young man's urges getting the best of him. But maybe it was something else Jergan felt for Jackie. He did not have the same fear for his friends who were riding off to meet the Morcars that he had for the girl in the Ironwall Inn. How could he not? They were the ones literally heading towards a deadly threat, whilst the threat to Jackie passed by more than a month ago. Why was he not scared for them? They were his dearest friends. This was likely going to keep him up tonight instead of the Bastards. What if he had fallen in love with her? Would Rengle allow it? He greatly desire to expand the prestige of the Fallaner name. Unfortunately, falling in love with what some would see as a tavern wench is not an ideal way to achieve that goal.
The cold winter nights continued to do not favors for the army. For the poor footmen of Forthren and Royal Land, their days were spent marching over hard, frosted dirt in clouds of their own visible breath. The winds were growing stronger, and the titans were getting so large that the space between them were becoming wind tunnels. The food was getting rarer and more detestable. One night, Malek found what appeared to be black mounds of mold at the bottom of his bowl. The mere sight of it made him nearly vomit out hi dinner. He and the other two were sitting with the Fallaner men, save for Daren and Gordon.
The Forthren and Royal Landers were at the center of Tauron's column. At the front was the brukalil, and in the back were the Userian Mercenaries and whatever Westlanders had decided to follow them. Malek could not imagine what it must be like for those poor bastards, the Userians. They were used t the hot sun of the south. Now they were in the middle of a dark, freezing wood at the turn of winter. It must be such a culture shock for them.
"Greetings," Daren suddenly appeared out of the shadows and sat down at their fire. Kruger and Wallis greeted him as did Malek's people. Gordon appeared as well, and Malek noticed that both were carrying heavy-looking sacks. When asked what was in them, he smiled and opened them. He took out fresh bread and vegetables. The faces of everyone lit up brighter than the fire t the sight of decent food. Even Malek devoured his loaf as eagerly as a child devours sweets.
"I thought I'd die if I had to go one more day without edible food," even Terrell managed to get a smile.
"Where did you get it?" Kruger asked.
"Nicked it from a farm house," Gordon said under his breath so that only those around the fire could hear. Upon hearing that, the smiles faded. Malek looked down at the half-eaten loaf in his hand like it was an explosive.
"You did what?"
"Took it from a farmhouse."
"You stole this food?" Eve threw her food on the ground in fury.
"We didn't hurt no one!" Gordon exclaimed, "We need it far more than any Westlander!"
"Aye. We're freezing our asses off out here and half the army has run to Rainguard to fight their battles. I believe we are entitled to a little bit of bread," Daren agreed.
"But to steal it?"
"So what if we steal it? Why should they sit in their houses why we freeze out here. If the Prince had any sense of fairness, he'd have the Westlanders quarter us."
"That would create nothing but problems," Malek said, unsure if this would lead to them thinking he was more than just another of the uneducated rabble.
"And are you suddenly an expert on armies, old man?"
"What would you do if soldiers suddenly broke into your home and began eating your food and sleeping in your bread?"
"If they were coming to defend my country, I'd show them some damn respect!"
"Daren," Kruger was shaking his head. The bread tasted dirty in his mouth as if a sickly substance was mixed into it when if was tossed and heated.
"You'll understand in time. All of you will. You will understand that this is what we'll have to do to stay alive. Winter will be upon us and their will be no new food until Rathas bids it springtime."
"I highly doubt that Baron Rengle will see it that way, boy," lowering his voice, a spark of panic set in Daren and Gordon eyes. One of them went to his belt and drew a knife. Gordon held it towards Malek, the flames reflecting of the blade.
"You say a word and I'll kill you."
Terrell was about to go to his feet until Malek's hand held him down, all the time a new intensity was in the old man's eyes. Neither Eve nor Terrell had ever seen the look in the man's eye, and it shook them to their core. It must have scared Daren and Gordon too, for Gordon put the knife away and began to move away from the fire.
"You go ahead and tell. Half the men in camp are doing it and if they find a snitch amongst them, they'll cut your throat in your sleep.
Malek's dark green eyes never left the thieving soldier until him and his accomplice were scurrying off to find space at another fire, taking their stolen rations with them.
Kruger and Wallis continued to sit there not saying anything. That little campfire was silent for the next hour until the two Ruska men decided to go to bed. It was then only Eve, Malek and Terrell around the fire.
"So what do we do with this information," Malek asked them as if he already knew the answer and was hoping that they would as well. Just to make things easier.
"I'm tempted to cut that bastard's throat in his sleep. Who does he think he is threatening us like that?" it was clear that Terrell was furious and insulted. If Malek had not stopped him, their might have been blood spilt before anyone in the army saw a single Morcar.
"Rengle Fallaner must deal out justice to these men."
"So we're going to tell him?"
"Not directly. Leave this to me. I'll get word to Lord Rengle."
The next morning, the Prince received a visit from the Lord of Carel Keep. They sat over a morning pot tea, the most noble of a drink available to them at that time.
"You don't strike me as a man who would come to breakfast without any purpose," Tauron pointed out as they both began finishing their cups, "What must you discuss with me?"
"It has reached my attention that soldiers have been looting surrounding farms and hamlets and stealing food and valuables. Some of which from my own army."
Ordinarily, the Prince would be furious, but the long months of stressful travel has left little anger for him to spare. And so he simply asked, "And why have you come to me about this?"
"When we catch them, what shall we do with them?"
The Prince shrugged, "Punish them accordingly."
"I intend to do so. I am simply asking what kind of punishments should be administered. Forgive me when I say that when I served under your father he had little time for this kind of trouble and therefore looting was rampant as we pursued the Corasians after the battle."
Tauron had never heard this side of the story of his father's glorious victory over the Corasians.
"And so, many of the lords came up with their own punishments for offenders. Some lax and some harsh. My own punishment was a three-strike system. The first offence would earn a flogging, the second the loss of a hand, and the third a rope. I am asking if you find my methods appropriate."
"They seem fair enough," the Prince said.
"And I ask that any Ruska men have justice dealt out to them by Ruska men."
"I permit it," the Prince agreed, "but it shall be in view of the whole army."
"Very well, my Prince," Rengle's business was done and he stood up to return to his camp.
"One more thing!" the Prince called, "If you catch any of the Bastard's men stealing hang them immediately. In a tree over their own camp."
Rengle was taken aback by the grim satisfaction the Prince seemed to get from giving that order, "I shall refer that command to the other Lords my Prince. Good morning."
The next day, Jergan Fallaner followed his father to a large clearing, where a large number of soldiers were gathering. Rengle said that something had to be done before they moved out today. It was not just Fallaner men who were there, but men from Forthren and a few from the Royal Lands judging by the uniforms.
"Jergan," Rengle turned to his son with grim eyes, "you may not like what you see here."
"What do you mean?"
Rengle did not respond, he only turned to address the soldiers.
"It has come to my attention, as I am sure it has come to yours, that some men in this army have been sneaking off in the night to steal food and materials from Westland peasants. This is a stain upon the honor of not only this army, but of all of Liticea. It is an egregious and cowardly thing to go and prey on the helpless like a band of brigands. And any man who is caught doing so will be treated as such. You are now about to witness what happens when you stain the honor of Prince Tauron and every man and woman in this army. Bring out the prisoners."
Three soldiers were dragged out of a tent shirtless, with their hands bound and a white bag over their head. One was a woman and two were men. The sight of the naked chest of the woman brought many hoots and cheers from the soldiers.
When they came out they had their bags removed and Jergan was shocked to see that one of them was Daren, one of those he ran through the fields with as a child. They were all forced against the side of a huge red titan, showing their bare backs to the army. A man with a whip then walked out and began to administer the punishment. Thirty lashes to each offender. Each of them were in tears by the end of it. Daren was crying the loudest, like he had when he had hurt himself while playing with Jergan and the others in the forests of Ruska. Jergan wanted to go over there and comfort him, but Rengle told him to come along. He dared not refuse his father in front of the men at this time.