\hypertarget{chapter-17-aplomb}{%
\chapter{Aplomb}\label{chapter-17-aplomb}}



\epigraph{``In war, begin as you would end.''}{Marshal Nim}



\emph{No campfires tonight -- it would give away their location too
easily, not that Seneca's dogs weren't already on the trail. Ranker's
goblins were proving invaluable in keeping an eye on how closely the
High Lord's household troops were following them, her small warriors
made light of foot and hard to find by years of raiding the other
tribes. The enemy had somehow managed to block Apprentice's scrying,
something the dark-skinned man told Squire meant they likely had a mage
of more than middling talent with them. The green-eyed man had expected
as much: Seneca's pockets ran deep and so far he hadn't proved shy about
shelling out the gold to see this little company of theirs dead. The
High Lord was the Chancellor's creature to the bone. They were six
hundred strong now that Ranker had joined them, the raiders of the
Blackfoot tribe coming to swell the ranks of Red Shields and Grem's
Howling Wolves. Not even half a Legion, but it would grow in time. If
they survived the night.}

\emph{``I don't like the odds on this one, Squire,'' Grem grunted from
his side.}

\emph{The one-eyed orc was chewing on what looked like dried meat,
sitting on a rocky outcropping.}

\emph{``We've got as many warriors on the field as they do,'' Istrid
replied with a hard look. ``If we run when we're this close to our
backyard, One-Eye, we'll never live it down.''}

\emph{``We'll still be living, at least, which isn't guaranteed if we
give battle,'' the scarred chieftain of the Howling Wolves told her.
``Numbers might be even, but a third of our number is goblins. That
changes things -- no offense meant, Ranker.''}

\emph{``None taken,'' the small yellow-eyed Matron replied, her tone
flat. ``I'm inclined to agree with you, if anything. A High Lord's
personal retinue is not something to trifle with.''}

\emph{``And yet we're going to crush it,'' Squire said, and though his
voice was calm there was something about it that gave all of them
pause.}

\emph{The man's pale skin made him look like a ghost in the moonlight,
his armoured silhouette casting shadows against the rocks. He looked up
at the stars while he played with the clay ball he'd appropriated
earlier, feeling the weight of the gaze of the followers he'd assembled
settling on him. Apprentice laughed quietly, a grin that was all malice
stretching his full lips.}

\emph{``You have a plan, of course,'' the mage spoke up. ``So go on, my
friend, amaze us with your latest bout of madness. Are we going to argue
with a dragon again? I have to say, that was one of my favourites.''}

\emph{``Good thing it wasn't a long conversation,'' Cursed tacked on in
that matter-of-fact way of hers. ``I didn't like the way it was looking
at me.''}

\emph{Squire scowled. They had nothing to complain about, it had worked
out perfectly fine in the end.}

\emph{``All of you are here because you want to change things,'' he told
them instead. ``The Empire is the culmination of over a millennium of
defeats -- time after time we try the same plans with new faces, somehow
expecting that this once it will be different. That this once, we'll
beat them, bring down the king and scatter the knights and send the
wizard packing back to his tower. Aren't you tired of losing? I know I
am, and I've just begun.''}

\emph{He met their eyes one by one, gaze unflinching.}

\emph{``It's always going to be this way, you know,'' he told them.
``One uphill battle after another, the odds stacked against us a little
worse every time. If we give them a fair fight, we'll lose -- it's as
simple as that.''}

\emph{The green-eyed man smiled, and it was a wicked thing.}

\emph{``So let's cheat,'' he said, lazily throwing up the clay ball and
catching it. ``There's a new age coming, and we're going to drag them
into it -- kicking and screaming, if necessary.''}

\emph{A handful of grim smiles was his answer, and somewhere in the back
of his head he felt Fate laughing. Let it. He'd be the one to get the
last laugh.}

\emph{``You want a plan, Apprentice?'' he said. ``We're going to play
with fire.''}

My eyes blinked open wearily, the sight of my tent's ceiling greeting my
return to consciousness. No light was filtering through the slit in the
goat skin walls, meaning I'd once more woken up before dawn. The bed
felt empty without Kilian in it. We'd been together for less than a
month, and already I missed the intimacy of a warm body by my side
whenever deprived of it. I slipped out of my bedroll and pushed myself
up to my feet, padding across the ground to reach for the carafe of
water someone -- Hakram, most likely -- I had left on my bedside table.
I poured myself a cup, downing the liquid in a single gulp to shake
myself completely awake. Unlike with regular dreams there was no need to
be afraid that the memory of the one I'd just had would become less
clear with time: I knew from experience it was as good as branded into
my mind. I'd be able to examine it at my leisure afterwards. And there
were quite a few tidbits to examine, weren't there? They clay ball that
the younger version of my teacher had been playing with was the easiest
detail to figure out: they were standard issue in the Legions now,
filled with goblinfire.

The Fifteenth had been issued half a wagonload before we'd left Ater,
and I knew that Ratface had gone behind my back and traded some of our
extra rations for more. How exactly he'd managed that I had no idea.
Supply requisitions were a bureaucratic nightmare even when the Legions
\emph{weren't} on an active campaign, so likely bribery had been
involved. Hakram had been right: Ratface might be a middling tactician
at best, but when it came to securing supplies he had a way of getting
results. I'd have to call my wayward quartermaster out on it at some
point, of course, even though I rather approved of the initiative -- we
needed firepower more than we needed the extra rations they'd replaced.
But it wouldn't do to let him get into the habit of doing things like
this, not without running them by me first. \emph{Better I deal with it
than delegate the job to Juniper. I don't want to quash his initiative
entirely.}

``Squire,'' a familiar voice gravelled from outside my tent, ``you
decent?''

I rolled my eyes at that. For an orc, Hakram had surprisingly genteel
notions about propriety. The orphanage I'd been raised it had been
crowded enough that being half-naked in front of people I was unfamiliar
with left me indifferent. Anyhow, with spring not yet in full swing this
part of Callow got chilly at night -- I always went to sleep dressed,
since claiming wood to start a personal fire struck me as something of a
waste.

``I'm wearing pants, if that's what you're asking,'' I replied, somewhat
amused.

``I suppose that will have to do,'' Adjutant grunted back, slipping
inside the tent.

His appearance hadn't really changed since the night he'd fully come
into his Name: he was still one of the tallest orcs I'd ever met, taller
than Nauk even if he wasn't as broad-shouldered. Dark green skin and
dark eyes, with a small scar on his right cheek he'd told me was from a
hunting accident when he'd been a youngling. Most of the changes had
been mental -- he'd been calm since the moment I'd first met him, but
ever since he'd become the Adjutant he'd become positively serene. Like
he knew exactly where he was meant to be, and was standing in that very
place. I envied that, in some ways. Certainty was not a luxury someone
in my position could afford.

``Shouldn't you be sleeping?'' I asked as he gravitated towards the
fold-up chair closest to me.

``Don't need as much sleep anymore,'' he told me.

Huh. I hadn't known Roles could do that -- I'd noticed fairly early
after claiming my Name that I could have a sleepless night and function
anyway, but that wasn't the same thing. I was just better at dealing
with tiredness than the average mortal, I still needed a good night's
sleep to be at my best. Captain and Black had been the same, from what
I'd noticed. And as for Scribe\ldots{} well, I wasn't actually sure
Scribe ever slept. I'd never seen her idle once in all the months I'd
known her.

``Had another of those dreams, have you?'' Hakram asked me with a
knowing look.

I raised an eyebrow.

``How can you tell?''

``You always look like you've been given an answer and twice as many
questions, afterwards,'' he replied.

A fair enough assessment, I had to concede. The dreams that came with my
Role tended to be relevant to what I was doing at the time, though
admittedly the chronology of them could be a little tricky. I hadn't
seen Ranger or Scribe in any of them, for example, and I was pretty sure
the Heir was still alive in the period I'd just glimpsed.

``I believe I just saw the birth of the Legions of Terror as we know
them,'' I admitted after a moment of silence.

Hakram blinked in surprise, then let out a low whistle.

``You saw the Battle of the Burning Cliffs? They still tell stories
about it, you know,'' he said.

``They do?'' I replied, surprised in turn.

The battle hadn't seemed like as big of a deal as the people behind it,
to be honest, but then Captain had warned me more than once that things
had been very different in the Empire before the Reforms.

``It's how Knightsbane and One-Eye got the Clans to back the Black
Knight in the first place,'' Hakram told me. ``A High Lord's household
troops wiped out to the last man in a single night? It was unheard of.
If they could do that with two warbands, everyone wanted to see what
they could do with twenty -- or a hundred.''

I let out a thoughtful noise.

``Didn't actually see any of the battle,'' I admitted, ``just the
moments before it. It was enough to make me think.''

``Now there's words to send a shiver up a warrior's spine,'' my Adjutant
murmured. ``Think about what?''

``They all wanted something, and they started following Black because he
was the best way to get it,'' I said. ``So what do the people who follow
\emph{me} want?''

Pouring myself a second cup of water, I reached to do the same for him
but he shook his head.

``Juniper wants to be the next Marshal,'' I told Hakram. ``Nauk wants a
war. Masego mostly wants to see interesting things and Ratface wants his
father's head on a pike. I don't know Hune or Pickler well enough to
even guess.''

``Pickler wants to test all the designs she's been fiddling with since
she was a kid,'' Hakram gravelled. ``Hune, I have no idea. She doesn't
have any friends that I know of, and she kept a low profile even back at
the College.''

I sipped at my glass. Too many questions, too few answers. I needed to
get a better read on my officers before making any sort of move, and I
was starting to run out of time. I needed to be ready by the time the
Liesse Rebellion ended, and Black had told me we had a hard limit on
that. Dawn's first rays were starting to poke through my tent's
entrance, and in silence the two of us got started with our day. There
was work to do, as always.

---

It had rained during the night.

The ford Juniper had picked out as our way across the river had swelled
to knee-deep, with a current that could be tricky to manoeuvre. Still,
it would have to do: the only bridge across the Left Fork had been
destroyed and my scouts had been reporting more and more sighting of
horsemen keeping an eye on us. We were getting close to the Silver
Spears, and I had no intention of allowing them to dig in behind the
walls of Marchford. I allowed the rest of the troops enough of break to
fill up their canteens and rest their legs as First Company started to
cross, climbing down from Zombie gingerly as they did. Massaging my
legs, I allowed myself a discreet grimace after making sure no one was
looking in my direction.

``You regretting that fancy horse now, Callow?'' the voice came from
behind me, and I turned to offer Nauk a half-hearted glare.

``Is that any way to talk to a superior officer, Commander?'' I replied,
rolling my eyes at the wide grin I got for my trouble.

The spectacularly large orc had continued to call me ``Callow'' even
after my Name had become common knowledge, though he'd dropped the
military rank when we'd finished with the War College. It wasn't a mark
of disrespect, Hakram had assured me -- if anything Nauk was one of my
more fervent supporters among the Fifteenth -- so I'd never seen the
need to take issue with it. Besides, watching Juniper get on his case
for lack of decorum was always good for a laugh.

``We got any word from Robber and his minions?'' he asked as he plopped
himself down on a half-soaked log close to me.

I frowned, shaking my head. I'd told Commander Hune to send a line of
scouts across the ford half a bell ago to see if there were any nasty
surprises ahead, and they were about due to report. The three muddy
hills the crossing led into made it hard to get a good look at what was
ahead, besides the thick woods that flanked either side of the road.
Keeping eyes ahead would be key here: the Silver Spears were heavy on
cavalry, and they could move about a lot faster than we could.

``Hellhound on the trail,'' Nauk grunted suddenly, and I glanced in the
direction he was leaning his head towards.

Juniper was headed in our direction, Masego and Hakram at her sides. As
usual the grim-faced legate walked like she had been blessed with a
higher purpose, eyes always sweeping around her to look for any flaws in
our legionaries' kit. I watched as she stopped to chew out a
dark-skinned girl for having strapped her sword-belt incorrectly,
suppressing a smile when Hakram rolled his eyes behind her. Moments
later Juniper was standing in front of me, offering a cursory salute
before starting to speak.

``I had the heavies set up in front of the ford in case the enemy
decides to pay us a surprise visit,'' my Commander said, skipping the
polite small talk. ``We also have a picket at our back in case they've
managed to find another way across the river.''

I let out a noise of approval. It was satisfying to see that the girl
who'd played us like a fiddle during the College war games was still as
sharp now that we were in a real campaign.

``We'll need to cross soon regardless of whether Robber's back or not,''
I told her. ``There's only so much daylight we can afford to waste if we
want to keep up with the Spears.''

``Agreed,'' she grunted back. ``Though we should be careful: he might be
late because he's run into the enemy.''

Neither of us needed to spell out that if that were the case there was
no need to expect Robber back at all. If his scouts had been caught on
foot by a mounted patrol, there was only one way that engagement could
reasonably be expected to go. Scouts weren't sappers: they did not carry
enough munitions on them to stop horsemen for long.

``Send another tenth ahead to see if they're coming back,'' I decided
after a moment. ``We get moving right after.''

She nodded, snapped off another salute and headed off to see it done.

``I hope you don't also expect me to salute,'' Masego drawled. ``I have
a medical condition that makes it next to impossible.''

I raised an eyebrow.

``Is it the same disease that makes you think you're funny?'' I asked

``Ah, it's a cruel woman that leads us my friend,'' the dark-skinned boy
told Hakram, dramatically laying a hand over his heart.

Adjutant grinned.

``Were you talking again, warlock's get? I tend to tune out the
background noise.''

Masego's brows rose.

``And here I thought you were just a good listener. Truly, my life is a
comedy of errors,'' he commented. ``And speaking of my failings, Squire,
I'm afraid that my scrying still won't go through.''

``Wizard or priest, you think?'' I asked.

``Priest, I'd put my hand to fire on it,'' he grimaced. ``That could get
tricky when we give battle -- some of them can have magic slide right
off of them if they want it to.''

``As long as knives still work, we'll be able to deal with the
problem,'' I muttered absent-mindedly.

It was becoming clear that Black had sent me after a bigger fish than
I'd thought. Just their numbers in cavalry with a Named hero at their
head would have been bad enough, but if they had casters too they would
a force to be reckoned with. Not that my legion was without teeth when
it came to that aspect of warfare. We had a fairly decent mage
contingent -- led by a very cuddly redhead -- and Apprentice was worth
another twenty mages by himself . I'd yet to see anyone match the likes
of the ice spell he'd used in Summerholm. In the distance I could see
the Fifteenth shaking itself awake from its rest, Juniper sending the
heavies across the ford while the sapper companies slung their munition
haversacks back across their shoulders. I eyed my still-saddled horse
with a sigh.

---

The better part of an hour passed before we got word back from the
scouts.

The last of Hune's companies was halfway through the ford, the rest of
the Fifteenth splayed over the hills in a wide arc. Standing on top of
the tallest of the hilltops, right by the standard, I'd been in the
middle of a discussion with Hakram about the night's camping site when
movement by the north side of the woods drew my attention. The party
we'd sent to find out what had happened to scouts emerged from the
trees, a handful of dishevelled goblins among them. I felt my stomach
drop: I could only see a few from the original line I'd sent, and it
looked like no one else was coming. Robber went straight for the
standard, ignoring the murmurs in the rank and file as he made his way
towards me as far as he could. I wasn't the only one to see him,
apparently: Juniper was by my side in a matter of moments, and before
the goblin tribune made it to the top of the hill Nauk and Masego had
already joined us. I would have preferred Hune being here too, but she
was personally supervising the company that had yet to join us.

My fingers tightened when I got a closer look at the tribune: Robber
looked like he'd been rolling through a pile of brambles and dead
animals, which wasn't all that unusual, but the barely-restrained panic
in his eyes was another story. The goblin thrived on chaos -- the only
times I'd even seen him in a truly good mood was when he was about to
spring a vicious trap on someone. It would have been enough to make most
people wary of him, but I had a handle on the way Robber's mind worked:
as long as I gave him someone else to focus his malevolence on, he'd
never be \emph{my} problem. Given how many enemies I'd managed to
accumulate in my short tenure as Squire, I rather doubted it would ever
become an issue. I let him catch his breath for a moment before speaking
up.

``Tribune,'' I prompted. ``Report.''

``We're fucked,'' he grunted, wiping blood off his cheek.

He added a hasty ``ma'am'' at the end of the sentence after seeing the
look on Juniper's face.

``It's good to see war has left your usual good cheer unaffected,'' I
replied flatly. ``But I'm going to need more detail than that.''

He ran a still-bloodied hand on top of his hairless head, either not
noticing or not caring about the black trails he left on it.

``We found your mercs easy enough,'' Robber spoke. ``Problem was, they
also found us.''

I grimaced. There was really only one explanation for why he would have
come back with four men when I'd sent him out with a full line, but
still I'd\ldots{} hoped.

``Where are they?'' I asked.

There'd be time to feel guilty about sending those legionaries to their
death later. Until then, all I could do was make use of the information
they'd given their lives for to make sure the same didn't happen to the
rest of my legion.

``About half an hour away,'' the yellow-eyed lieutenant said. ``And
Boss\ldots{} I don't know where you got your info on their roster from,
but it's way off. The two thousand foot is there, but Clapper said she
counted at least eight hundred horse. Maybe more.''

I let out a curse at that, and from the look on everyone's faces it was
a shared opinion. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, running through my
options. Was it feasible to retreat back across the river? \emph{No, not
if they're this close.} It would be disastrous if the Fifteenth got
caught while it was spread between the two banks.

``They planned this,'' Juniper soberly said, breaking me out of my
thoughts. ``They were waiting for us to cross so they could force an
engagement with our backs to the river.''

Masego cleared his throat daintily.

``As the only one here who hasn't had military training, might I inquire
as to why exactly that's making everyone look so grim?'' he asked.

``If they hit our lines hard enough -- which they definitely have the
numbers for -- they'll be pushing us into the river one step at at
time,'' Hakram told him. ``That would be\ldots{} bad.''

The dark-skinned mage's face retained its pleasant smile, but I could
see it had gotten a little too stiff. Apprentice might not have been an
officer, but you didn't have to be one to grasp Adjutant had been
understating things.

``Go get yourself healed, Robber,'' I finally said. ``We'll need anyone
who can hold a sword for this one.''

He looked dead on his feet and odds are it had come close to being more
than a look. The green-skinned sapper saluted, but when he met my eyes I
saw there was something lurking under the fear I'd glimpsed earlier. He
was furious, the kind of vicious fury that twists your stomach until it
bubbles up to your face.

``You gonna get them for this, Callow?'' he asked.

Juniper was halfway to hoisting up by the scruff of his neck, the
expression on her face thunderous, when I raised a hand to stop her in
her tracks.

``I promise you this much, Robber,'' I told him. ``They'll pay the long
price before the day is done.''

Whatever it was he was looking for in my eyes, he found it.

``Good,'' he murmured with a hard nod.

I watched him scuttle down the hill for a moment before turning my
attention to Juniper, who looked like she was only barely managing to
refrain herself from speaking. \emph{I thought we'd already taken care
of that.}

``I gave you permission to speak freely when the Fifteenth was formed,''
I told her. ``I don't remember taking that back.''

The legate bared her teeth, and from the corner of my eye I saw Masego
discreetly taking a step back. Wise man, Masego.

``There's a reason we have ranks, Squire,'' Juniper growled. ``You let
them talk like that to you every time their buddies die and the
authority breaks down. He's not your friend, he's your soldier. Soldiers
die, \emph{it's what they do}.''

Nauk looked about to speak up but Hakram caught his eye and shook his
head. Good. His little feud with Robber had been amusing back at the
College, but out here I had no patience for it.

``If I wanted to run a regular legion,'' I said, ``you'd be right. As it
happens, I have no interest in running a regular legion.''

The tall orc opened her mouth, but I pressed on.

``Regular legions don't win battles like the one that's coming, Juniper.
And this isn't the last time we'll be facing odds like these. You think
Black raised the Fifteenth because we needed the manpower? We're going
to be the tip of the spear in this war. And the next. And the one after
that,'' I spoke flatly. ``If Robber ever oversteps his bounds with me,
it's not you he'll have to be afraid of -- you can be sure of that. But
what I want out of all of you, I'm not going to get it by flogging
people who look me in the eye.''

``Hear hear,'' Hakram spoke softly from my side.

There was a long, tense moment and then Juniper inclined her head.

``My apologies, Lady Squire. I spoke out of turn,'' she said.

``You spoke honestly,'' I replied. ``And you need to keep on doing it.
I'm not going to be right every time, and when I'm wrong I'll be relying
on you to point it out to me.''

I'd known from the beginning that there would be times when Juniper and
I rubbed each other the wrong way. And yet there'd been a reason that it
was her I'd wanted her as legate for the Fifteenth instead of Nauk or
Hakram. It wasn't that she was likely the best officer to come out of
the College in our generation, not just that anyway: it was also that
she was utterly unafraid of me. She watched her mouth around me because
I had a Name and she'd been taught to respect those, not because I
intimidated her. It was a dangerous thing for a villain to become used
to unquestioning obedience. Juniper nodded again, and her face settled
back in that neutral expression I found so hard to read.

``I recall a mention of victory during that lovely little chat you two
just had,'' Masego cut in with a forced smile. ``I like victory. We
should discuss victory more.''

I closed my eyes with a sigh, grateful for the way Apprentice had
defused the tension still gripping the scene. So here we were now, I
thought, with our backs to the river on a muddy hill and a force twice
our size coming our way. Putting aside the cavalry, they had at least
our number in Free Cities men-at-arms and at their head was a man with
the power of a Name behind him. The Silver Spears meant for this place
to be the killing grounds where they would trample over the Fifteenth,
break our backs so badly that my ramshackle half-legion would be taken
out of the campaign before it had even truly begun.

My eyes might have been closed but I could see the grounds my
legionaries were arrayed on as clearly as if they were open, my mind
slowly filling in where the mercenaries would come from: the full weight
of their infantry in the centre with the cataphracts split between the
flanks. The cavalry would pick out my companies of sappers and tear
through them like parchment, their own footmen pouring into the gaps and
sweeping over my legionaries from all sides. I could imagine the grisly
scene playing out so easily, and yet\ldots{} And yet I could not find it
in me to be afraid.

We had half an hour before they enemy was in sight and for some that
would make no difference, but the men and women under my command were
\emph{Praesi legionaries}. They might have been green, they might never
have seen battle before, but at the end of the day the soldiers under my
command carried the legacy of the armies who'd scattered the strength of
Callow and carried the Imperial banner all the way to the walls of
Laure. And this, this moment and these odds and this feeling of savage
glee I could feeling welling up in me as I realized how our back were
pressed up against the wall? It was my own inheritance. I'd known from
the moment where I'd taken the knife Black had offered me that I was
setting out on a path of uphill battles, and now it was finally
starting. \emph{Watch closely, teacher of mine. This is where it
starts.} Because if those prancing knights with their glorified
pigstickers thought they were going to beat my Fifteenth, they had
another godsdamned thing coming.

``Ah,'' Nauk grunted with a distinct undertone of satisfaction. ``Looks
like we're going to win this one.''

``I'm sorry,'' Masego replied wryly, ``I must have missed something. Are
we not outnumbered on top a pile a mud with no way of retreating
anymore? Because that would be something of a relief, really.''

I opened my eyes and ignored both of them, finding that Hakram was still
standing at my left looking like a serene green gargoyle. There hadn't
been so much as a hint of worry on my Adjutant's face from the moment
Robber had come back to report, I suddenly realized. He'd never doubted
that I would find a way to turn this around. \emph{When you give your
trust you give it in full, don't you?}

``She's doing the face, warlock's get,'' Nauk continued, ``Doesn't
matter what they throw at us now -- we're going to eat them alive.''

Coming from most people I would have taken that as a figure of speech,
but with orcs it was always hard to tell.

``I don't do a face,'' I cut in, mildly offended. ``Hakram, tell them I
don't do a face.''

My Adjutant cleared his throat and refused to meet my eyes.

``You do that thing where you almost smile and you show a little
teeth,'' Juniper told me frankly. ``It looks really creepy on a human.''

``I bet heroes never get that kind of backtalk from their minions,'' I
muttered. ``They probably don't have to raise their own horse from the
dead either. Villains get such a raw deal.''

I got a handful of smiles out of that and I clenched my fingers before
unclenching them, thoughts already flying.

``Juniper,'' I said. ``Get Hune up here. I've got a plan, and we've got
no time to waste.''

---

Our half an hour of preparation passed much too quickly for my tastes.
\emph{It will have to do, regardless.} Besides, my sappers had worked
wonders with what little they had on hand: deployed on either side of
the hills, they'd covered the muddy grounds in front of them with rows
of stakes jutting out with the sharp end first. \emph{And just the right
height to slide into a horse's belly.} I was banking everything on the
Silver Spears ramming their cavalry into the light sapper companies on
my sides instead of the heavies and regulars I'd made my centre out of.
Just the stakes wouldn't be enough to stop a cavalry charge, of course,
but between them and the crossbows all sappers were equipped with? Even
if we didn't stop them cold, we'd bleed them severely. Possibly enough
to rout. \emph{Gods Below, let them rout. Because if they don't\ldots{}}
I had another handful of tricks up my sleeves, but having to pull them
out that early in the battle would cast the entire plan into doubt. The
Forlorn Hope had seemed like another disaster waiting to happen, in a
fight that would be this delicate, so I'd taken Juniper's advice and
spread their lines across the ranks.

The Silver Spears were milling in the distance, sergeants haranguing
their men-at-arms into a semblance of ranks. They'd started trickling in
slowly not too long ago, though that trickle had turned into a flood
soon enough. Still, there was something vindictively satisfying about
their lack of discipline: none of my legionaries would have needed that
much screaming to get into a proper line. The mercenaries might be an
impressive sight, with their silver armour and forest of pennants, but
when it came down to a melee I had no problem believing that my bunch of
ugly misfits would run them through. Whoever was in charge of the other
side's disposition had decided to run with the classics: two staggered
waves of infantry in the middle, with their cavalry split in a roughly
even manner between their flanks. Robber's scout had been correct in her
suspicions: there were at least nine hundred cataphracts down there.

If they played it well, the sheer amount of people they could throw into
the grinder might be able to break my legion through attrition: we'd
planned around that as much as we could, but in the end there was only
so much Juniper and I could do. Some commanders might be squeamish at
the idea of blooding their forces that badly for the win, but that
wasn't something I could count on when it came to the Silver Spears: the
way they'd been hitting the supply lines of the Empire spoke of a streak
of ruthless pragmatism, no matter how heroic they looked. And speaking
of heroes, theirs seemed to be galloping ahead of his forces. Did he
want a face-to-face meeting before the beginning of the hostilities? I
didn't feel particularly inclined to grant that, all things considered.

It wasn't that I expected any kind of treachery on their part, though
I'd be a fool to dismiss the notion entirely, but I knew from my little
chats with William that talking with those types was an exercise in
frustration. On the other hand, if I was rude enough I might be able to
bait this so-called Exiled Prince into attacking recklessly. Something
to consider. Said Prince was a pretty boy, I saw as he kept on riding
closer. Long, flowing golden hair and a pale disposition that made him
look a living marble statue -- a little too perfect for my own tastes,
but not half-bad to look at. Nothing on Kilian, though. He had a minion
riding at his side with what I assumed was the Silver Spears' standard,
a pennant with a silver knight riding on a field of white\emph{. You're
not even fielding knights, you pretentious jackass}, I thought
uncharitably. \emph{Even your standard is full of it.}

``The other one has a Name too,'' Masego murmured from at my side. ``Not
a strong one, but still dangerous -- probably an attendant-type Role, by
the looks of the power. Equerry, maybe, or Page.''

I grimaced. That could complicate things. I was confident enough I could
take on one Named by myself, but two was a whole other story. Hakram had
yet to come into any of his aspects, so besides being a lot harder to
kill than most orcs he wouldn't be much help in that regard. Before I
could even start of thinking about a way to take them out, though, I was
stopped by the simple fact that the two of them \emph{kept on riding
closer to my lines.}

``Hakram, sword out and ready the reserve,'' I barked. ``They're up to
something.''

I pushed myself up, already looking for my horse, but the pair of heroes
slowed about two hundred yards away from my battle line and then
stopped. Maybe-Page rammed the standard into the mud and brought the
horn dangling off his shoulder to his lips, letting out a loud almost
crystalline sound. I could feel the shudder that went through my men at
the sound of it and the power of my Name flared up angril.

``What the \emph{Hells} was that?'' Juniper cursed.

Masego frowned.

``Priestly stuff, I think -- your usual ``sound will strike fear in the
heart of the wicked'' package.''

``FOUL MINIONS OF THE DARK,'' the golden-haired hero called out, ``I AM
THE EXILED PRINCE, LORD OF THE SILVER SPEARS, RIGHTFUL HEIR TO THE
THRONE OF HELIKE!''

I blinked.

``Is he\ldots{} is he starting a monologue?'' I asked, just in case I'd
somehow been trapped in an illusion.

``Huh,'' Apprentice mused. ``I didn't think people actually did that. I
mean, I've read about it, but this is a little surreal.''

``I COME TO OFFER YOU THE CHANCE TO END THIS WITHOUT NEEDLESS BLOODSHED.
LET THE WITCH THAT COMMANDS YOU STEP FORWARD AND MEET ME IN SINGLE
COMBAT!''

``I wish I was a witch,'' I sighed. ``My life would be so much easier if
I could set people on fire with my mind.''

Juniper shifted uncomfortably to my left, a look of confusion painted on
her face for the first time since I'd met her.

``Is he serious?'' she asked me. ``Why would he risk that when he has
the larger force?''

Masego chuckled.

``He's royalty, Legate. It's not a trap -- all that crown-wearing has
simply atrophied the part of the brain us mere peasants get common sense
from,'' he told her.

Hakram had already prepping the reserve, I could see from the corner of
my eye. Good, there was no need to rush into this. The Exiled Prince,
apparently content that his challenge had been delivered, was sitting
ramrod-straight on his horse and waiting for an answer. Single combat,
huh. Someone had been reading too many stories.

``Juniper,'' I murmured. ``Correct me if I'm wrong, but he's about a
hundred and fifty yards away from our front?''

The Hellhound squinted, estimating the yards like I had a few moments
ago.

``Give or take ten yards,'' she assessed. ``Why?''

``That's effective killing range for our crossbows,'' I pointed out.

The legate grunted. ``And?''

``I was thinking,'' I said patiently, ``about shooting him.''

There was a moment of silence and everyone turned to stare at me. What?
It was a perfectly reasonable plan.

``Can we\ldots{} can we actually do that\emph{?}'' Hakram spoke, voice
hesitant.

I drummed my fingers against my leg.

``I can't think of a reason we couldn't. He's not here under a flag of
truce, and even if he was we have no treaties with the rebels.''

``It seems rather unsporting of us,'' Apprentice drawled, though he
sounded more amused than actually opposed to the course of action.

``We don't get points for fair play at the end of the battle, Masego,''
I replied anyway.

Juniper grunted thoughtfully.

``Would get them moving for sure,'' she finally said. ``Might even make
them angry enough to get sloppy with their battle order. Should I send
for a sharpshooter?''

``Nauk's close to the front, and he's a fairly good shot,'' I declined.

Hakram sent one of our messengers down the hill with the order and I
watched the soldier make his way through the ranks until he came by the
armoured silhouette of Commander Nauk. Even at this distance I could see
the surprise in his body language, and when he turned to gaze up in my
direction I mimed shooting a crossbow. Nauk shrugged and requisitioned
one from a goblin, cranking it and settling the bolt in. There was a
heartbeat before it flew, and as the murderous bolt sailed through the
air I could already see the angle was wrong -- it would hit the Prince's
upper chest, not the throat or the head. \emph{And anything short of a
killing wound, a hero will shrug off.} The way Hunter had managed to
swing around his spear while missing a hand and bleeding out heavily had
made that clear enough. At the last moment, though, just before it could
hit the hero's chest, some unseen force yanked it up at an awkward angle
and it punched into the man's throat. I blinked, struck speechless. In
the background Masego started laughing convulsively, and I turned to
shoot him a questioning look.

``You managed that with a spell?'' I demanded.

If he could do telekinesis at that range, he should have told me -- if
he could mess about with an arrow, he could definitely choke the guy.

``Wasn't,'' he got through the fits of laughter, ``wasn't me. His
armour\ldots{}''

He finally got the laughter under control, though a shit-eating grin
still split his face in two.

``His armour -- it's enchanted to turn away arrows. Only it's part of a
set, I'd guess, and since he wasn't wearing his helmet\ldots{}''

Understanding sunk in after a moment. The enchantment had redirected the
crossbow bolt away from his chest, and right into his throat. The
mercenaries were stirring in the distance like a hornet's nest that had
just gotten kicked, but in that moment I couldn't help but burst out
laughing.

So much for the Lord of the Silver Spears.
