“Excellent,” Kromen said, looking from Eli to Stiger. “How would you like the job? I have an absolutely terrible company that just became available. With your experience, you are perfect for working it into shape!”
Stiger was surprised he was being given a mission that would take him away so soon after arriving. Though marching with unfamiliar men into territory overrun by rebels was not a terribly appealing idea to the captain, his initial impressions of the legionary encampment led him to believe that such a march would be preferable to risking an untimely death by lingering sickness. He knew that the command he was being offered was most probably, as the general said, a truly terrible assignment. If the men had been idle for months, as he suspected they had, they would be sick, poorly equipped, and out of shape, and discipline would be lacking. So it all came down to risking potential death from slow, lingering sickness and disease or possible death by sword … Stiger intentionally drew out the silence, as if he were mulling it over. Surely there were other, more effective companies that could be more readily chosen. The two generals, he knew, were also making light of the assignment so that it seemed too easy … too good. That bothered Stiger, and he wanted to know why, but could not come right out and ask.
“I would need to outfit the company for a hard march into the wilderness,” Stiger said.
“You can draw anything you might require from supply,” Kromen responded, almost a little too quickly, which surprised Stiger.
What wasn’t he being told?
Stiger had known that his arrival might be a headache for General Kromen. Stiger’s family had influence. His presence here might be viewed as the attempt to place a spy within the Southern legions, a spy who was possibly reporting directly to the emperor or Kromen’s enemies in the senate.
“We need to open communications with Vrell,” Mammot added. “We can issue your company fresh arms and equipment. I will also assign some of our most experienced sergeants to help you work them into fighting trim.”
“Could I meet and approve the sergeants first?” Stiger asked. He had known some pretty terrible sergeants, from ass-kissers to sadistic bastards. Instead of being dismissed from the service, such men were frequently transferred from one unit to another.
“Of course,” Kromen said.
“How long until the supply train is ready?” Stiger asked, thinking about the training of his men. He needed time to become acquainted with them and to work them into shape. All legionaries received the same basic training. It was a matter of restoring discipline and finding out how rusty they had become.
“Two weeks,” Mammot said. “At least, we hope the train will arrive within two weeks, but certainly no more than four. It is due to leave from Aeda any day.”
“Good, that would give me some time,” Stiger said. He looked at General Kromen, thinking hard. “I would want to train the men my way, with no outside interference.”
“Acceptable,” General Kromen said with a deep frown. No general enjoyed being dictated to, especially by a young, impudent captain, even if he was a Stiger. Still … Kromen seemed to put up with it, and Stiger decided to push for more.
“That would involve training outside the encampment and living beyond the walls,” Stiger added. “I would need space to prepare the men … construction of a marching camp, route marches, arms training …”
“If you are willing to brave a rebel attack outside the protection of the walls, you can do whatever you flaming wish,” Kromen said, his dangerous tone betraying a mounting anger. “Anything else you require, captain?”
“No, sir,” Stiger said, pleased at having escaped the confines of the encampment so easily. In all likelihood, whatever he had been set up for would prove to be a real challenge. “I will take the job.”
“Very good.” General Kromen flashed an insincere smile. “Colonel Karol will arrange to have you introduced to your men. He will also see to outfitting your needs.” Kromen waved dismissively, indicating the audience was over.
Stiger saluted along with Colonel Karol. They turned and left, emerging onto the porch with Eli in tow. Stiger found Captain Handi resting in the same chair. The captain shot Stiger a look that spoke volumes. Doubtless Handi would be looking for ways to get his petty revenge. Stiger simply ignored him.
“You have a tough job ahead of you,” Karol admitted. “The men I am giving you are in truly terrible shape and have been poorly led. Their previous commander was executed for gross incompetence. His real crime, however, was excessive graft and insufficient … shall we say, sharing.”
“I have always enjoyed a challenge,” Stiger replied softly.
“Let us both hope this particular challenge does not kill you,” Karol responded. The colonel glanced to the side at the lounging officers toward Handi, who was aiming a smoldering glare at Stiger. “Captain Handi, be so good as to personally fetch Sergeants Blake and Ranl. They should be working over at my headquarters.”
“But, sir, it’s raining,” Handi protested, gesturing at the steady rainfall beyond the cover of the porch.
“I rather imagine that the emperor expects his legions to operate in all types of weather,” the colonel responded rather blandly. “Have them report on the double to the officers’ mess.”
Colonel Karol turned away and stepped out into the rain. He led them along the improvised boardwalk system toward another smaller ramshackle wooden building with a chimney billowing with soft blue-gray smoke.
“Wouldn’t want that spoiled bastard to get his fine boots muddy now, would we?” Karol asked once they were out of earshot. Stiger found himself beginning to like the colonel.
Chapter Two
The officers’ mess was packed with officers seeking shelter from the rain and an escape from the constant boredom of life at camp. The talking ceased as the three entered, with all eyes going toward Eli as he pulled back his hood.
The colonel led them to a table in the back near the fire and politely ordered the current occupants to find a new table. Stiger and Eli removed their traveling cloaks and hung them on hooks near the fire. Once seated, the drone of conversation at once picked up, with much whispering about the elf.
“We have a real problem,” Karol said quietly, so only they could hear. “This is the rainy season, and the legions are being eaten away by sickness and disease. It happens every year, but this year it is worse. This damned weather. It rains and rains. We’ve seen more than usual and, well, disease is sweeping through the ranks. Unfortunately, the enemy seems to know it. They are more active, and General Kromen expects the main rebel army to make a move as soon as the ground is firm. The rebels are becoming better armed and more aggressive by the day.
“It is possible,” Karol said after a slight pause, “that the Cyphan Confederacy has decided to move from supporting the rebellion to becoming more heavily involved.”
Stiger frowned at this. The Cyphan Confederacy was a trading power across the Narrow Sea to the south. Tensions between the empire and the confederacy had been on the rise ever since the empire pushed south forty years before and annexed the current lands that were now in open rebellion.
“The general has consolidated much of the power of the Southern legions here. Our allies, the auxiliaries, have been sent to man the forward outposts to the south that the legions once held. We were losing men to pinprick attacks. The consolidation was ordered to avoid losing any additional men to these attacks; however, we are now losing far more to sickness than we ever did to the enemy.”
Colonel Karol leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few moments before continuing. “I will not lie to you. I expect you will run into trouble on the way to Vrell. The legions, with the exception of a few cavalry patrols, have been confined to the encampment. This has given the rebels free reign in the countryside. I don’t think you will run into any real organized resistance. It is likely you will face nothing a good company could not handle. However, the last supply train that got through was hit hard. There are rebel sympathi
zers everywhere, and much starvation, which foments additional ill will toward the empire. Expect word to spread. Wagons full of supplies may be just too tempting a target.”
Stiger said nothing.
A female slave brought a tray of hot tea and some small rolls to the table. She sported multiple bruises and a black eye, which Stiger took to reflect the mood of the encampment. She poured each of them a cup of tea and left without a word.
“The company I am giving you is the Eighty-Fifth,” Colonel Karol said. “They just came in from a border outpost within the last week. Unlike the other companies that have been camped here longer, they are not yet incapacitated with sickness. I appointed Lieutenant Ikely to temporary command until a suitable replacement could be found. He is new as well, with no real experience, but seems to be a good man. He will make a good executive officer for you, I think.”
“I see,” Stiger said, taking a polite sip of his tea, which was terrible. He grimaced with disgust. Eli had not touched his and looked reproachfully at his captain. Stiger decided that he would refrain from having more. There was no telling where the water had come from, and with the condition of the camp, it could easily be diseased.
“I have removed the company’s sergeants,” Karol explained. “The two I sent for are veterans. They are among my best and should be able to help you rebuild a proper company.”
Stiger took that to mean he could not reject them, no matter what Kromen had agreed to. Should he protest to the general, Stiger would likely make an enemy of Karol, who seemed to sincerely want to help. Stiger simply nodded, knowing that he was now stuck with the two sergeants, for good or ill.
“You can promote anyone else within the company you wish. It is yours to do with as you like.”
“Yes, sir,” Stiger said. “Do you have any detailed maps of the countryside between the encampment and Vrell?”
Karol nodded. “I will speak to General Mammot and arrange to have a set of maps sent to you.” He looked sourly down at his own tea, which he had yet to touch. “You can ask for anything reasonable you may require from the depots.”
“Written orders to that effect may help, sir,” Stiger suggested hopefully. He had encountered more than one supply officer who believed his job was to accumulate supplies rather than distribute them.
“Your formal orders should be arriving from General Kromen shortly,” Colonel Karol said. “If there is one thing the general does efficiently, it is the delivery of formal orders. That said, I will send you an amended set later this evening, authorizing you to requisition anything from the supply depots you reasonably require. Will that be sufficient?”
“Entirely.” Stiger was very satisfied. At least he should not want for supply.
The door opened and two sergeants entered. Once again, the conversation stopped. Several of the officers nearest the entrance looked as if they were about to protest in outrage. This was officer country, and a refuge from the brutes. Colonel Karol called for the two sergeants to join him, and with that, any potential protest died. They approached the table and snapped to attention.
“Sergeants Blake and Ranl, I would like to introduce your new commanding officer, Captain Stiger,” Karol announced. Conversation in the mess erupted at the mention of Stiger, with many officers turning to get a better look. Karol shot them an irritated look.
The two sergeants were older men, both in their late thirties. They had the quiet look and an air of competence that came from hard service. They appeared tough old salts and showed no emotion at being introduced to a Stiger.
“I am transferring you both to the Eighty-Fifth,” Colonel Karol said. “You are to help whip the men into shape.”
The two sergeants said nothing, but continued to stand at attention.
Colonel Karol turned to Stiger. “They can show you to your new company. Questions?”
Stiger had some, but decided not to ask anything at this time. He would need to get to know Colonel Karol better before probing for answers. Besides, there were too many interested parties in the mess.
“No, sir,” Stiger responded. “I believe I have all I need at the moment.”
“Very well … I will leave you to them, Captain. Congratulations on your new command. I wish you the best of luck. Oh, and welcome to the Twenty-Ninth Legion.” With that, Colonel Karol stood. Stiger and Eli politely stood as well. Karol nodded slightly, then turned and left without another word.
“Please sit,” Stiger said, resuming his place at the table. The two sergeants sat as directed. They showed no discomfort at sitting at a table in the officers’ mess with a Stiger and an elf. Perhaps the colonel had given him good men after all. Based on how he had handled Captain Handi, the colonel definitely did not seem the sort to tolerate fools. “This is Lieutenant Eli’Far. Have either of you served with the High Born?”
“Aye, sir,” Sergeant Blake admitted in a rough voice. “Both of us served in the Wilds, with the Able Legion.”
Stiger nodded, pleased. Among the legions, the campaign in the Wilds was the stuff of legend, having taken place a little over twenty years ago. The elves had joined the empire for the campaign. It was the last time the nations of the High Born had fought alongside humans before retreating within their own borders. It had been a very difficult campaign, nearly shattering those legions that had been involved. If these men had survived that ordeal, they were likely very good and, more importantly, had had their share of hard experience.
“Do you know the Eighty-Fifth?” Eli asked.
“Aye, sir,” Ranl admitted, a sour expression crossing his face. “We were asked to look them over. They are a terrible bunch. Discipline is awful and they have lost their self-respect.”
“Well, the Eighty-Fifth is now ours,” Stiger growled. “We are going to reform them.”
The sergeants said nothing. They did not look terribly thrilled.
“Can both of you write and manipulate numbers?” Stiger asked.
“We both can,” Sergeant Blake confirmed.
“Who is better with numbers?”
“That would be Ranl, sir,” Sergeant Blake said quickly, nodding at the other sergeant. Ranl shot Blake a half-mocking sour look. Stiger could tell both men were old comrades and good friends.
“Ranl, you will keep the company books,” Stiger ordered.
“I was afraid of that, sir,” Sergeant Ranl said with a lopsided smile. “I was cursed with an affinity to numbers.”
“We will go see the men,” Stiger continued. “I want the company packed to march as soon as possible. We will be leaving the encampment today.”
“Today?” Blake asked, obviously surprised. “Sir, it is already mid-afternoon and will be dark by the time we can get them organized to leave.”
“We are leaving,” Stiger said firmly, lowering his voice so only those at the table could hear. “This encampment is a deathtrap. I think we will be safer outside it than in.”
Blake and Ranl shared a rapid look before Blake nodded in agreement.
“Some friendly advice, sir … I would avoid the water if I were you.” He gestured at the tea on the table, a look of disgust crossing his face. “Drinking that is sure to give you the green apple quick step.”
The conversation abruptly ceased once again as the door banged open loudly. All heads turned to see Captain Handi enter, a stormy expression on his face. The staff captain briefly scanned the officers in the mess until he found Stiger.
He stalked over. “Your orders,” he hissed, acid in his voice. He threw a sealed envelope down upon the table, then turned and left the officers’ mess without another word. Stiger noticed that the pampered captain was dripping wet, and his once perfectly polished boots were covered in mud and muck. The hum of conversation resumed with more animation. Camp life was tedious and any drama, no matter how petty, helped to alleviate the boredom.
As they watched the pompous captain leave, Ranl flashed an evil smile. “I do believe I might enjoy serving under your command, sir,” he said.
“Right,” Stiger responded, scooping up the orders and standing. He would study them later. “Let’s go see the men.”
The men were not particularly impressive. Paraded for review, they were standing before their tents, clearly miserable under a steady downpour. Their current misery was a secondary concern for the captain. The sooner they all got out of the encampment, the better.
Stiger had just finished introducing himself and explaining his expectations, which he considered simple. In short: honor, courage, and loyalty to both unit and empire. They were the watchwords by which Stiger lived his life, and he would communicate them by example and force of will alone if necessary.
Lieutenant Ikely was standing beside him, clearly nervous at having abruptly learned that he would be under the command of a Stiger. The lieutenant was a young man, fit, with close-cropped, sandy-blond hair. He had a pleasant and positive air about him that contrasted starkly with the other officers in the encampment. Since the lieutenant was also new, perhaps he had simply not had time to become jaded. Or it may have been youthful optimism and excitement at his first posting.
Stiger was familiar with the Ikely family. A loyal and honorable house, though they lacked the prestige of senatorial rank. Not formidable enough to be powerbrokers themselves, the Ikelys were clients of the Agadow family, which made them a loosely tied ally to the Stigers, and not a direct enemy. Stiger was lucky in that respect. Having a member of a rival family as his second might have complicated things a bit.
“Sergeant Blake,” Stiger called gruffly. He had thought about adding to his comments, but decided against it. There would be time for additional words later. It was time to leave.
“Sir?” Blake responded, turning toward his captain. The men wore their helmets, which kept their faces and hair reasonably dry in the rain.
“Break down the tents and gather up the mule train.”
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