Iron Blooded

“Lord Blackthorne will see you now.”

The Knight swept the flap of the war tent aside and stood back to allow Gills and I inside.

Blackthorne was dressed in traveling clothes, Dawnbringer leaning against the war table beside him. He stood studying a sprawling map of Kadia, his face creased in a frown.

Around him several of his advisers glanced up and fell silent at our approach. Gills bowed deeply and I followed suit, clasping my hands behind my back.

We had been sent for in the early hours of the morning and by Gills somber expression I knew we were about to face the repercussions of last nights revelry.

Lord Blackthorne waved a hand, muttering something to his advisers. They bowed their heads and retreated past us and out of the tent.

Only two of his household guard remained, faces stoic and unmoving.

Blackthorne yanked off his leather gloves and tossed them onto the table.

“Lieutenant Giller, do you have any idea of the trouble your little stunt has caused me?”

“No my Lord.”

"No indeed."

Blackthorne paced in front of the table, his irritation evident.

“I might have expected this kind of behavior from Will, but from you? You are a veteran of three Kadian campaigns and a stalwart soldier. I promoted you because I believe you have both the gumption and the experience to lead. Have I erred in my judgment of your character?”

“No my Lord,” said Gills softly.

Blackthorne spun to face him.

“Then explain to me why a one of my Knights approached me with the news that you and your company had started a brawl with some of the men under my command. A drunken brawl no less if the rumors are to be believed."

Gills cleared his throat.

“There is no excuse my Lord.”

I glanced at him, baffled. Why wouldn’t Gills speak in defense of his actions? But I could guess why on further reflection.

Gills you fool, I thought. You're doing everything in your power to keep her out of this."

“No excuse?” Blackthorne raised a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ser Connell has asked that I administer lashes to the men of the third that participated in yesterday’s ill advised activities. And as it stands, he has the right to demand satisfaction."

Gills dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

“My Lord, I know I have no right to ask for boon and yet I feel that I must. I am the company commander, and as such, the fault of my men lies with me. Please allow me to take the lashes of my soldiers as penance for my error. I ask you not to punish them for my actions."

“Gills,” I started but the veteran shot me a glare and I fell reluctantly silent.

Blackthorne threw up his hands in incredulous exasperation.

“Yes,” he said. “And I might have obliged you that very thing. Only, since I’ve risen in the morning I’ve had to endure no less then a two dozen of the 3rd Auxiliary requesting an audience. Each and every one of them made a case plead for clemency on your behalf. They ask that you be excused from the whipping post so that they may take your place."

Gills looked momentarily speechless. His mouth worked and he swallowed hard.

“I… my Lord I’m afraid I don’t…” he trailed off.

Blackthorne sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

“However unruly your company has been, I cannot deny the power of their loyalty. To have soldiers come before me on bended knee to ask not only for your forgiveness, but to be allow to stand for lashes in your place... It’s simply unprecedented.”

Blackthorne let out a bark of humorless laughter and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“So now it falls to me to figure out what to do with you Lieutenant. Certainly I cannot ask who was responsible for starting the brawl, as every man in your company will claim themselves as the guilty party. Nor can I whip sixty men while my Army prepares to march. So that leaves me with only one course of action.”

A muscle worked in his jaw.

“For the remainder of the march your company will remain as rear guard. Protection of supplies, digging of latrine pits, and break down and clean up of the camp will fall to you and your men alone. You will have no aid from other companies. You will preform your duties with haste and without complaint. Am I understood?"

“You are my Lord.”

“Good. You are dismissed."

Blackthorne waved a hand.

"Will, stay.”

Gills and I exchanged a look as he rose and exited the tent. I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the ground. Lord Blackthorne was in a mood and I wasn’t looking to play with fire.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Lord sighed and glancing up, I saw he had fallen into a chair behind the war table, a fist propped under his chin.

“Politics,” he grunted. “How I hate them.”

I stayed tactfully silent as he studied the map in front of him for long minutes.

“The situation is more complicated then I let on,” he said at last.

“My lord?”

Blackthorne’s twisted a signet ring around his finger.

“Vera is known to me. She is the bastard daughter of current Baron of house Lormar, and a threat of violence towards her could be considered a capital offense. Men have hanged for less, make no mistake.” He glanced up at me and registered the lack of surprise in my features.

“So you were aware of her status? Is that why the men defended her?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and thought carefully before I answered.

“No, Lord. Not everyone in the company is aware of her…..lineage. We stood up for her because she is one of our own, and the 3rd looks out for itself."

I paused and then added.

"And because York’s treatment of her crossed a line.”

Blackthorne considered this, then nodded.

“Very well, I’ll take your account into advisement. I believe you to be an honest man Will of Blackbriar. So to it that you do not lose my faith." he gave me a significant look.

"Nor my good will. You are dismissed.”

I bowed and turned to leave.

“Your squad performed admirably against the Goblin ambush." Said Blackthorne suddenly.

"Thank you my Lord."

He shook his head.

"I mean to say that I too have lost friends on the field of battle, and I was saddened to hear of your own loss. Remember this, a leader is measured not in his mistakes, but in how he adapts and learns from them. You have potential and I would not see it squandered."

I bowed my head.

“I understand my Lord.”

"Do you?" A glint of amusement entered his gaze.

"You remind me so much of someone I used to know. At times It feels like I am speaking to him...." he trailed off and then seemed to realize I was standing there.

"Just the ramblings of an aging man." he said.

"Go, and put your time to good use."

***

“Well this sucks.” Said Kato.

I was knee deep in a latrine pit, shoveling at the soft ground with a spade. A storm was mounting on the horizon and clouds darkened the sky above us. The stink of waste clung to me as I dug.

“At least it wasn’t lashes,” Draxus dug his shovel into the earth and leaned on it, swatting a fly from his face.

"Believe me when I say that this is the better alternative."

We were knee deep in the sludge, having removed our boots to avoid ruining them. My trousers were rolled to the knee and I winced every time I had to take a step.

One of the soldiers gagged, turning away to heave his guts into the mud. The smell was not improved.

Draxus glanced aside I looked up to see Martin wading towards me, shovel in hand.

“Will," he said. "Gills wants you. Said it’s urgent. I’m meant to take over for you.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Absolutely foul.”

I frowned.

“Did he say what it was about?” I sloshed towards the side of the trench, spade held high.

Martin’s shoulders rose and fell.

“He wouldn’t say but he seems stressed. Something has him out of sorts and I’d hurry if I were you.”

I tossed my shovel aside when I reached the bank of the trench. Then I splashed water from a nearby wash basin over my legs, grimacing when the water failed to wash away the lingering smell of sewage.

I pulled my socks and boots on and picked my way towards where Gills stood issuing orders. He was organizing the rear guard, his expression serious.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did something happen?"

Gills looked tired. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes had bags under them.

“We’ve lost contact with two of the supply wagons,” said Gills grimly. “Last I’d heard they were a several miles back fixing an issue with one of the horses harnesses. I left a few men with them but they should have arrived hours ago.”

I cursed inwardly and glanced to the sky.

“There’s a storm coming and they’ll be caught in it.”

Gills nodded, pulling at his beard.

“I can’t spare the men to send a large search party and asking Lord Blackthorne for aid…” he trailed off.

“I can handle it,” I said. “Give me five men and Bjorn and we’ll find them.”

Gills shook his head.

“I need Bjorn here to handle the rear guard. The men count on his prowess in battle and I can’t risk leaving our flank exposed. With you gone it’s out of the question.”

I grimaced.

“And Astrid?”

Gills hesitated for a moment then nodded.

“Take her with you. And listen Will,” He stepped closer, lowering his voice so the soldiers around us couldn’t hear.

“Be careful out there. This storm is… unnatural. There is something about it that isn’t right. Even the horses seem spooked.”

I glanced past him to where one of the nearby supply horses grazed. He was right. The animal danced in place, snorting. Every once it a while it would swing it’s head around at any loud sounds.

The horse wasn’t the only one. There was an attitude among the men, a sort of uncertainty over the last few days.

“Does it have something to do with the bog?” I asked.

Gills grunted and rubbed a hand across his chest where I knew an old scar still pained him.

“The nearer we draw to this place the stranger things will get. If you’ve heard rumors about the Southern Marshlands, just know they aren’t exaggerated. There is something… wrong about that bog - and the storm is moving from that direction.”

“Do you think it’s sorcery.”

Gills rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t know, but stay vigilant out there and make sure you stay on the path. I don't want to risk you getting lost."

He rummaged in his inventory and pulled out three small lanterns the size of a closed fist. Inside were a glowing small glowing crystals that cast a dim light in a sort of halo across the ground.

“Torches will be useless in this weather, so I purchases some Glow Lamps from the artificer. Try not to lose them, they weren’t cheap.”

He handed them over and I thanked him. Then I made my way to where the men of the 3rd Auxiliary were setting up camp.

I chose two swordsmen and three spear men, two of which I recognized from out previous venture to Castle Basset.

None of the men looked particularly eager for this mission but I could hardly blame them. I was feeling the trepidation myself as I suited up.

I buckled Iron Fang onto my sword belt and over my chain mail. Then I grabbed my helmet from where it rested on my pack.

There was still a dent in it from the blow I’d taken from the Goblin Chieftain. I ran a thumb over the metal before squaring my shoulders and jamming it unto my head. Around me the soldiers gathered, Astrid standing nearby with her customary serious expression.

She had forgone her longbow for a shorter re-curve bow. She began methodically waxing the string as she listened to my instructions.

“We’re to stay on the path at all times," I said. "No exceptions. I will carry one of the lamps, Bruce the second, and Astrid will have the third. We move swiftly but carefully. Draw blades at the first sign of trouble.”

The men chorused their agreement and Astrid gave me a silent nod.

As the men checked supplies I walked over to her and dropped my voice.

“The storm,” I said. “What do you know about it?”

Her eyes darted to mine and then quickly away.

“What makes you think I know anything?”

I didn't hesitate.

“Because you and Bjorn have been on edge ever since you heard that we had orders to march through the bog on our way south. I saw the way you looked at each other. Tell me what you know.”

Astrid hesitated.

“There are many Kadian’s who believe that the men of the North are drunk on superstition,” she said. “But the truth is that there are things in the North… wild things that cannot be explained by the laws of science or magic. This bog is much the same."

“You mean it isn’t just a legend,” I said, glancing down the dark trail where the men now gathered.

Astrid’s eyes were serious.

“No. I have seen things… things that you wouldn’t believe if I told you.”

She hesitated again. "But there is one thing I would say. If you hear them do not trust what they say and do not take anything they may offer you. Not for any reason."

“They?” I asked, feeling a chill settle over me.

“The voices.” Said Astrid. "The Watcher's in the dark."

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