The Battle of Lothan

Nat fairly flew through the woods. His side burned intensly and he paused to redue his bandage. Suddenly, faint shouting reached Nat's ears. He instinctively nocked an arrow and half drew his bow. Pausing in a half-crouch, he scanned the area carefully before continuing forward at a cautious pace. Well it seemed as though his quarry had just jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. He studied the situation, having already become adapt at estimating numbers since joining the army. There appeared to be nearly 300 Siltinians attacking a village. The villagers appeared to be putting up a good fight but he knew that they would give way within the hour. Quickly rising to run back with the news something caught his eye on the horizon. Biting back an exclamation he dropped down again and resumed counting. He stopped at 1,000. Our only advantage is surprise. Nat thought to himself. Well it might be enough. Appears our quarry has taken refuge in the village. Or worse... Nat swiftly rose and sprinted off. He hadn't been traveling more than 5 minutes when he ran into Dyl.
"Siltinians!" Nat shouted, "They are raiding a village! We have to stop them!" Dyl immediately turned around and began racing back to relay the information to Lieutenant Stuntson and the 35th. Nat returned to the edge of the woods to survey the battle. The village would be inundated as soon as the main body arrived. There appeared to be 1,500 total give or take a hundred. It would be a tough fight but it might be do able. Surprise. That is what they were relying on. Suddenly a twig snapped behind Nat. Spinning around and nearly snarling, Nat jerked his sword from it's scabbard only to find the Lieutenant crouched there.
"You look quite fierce covered in that all that blood and mud," he commented grimly. Nat swiftly explained the situation.
"So I have concluded, Sir, that our only chance to save this village lies in striking their flank. If we attack directly from behind we will drive the Siltinians into the village and further endanger the villagers. If we divide our force into two groups the second group could delay the main body of Siltinians. Each force of about 300 could then concentrate on the main body from two different directions forcing them to split their forces and we could work in a pincer movement. But surprise it the key." Nat glanced at the Lieutenant worried he would disagree and pull back.
Stuntson nodded, "Yep you are right. That is a really good plan. How about this? We will attack the main force, and then you can lead a force against the troops directly against the village. If they haven't returned to aid the main body. As it is we will be outnumber 2 to 1 by the main force alone. So I don't want to divide our force until we have the main body reeling. Then you can take 200 men and attack the troops harrassing the village."
Nat's mouth dropped open, "Me? But I am a raw recruit! I don't know much about strategy and combat!"
"Well you sure have displayed some good tactical thinking just now. I am sure you will do fine. Besides you might make a good sergeant someday. Best to start improving your skills now."
The Lieutenant quickly hurried back into the forest, returning with his Sergeants. The 7 sergeants heard the plan and then rushed back to ready their men. "Ok Nat, when you are ready the 101st, and the 102nd will follow your lead. Blow this horn when you are ready to cut your way free and rescue the village, got it?"
"Yes, sir," Nathan replied, taking the horn. The 35th Battle Company assembled spreading its 7 attack companies out so they could all open fire at once.
"Nock arrows!" came the order. "Release!" shouted the lieutenant.
Nat released his arrow and watched as it buried itself in the armor of a mounted officer. "Draw swords! Charge!" shouted Stuntson. We came streaming out of the woods. The 101st and 102nd in the lead and center the rest of the companies falling into a spear head formation to pierce through the enemy ranks. Stuntson himself was at the point of the giant 600 man spearhead formation. Nat raced forward shouting with all the rest of his comrades.
The Siltinians managed to throw up a bristling wall of spears and as Nat bounded the last few steps, he swatted aside three spear heads moving in fast enough so that he slit one man's throat before the man could draw his sword. Battling another soldier fiercely, he realized that he was not as skilled with his sword as his opponent. Nat was being forced back and in desperation, whipped out his long knife, blocked the sword and tackled the soldier. He couldn't use his sword if he was wrestling with Nat. Nat slipped the knife through some grooves in the Siltinian's armor and then finished him. From then on Nat's tactic was to get in as close as possible with his sword so he could use his knife on the opponent.
Nat glanced up at the village, flames were rising from several of the thatched houses. Nat raised the horn to his lips and blew it. The horn reverberated around the valley and the 101st rallied around Nat. "To the village!" Nat roared. Killing an archer with three quick swings, Nat surged forward. He saw Gumbol, the cook, cutting down another swordsman (yes the company cook does fight), Jacen was handling a pair of spearmen with Dyl, Nat took down an axe man, then, working with Dyl and Jacen they began eliminating foes twice as fast. Cutting through the center of the main Siltinian force, Nat and the 101st burst through and rushed into the flank of the raiders raiding the village. They caught the raiders off guard temporarily but soon both sides were taking heavy losses. Gumbol took an arrow through the chest. He staggered on and continued to fight but Nat realized it was over for Gumbol. Dyl had a large gash on his forehead that bled profusely and a stab wound in the leg, Jacen alone seemed to be the only one who wasn't injured with more than a scratch. He was a very proficient swordsman already. Nat had just finished off another Siltinian when he heard a scream and glanced towards the makeshift palisade the villagers were defending. There were as many women there defending the palisade as men. Then he spotted the same dark woman he had been hunting. Only she was different. She was wearing decent clothes. That couldn't be the same woman. Just then a spear man thrust a spear at Nat and, distracted as he was, Nat was unable to do more than twist aside and watch as the spearhead seemed to follow his body. It was over. He would never see his mother again now. Never finish tracking that crazy girl. That was an odd thing to think...

Lothan

Uh oh, she was in trouble now. She hadn't meant to talk to those soldiers, but once she met them, she had to, to save her skin. They had started to get down to talk to her eye to eye, and she knew that as soon as they did, she would be overpowered. Thankfully, her hand-to-hand combat skill took over, and she was able to get away. If those two muddy soldiers hadn't come along....well, she didn't want to have visuals at this point. It could have become messy. As it was, it was still messy, and she had to do something. Soon. She thought she may have been able to hold them off for a bit, but she was moving too slow with that branch, and had to leave it. That problem now was that they were going to catch her if they could. She couldn't risk that. At least not yet. They would slow her down. She had to get to her village as soon as possible.
Soon she reached Lothan, and the sight visibly disturbed her. Well, it wasn’t every day that you came across a village in this state of disorder. Really, it was odd. The outside homes were deserted, but the central village was completely swarming with not only men and women, but children, and what seemed like all of the animals in the village.
“What’s going on?” Varrelle asked a little boy as soon as he was in ear-shot.
“Didn’t yew know?” the boy asked in a voice that bordered on scorn and involved a lisp, but was laced with excitement. “The Thiltinianth are attacking me village.”
“What?” Varrelle said wildly. They couldn’t be. The fact that she might be sold back into slavery was unbearable.
“Yew aren’t from around here, are yew? Yew look thort of different from me mum and aunties.” the tike asked.
“No, I’m not.” she said dazedly.
“Well, yewd better get movin’, or ye won’t find a place of thafty afore the tholdierth come.
“Yes, I suppose I do have to get moving, don’t I?” she said quietly.
As she continued to push through the crowd, her mind raced. This was NOT what she had in mind. Not at all! She needed to find someone in charge.
She bumped into a small woman on the edge of the crowd.
“Excuse me madam, but you wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on here, would you?” she asked quickly.
“Why yes deary, I do. The Siltinians are coming. Not a large group I hear, but they are plundering villages. Our men-folk will take care of them, I’m sure.”
“Well, I’m glad that you are so certain of that." Varrelle said pertly
"Well, I'm sure that you can afford to sass me, looking like you do." the old woman said rather ungraciously.
"I don't have a choice as to my apparel." she said coldly
"Well I can't just let you walk around half naked." the woman replied "I have a few extra dresses in my shop. I'll let you have one, simply because it's what needs to be done."
"Thank you." Varrelle said humbly
They walked to a nearby shop and saw 3 dresses in the window. One was a light violet, and of a rough cotton; one was of a red, and made of a soft wool; and the final one was the same sapphire as Varrelle's eyes, and was of the same soft wool as the red dress.
The old woman seeing Varrelle's face light up at the sight of it, unbolted the door and got it out of the window.
"Here," she said, "there is a room in the back for you to try it on in."
Varrelle slipped into the room and tried the dress on. It was a little looser than fashion demanded, but otherwise, it fit perfectly. She tried a couple of combat moves, and decided that although it wasn't at all practical, she could still do what she needed to in it.
"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed to the old woman.
"It's no problem." she said grumpily, " I just didn't approve of you going around half dressed, thats all."
As Varrelle walked out of the store, she saw an armorer standing outside of his shop. He was handing out weapons to the men of the village, and she boldly walked up to him.
"What do ye want gurl?" he asked in a harsh voice.
"Knives sir, if it pleases you." she answered demurely
"Knives? What would a nice gurl like yourself be wantin' with a knives?" he asked nastily. "Cutting things." she replied, "I need 3 flat knives. One for my belt, one for my shoe, and one for around my neck."
"Ay, but yur a queer one to be asking such things. I tell ye what. Check with me after I'm done givin' the real fighters weapons. THEN we shall see what's left."
This was better than she thought it would be. She wasn't very good with knives, but they were simple enough for someone to weild. The fact that the armourer hadn't said something more on the matter, or denied her her request was a miracle to her.
10 minutes later he called her over.
"There are 2 flat knives left. Neither is in wonderful condition, and ye are going to have to sharpen them, but if ye still want them........" he told her.
"Yes sir, I do." she said gratefully.
Putting both in her rough bag, along with her other supplies, she was heading out into the crowd again, when a voice cried out, " THE SILTINIANS ARE COMEING!"
She ran as fast as she could to the edge of the crowd, and waited.

(This is guineagal's next chapter. Did you enjoy it? guineagal is a splendid writer! I am honored to be able to create a story with her. :) It is unchanged except for some spelling and two inconsistencies that I found)

The Art of War

Dyl had raced into the woods and quickly went to work on Nat's side, lest he lose all his blood. Managing to remove the arrow, which had thankfully gone completely through the flesh without damaging anything as far as Dyl could see, Dyl quickly managed to get the bleeding to stop. There was a crash and Dyl looked up in time to see the cavalry struggling to get through the trees and underbrush. The 101st began bringing them down by the handful with well-placed arrows and quick assaults with spears. Dyl returned his attention to Nat. He seemed to be fine. Just needed to get his bleeding stopped. Searching for any water skins or any liquid at all he spied a mud puddle. "I know you hate getting muddy but I am going to have to wake you up 'cause I can't carry you the whole way. Just be glad that..." At the mention of mud Nat's eyes seemed to flutter open and gradually to focus on Dyl.
"If you get any mud on me I will personally trounce you!" were the first words out of Nat's mouth.
"Haha!" Dyl roared, "You are hilarious! You are covered in mud and you worry about getting more mud on yourself! Yep you are back!"
"Hey! I just don't like nasty slick surprises all that much. Where is my sword? We got to get back in the fray."
Dyl smiled at Nat and clapped him on the back, "Well I s'pose you can use this bow here."
Nat picked it up, pulled an arrow smoothly out of his quiver, grimacing whenever it stretched his injured side, and shot a rider cleanly right out of his horse. "Let's go hunt some Siltinian!" Nat shouted loping off. Dyl had to hurry to keep up with him.

Nat wondered how long he had been unconscious. Surely not for hours. When he asked Dyl all he got was a wry grin and a comment about how much he must hate getting dirty. The 101st had been on the move for quite a while now. They had found the rest of the 35th Battle Company and rejoined it. They had been hunting Siltinians all day and all last night had spent sleeping in between marching. They had received no news of the fighting elsewhere but ran into Siltinians all over the place. Lieutenant Stuntson said that they had been cut off from the main army and that they were probably behind the Siltinian's main army. Which supposedly consisted of some 50,000 men. The 3rd Imperial Army had approximately 50,000 men also and both forces seemed to be fighting over a huge battlefield scattered of many square miles of land. Our little blood bath was only a small part of the beginning of the battle. It was estimated that the 35th, aka Fearsome Farmers, had lost about 100 men in the first fight, but now they were giving out as many and more casaulties to the Siltinians. Thus is the art of war. It seemed like weeks since he had had a good nights sleep, he missed a warm bed, being clean, and most of all his mother. How was she faring? He hoped well but could never be sure. Dyl sensed his mood.
"You missing your mom again?"
"Yeah. She always did wash my clothes and make sure I was all clean and warm every night. She tucked me in and read stories to me when I was younger. She taught me how to read, too. Then when I could read on my own I read her stories when she got older and more feeble. That was fun. I should at this moment be taking care of the farm. It is almost planting season. Right now we would be rationing our food so we could plant some in spring."
Dyl nodded. While he missed his family it never seemed to bother him that much. They were at this moment walking swiftly through the woods, some distance ahead of the rest of the rest of the 101st. The Sergeant Bullion's orders were to shoot any Siltinian they saw and capture anyone they met. They could be spies was the explanation. If there were more than 2 Siltinians they were to notify Bullion immediately. Suddenly Dyl tensed, drawing his bow back but not aiming yet. Nat froze in his spot and, with the help of Dyl's hand gestures, located the threat. Two Siltinian horsemen, their backs to Nat, were laughing together about something. Nat and Dyl crept closer until they could see what occupied the horsemen's attention. They were both talking to a young lady. She was very attractive and had really dark skin. Dyl nudged Nat and whispered, "Now there's a real looker for ya." Nodding Nat drew his bow back and began taking aim when suddenly the young lady took several quick steps towards the horsemen, who had now dismounted, and suddenly without warning threw the taller, stronger looking soldier into his partner, toppling both of the soldiers. She then fled into the woods on fleet feet. Disappearing into the trees. The two horsemen jumped to their feet, muttered curses floating on the wind to us and we drew back and finished them. Hurrying down to inspect the soldiers we had killed, we soon collected their weapons in a pile and began examining them for anything usable before we began hunting down that woman. We both took a long curved knife from each of the bodies and then after leaving signs to lead the company to this location, and writing a note on a strip of cloth we found, we quickly followed after the young woman. Her trail was not hard to follow for the two boys and soon they began to find signs that she had slowed. Wondering how they would have to deal with a violent woman, they pressed onward. Finally the trail seemed to disappear. They both decided to split up and circle about and try to pick it up again. Both agreed to be careful if they did find this wild woman. She was indeed wild. She had been dressed in a sheepskin toga thing that left large portions of her body uncovered, and assaulted men, even fully armed soldiers without apparent fear. Yes she must be rather dangerous. Nat watched Dyl pick his way along in the opposite direction before turning to search in his direction. He hadn't been walking more than ten minutes when he picked up the trail again. He found a pine branch that had been used to eradicate any tracks and throw off any pursuit. It was mostly hidden but his sharp eyes spotted it. He must be on the right trail. Pine branches just didn't fall off like that. their needles fell off. Soon he found a foot-print and then another and finally he was back on track! He paused to check his bandage and tighten it, then set a hard loping pace hoping to catch up with the mysterious wild woman.

Varrelle

17 year old Varrelle was feeling happier than she had in a long time. And that was saying something. Usually Varrelle was a joyfull, radiant girl, but today she was luminous. She had run away. Now you might think that most girls would be scared, or only idiots to run away from a warm, loving, supportive family. But Varelle had no warm, loving, supportive family to run away from. She was a slave. A slave of war to be exact. Of course now, she was free. Completely free, and heading for the border of Marovia. She was from Marovia, and although she wasn't thrilled by the fact, it was still home.
Her village was near the border, which was why she was taken as a prisoner in the first place. If she had lived further in, this might have never happened. But there, it did happen, and she just had to get on with it. Anyway, she couldn't just pretend that there still wasn't some risk. She was still in Siltinia, and she could not afford to forget it.
She wondered whether her family was still in the same village, whether the survivors had built a new one. She had a brother, 2 sisters, and cat, along with her parents, that were involved in the raid, and she was worried. It had been at least 2 years ago, but maybe everything was alright again. She knew, however, that there was a risk that her family may have moved on. She knew that none of THEM had been taken as slaves like she had, so the must still be in Moravia. She was nearing the border, and she hoped that she could reach it by night-fall. There was, of course, the risk that there would be guards at the border, but she doubted it. The Siltinians were spread thin. Too thin. She had overheard some of the guards at the slave pens talking about it. They both believed that the war was escalating, and that Siltinia had no chance. That was when she knew she had to make her bid for freedom.
The slave pens she was kept in were about 150 kropogs from the border. That was one night's long walk, and she thought she could make it. She had been a hard labourer for the past 2 years, due to the fact that she was young, and ablebodied. Her skills now included, although were not confined to, hard running, camping, lifting heavy objects, and now thanks to an old Moravian soldier who had been a captive with her, some lethal hand-to-hand fighting. Of course, she could still cook and sew, though only enough to do rough mending, and cook for a few people over a rough fire.
The hard muscle in her arms and legs were accentuated by her lack of proper clothing. The only clothing she possessed at that moment was a rough toga of sheepskin, and some ichy, ill-fitting underclothing. Well, she could survive for a little longer, after she got home she could get some proper clothing. The sheepskin only came to her knees, and showed all of her arms. Thus, you could see the rippling muscles in her calves and upper arms.
She had a rough sack over her shoulder, and in it was a map (stolen from the guard chamber), a water bottle, (also stolen, although the water in it wasn't) and some rough food (most of her rations from the previous week) and some flint, picked up on the way, although she didn't see what good it would do her, as lighting a fire on the run was impossible.
Her sapphire eyes, dark skin the color of chocolate, and her long, curly, ebony hair had turned heads no matter where she was, and now wasn't any different. At 17, she had grown into her beauty, and was not thought odd by fellow children, who had never understood how she had such startling features, and labeled her strange, not understanding her gifts when she was younger. Of course, she was gifted. Her mother had even thought her strange, but it had only happened 4 times in her life...... Ah well, musn't think of that now. She had to focus. The trees began to thin, and she saw the bands marking the border. She was almost there! At last, she crossed into Moravia, and began to run. She would be able to reach Julupe by daylight! And then.......well, she didn't know did she? But she was willing to find out......

(Once again this has been written by Guineagal. I have done a little spell checking but otherwise it is unaltered.)

A Matter of Turnips and Potatoes

Liam sighed. It wasn't fair. Kariem was able to go to the market, and he had to continue farming. The turnips weren't doing well this year, and because father was now 79, he and Kariem had to do most of the work. Not today of course, because Kariem, lucky dog, was at the market.
Liam's green eyes were a bit blurry, as they stared seemingly into the distant future. Really, the fact that he had been born was a miracle. His parents had been in their early 60's when he and had been born. He yanked his thoughts back from his parents and back to the turnips. Turnips were the main food source in Lothan, his home village. Well, that and potatos that is. He concidered the posibilities that lay in store for his midday dinner. Well, there were turnovers of potatoes, turnips and if he was lucky, a little fish. Beef and chicken were scarce that year. His Majesty King Damien had ordered that the few cows, other than those for milking, were to be part of the taxes for Lothan. Moram, the neighboring village, was taxed with chickens, all but 2 birds per family for eggs. His mind continued to wander. His brother; his mother; Manela, his dog; and the fact that he was going to have to go into the army soon. His mother said that he was only 16, but he suspected otherwise. Laran, his mother, had always been very protective. And for that matter, so was Clorem, his father. For now he just had to continue watering turnips. Arrrrrgh, but his back was killing him. He continued to try and focus his thoughts, but it was useless. Well, he figured, you didn't need much concentration in this job. "Liaaaaaam! Liaaaaaaaaam! Are you theeeere?" Just as his thought began to settle, his mother called him.
"Yeeeees!" he called.
"Well come on in! Your turnovers are getting cold!"
"Cooooooming!" he shouted. Finally! Dinner!
As he stepped into the small cottage that he called home, he noticed that his mother's eyes were red. This was odd, as Laran didn't ever get sick, or have allergies.
"Mother! Whats wrong? Your eyes are red." exclaimed Liam.
"It's nothing." she said brusquely, rubbing her hands over her face roughly.
"Alright...." Liam said reluctantly, letting the subject drop. It wasn't his buisiness. If his mother wanted to tell him, she would in her own time. Clorem came through the doorway, stooping slightly. As soon as he was inside the cottage, he looked normal, but while he was in the doorway he was distorted. The cottages in this village had been built when people were much smaller, and as a result, people gifted with height, such as Clorem, were forced to endure small discomforts such as this.
"Laddie! Yur lookin fine! Is yur mather feedin ye well? Ye've been worrkin outsade forr weel overr 4 hourrs! Did ye nay notice the time?" Clorem asked in his thick brough.
"Yes father, mother is at that! Turnovers! And yes, i suppose i did!" Liam mimed someone rubbing his stomach in ecstasy over a delicious delicacy.
"Ay laddie. Yur sense of huemorr is goin to get ye in trrouble one of theese days! The king won't stand no monkey busness, ye ken!"
"I KNOW father. I'm just joking. You react so well that its a shame NOT to bait you a little." Clorem sighed and shook his head, visibly giving up on his son. Just then Kariem walked in. His sandy hair was tousled by the wind, and his faicle features registered shock and numbness. "Karriem! Laddie! Wheets wrrong?" exclaimed Clorem.
"The Siltinians are attacking!" he gasped out, before becoming aware of his mother's presence. She fell in shock onto a chair.

(This was written by Guineagal, not me. She will now be posting, via email through me, segments of the story. I shall also continue Nat's story. How do you like the title I gave it Guineagal?)

Baptism of Fire

Springing to his feet, Nat swiftly strung his bow. Men raced to and fro falling into a ragged line when suddenly, with a crash a line of Siltinian infantry emerged from the woods. Sergeant Bullion shouted "Nock yer arrers!" The 101st quickly nocked arrows. This was habit, something they were familiar and comfortable with. "Tayk sight!" Nat aimed down his shaft, only to find the chest of another human at the end. He trembled. He was going to kill another human...he had known this all along, had been prepared for it, but now...now he realized the full implications. He was going to end a man's life. "Release!" Nat squeezed his eyes shut as he released. It wasn't so bad. He was just doing his duty. I am just trying to survive and protect my country, he thought. "Draw swords!" He drew his sword. Dyl glanced uneasily at him.
"You ok, Nat?" he said. "This is the real thing."
Nat nodded sickly. Sergeant Bullion came marching past bellowing, he never seemed to just talk normally, "We must hold the enemy until reinforcements arrive! The rest of our Battle Company is reforming to counter-charge. We must buy time with our lives!" Nat shuddered. His thoughts flew to his little old mom back home. She was probably spinning fleece for the villagers now. "Charge!" came the bellowed command. Nat stumbled forward, picked up momentum and then bam! All around men clashed together. Dyl faced off against a tall, buff soldier to Nat's right but he had his own problems. No chance to help Dyl. Nat was smashed to the ground by the first impact. His foe, a heavily muscled man wielding an axe, swung down with a decapitating blow. Nat instinctively rolled out of the way. Kicking the man's leg out from under him, Nat wrenched his knife out and dove onto him before he could rise. They both wrestled there for control of the knife. It was life and death only one could win. Survival of the fittest. Suddenly the man twisted Nat's arm, forcing the knife free and drove it into Nat's neck. Nat twisted his head so it only gashed him deeply, and threw himself backwards. The man leaped to his feet, lunged and fell short. Jacen smiled grimly jerking his sword from the man's back. "Next time hold on to your sword." Nat nodded in thanks and dove back into the fray. This time with his sword. He moved on instinct. Nothing else existed except him and his foe. Suddenly bugles sounded and a line of cavalry appeared behind them. Nat was startled to see the Lieutenant, covered in blood, by his side.
"No, no, no!" Stuntson groaned, "They have out-flanked us and will now annahilate us like pests!"
Dyl looked up from killing another enemy, "Sir! We can hold if fall back deeper into the woods. Their horses will be useless there. Too many trees and branches."
The Lieutenant nodded, then a ghastly smile appeared on his face, "We shall out-flank them in the woods! Fall back! To the woods! Take cover! Suddenly there was a whirr and arrows appeared sticking out from dozens of men near the outskirts of the fray. Nat stared stunned. An arrow protruded from his left side just above the hip. He touched it numbly. So that was what it was like...Dyl raced to his side. Pain shot through him. He shouted with pain.
"C'mon Nat," Dyl grunted swinging Nat onto his shoulders. They pulled back into the forest as Nat dazedly watched the world begin going dark.

The Long Weary March

It was dark. The rain had just stopped about half an hour past and the only sound was the tread of thousands of boots splashing through puddles and struggling through mud. The Marovian army had been on the move the whole night before, all of the day and now this was their second night on the move. They had only stopped three times. Once for breakfast, once for lunch and again for dinner. Nat wondered if they were ever going to get a real rest. They had covered, according to one veteran most of the distance between Chiriath Mul and Surdilea. By the next day they may run into the enemy. He stumbled exhausted over a stone, and tumbled head-long into the mud. "Great!" Dyle grumbled sourly, "That is your only uniform! How is anybody going to recognize you now? Sergeant's gonna have a fit when he sees you!"
"Aw, just calm down," Nat grumbled back, irritated. Did you see Doley? He had mud caked all over him! He looked like he had just taken a bath in it!"
"Who said you just didn't take your bath in the mud?" Dyl stated pointedly.
Nat mumbled irritatedly to himself about picky people who thought a little mud was unacceptable.

Suddenly he almost ran headlong into the back of Jacen, just ahead of him. Blinking tiredly and swaying to and fro they listened as the lieutenant of the 101st marched by, "You boys can rest up now fer de battle. You had better conserve your energy. If you would like you can go rustle up some grub. We should be here for awhile. Until the scouts that have been dispatched return." The lieutenant, Jeb Stuntson, was tall, thin, and wore a broadsword at his side. Like the rest of us in the 101st, he also was from Laodin. He wore a silver sword pin on his chest which meant he had was an accomplished swordsman. The shape of the pin meant he had accomplished himself with a broadsword. He also had the pin signifying his rank of lieutenant. A bronze pair of crossed swords, above the Marovian Boar. He had the marking on his coat, helmet, shoulder plates, chest, and back. Lieutenant Stuntson was also the only man in the 101st who had a horse and chain mail. The rest of the 101st hadn't been provided with armor yet.

Nat collapsed on the ground right where he stood only to find it all muddy. Biting back an exclamation, he jumped up and stumped, well actually staggered after Dyl. Dyl seemed to be amused with him and Nat didn't want to even hear what he was thinking. They made a rude camp, spreading their blankets and made a pitiful attempt at lighting a fire. Eventually they gave up. Soon men were sleeping and snores resounded from every direction.
"Finally some time to rest!" Nat grouched.
Dyl glanced at him, "You always did hate getting dirty, don't you?"
"Who me? I do not! I am always right there with you whenever anything dirty has to be done."
Dyl chuckled wryly as his eyes drifted shut, "I remember the time you fell in the pig sty with your good white shirt on. You were really upset then."
"Hey that," Nat paused to finish a huge yawn, "was a good shirt. My mom took a paddle to my bottom for that! I had reason to be upset." Then Nat drifted into the world of dreams. He was dreaming about his mom. She was working with her spinning wheel, only she was spinning armor and weapons with it. That was strange...then he dreamed about Sabella, the prettiest girl in Hubleton.

Suddenly a trumpet blast shattered Nat's dreams of his mother and village. His eyes flew open. Sergeant Bullion came screaming at the top of his lungs, "Form up you wooden-headed, lazy ladies! We are under attack!"

On the March

Nat scrambled to get his gear together. It mostly consisted of a couple blankets, a bag of personal odds and ends from home, and his weapons. Each of them had, as their main weapon, a bow and a quiver always stocked with 30 arrows, a spear, and a short sword. Not that Nat knew how to use the sword very well. He supposed that they would start learning more sword drills soon enough but so far the focus had been on their archery and on moving in formation. The 101st quickly broke down camp and formed in front of their Lieutenant. There was a shouted order to "Fo'wad Mawch!" and they began clanking their way along the drill grounds. Dyl, beside Nat, gasped when he saw their destination. Thousands of soldiers were being marched to and fro taking up positions according to the unit's experience and prestige. They were marched toward the end of the line and halted facing another company. There must be over ten thousand soldiers here, Nat wondered to himself. There was path through all the battalions right down the center. There was a sounding of trumpets and bugles and suddenly a party of horsemen began to ride down the path straight through the ranks. The rider in the lead was a huge man. He had large, broad shoulders covered in plated armor, and powerful arms which almost rippled with muscles even wearing full armor over them. His whole posture bespoke of power and strength but most of all his eyes. They were keen and seemed to read the strength his men had and take in every detail from a dull spear head to an ill-polished breastplate. He must be General Bledious, High Commander of the 3rd Army, Guardian of Chiriath Mul. He rode down the line studying each soldier he encountered quickly but thoroughly. Finally upon reaching the end of the troops he turned. The sun was setting at his back and he shouted to the troops gathered.

"The Siltinians have besieged Surdilea. Are we going to sit here and wait while they take our families? Livestock? Women? Children? NO! We shall teach those filthy Siltinians once and for all that they do not mess with Marovia! We shall drive them from our homeland and beyond the border back to where they came from! We shall defeat them and give them a lesson in warfare! We shall prevail!" At those words all the troops began to shout and cheer. The General paused until the soldiers quieted. "I have just received word that Surdilea needs our help immediately. Surdilea is only 100 miles north of us. Why do we tarry? We march now for Surdilea and war!" There were cheers, even Nat cheered but as he began to ponder it he realized that not only were they going to have to cover 100 miles quite rapidly, they were going to be marching over night and during the day most likely. Suddenly Nat began to dread the upcoming days leading up the battle that was sure to come. Would he be able to stand up to the Siltinian cavalry? The dusk grew deeper and the army began to march off into the twilight. Nat no longer wondered why many soldiers returned home broken and exhausted. Now he began to wonder if he would end up that way.

The Imperial Army

Nat and Dyl finally made it through thier third month of training and drilling. They and their companies were then formally accepted into the Marovian Imperial Army and assigned to the 5th Battle Division, 8th Battalion, 35th Battle Company, 101st Attack Company. The Imperial Army was divided into four main armies which were further broken down into battle divisions, battalions, battle companies, and finally attack companies. A battle division could consist of anywhere from 5000 to 10000 men; battalions, anywhere from 5000 to 1000 men, battle companies anywhere from 1000 to 100 men, and finally attack companies anywhere from 100 to 1. That was Nat and Dyl's specific assignment. They actually found out that all the recruits from Hubleton were also in the same ac (ac stands for Attack Company not air conditioning). In addition all the recruits from the surrounding region were in the same bc (I am sure you figured that out; battle company=bc). They decided to call themselves the Fearsome Farmers of Laodin (my home region). They were fearsome indeed. Having finished the basic introduction training the 700 farm boys could fill a field with arrows so thick you had to wade through them. That was their main strength so far though.

Nat was enjoying his first day off with Dyl. Now that the introductory training was over they had the privilege of one day off a week and more free time during the day. Yep life was much better now. Not much, but better. He walked into an inn and sat with Dyl. They both ordered a mug of ale and sat listening to rumors and gossip. Someone claimed that the Siltinian forces had routed a Marovian battle division (bd) and slaughtered all the people in the town of Surdilea, a major trade route. Another rumor claimed that elves had appeared to punish King Damian for all his cruelty. But of course everyone knew the elves were only a fairy tale. No longer real if ever. Too bad. "Wish we could meet elves" Nat told Dyl.
Dyle looked into his mug musingly, "I reckon we'd both be uncommonly unfortunate to run into an elf. They say that elves could defeat the best of swordsmen."
"Who said an elf would want to kill us? Maybe they could help us."
"I am just pointing out that they have different ideas of how things are and different traditions," Dyl mumbled into his mug.
Nat went onto other topics and finally they returned to camp. It was in an uproar. Rushing to their tents, they found the Sergeant bellowing at anyone and everyone. Seeing them, Sergeant Kearton roared,"Git yer selves reddy ta march cause dem Siltinins 'ave dicided ta toy wid us!"

Chiriath Mul

The Fortress of Chiriath Mul is the center of the Marovian Imperial Army. It is a great city-castle. The whole city was surrounded by a huge wall fifty feet high and ten feet thick. The walls were littered with ballistae and behind them were huge trebuchet catapults. There were scores of battle towers built into the walls filled with ballistae and slits for raining arrows and stones upon the enemy. Legend said that Chiriath Mul had only been captured once nearly 800 years before by a dwarf and elf army. But that could only have been legend. After all elves had never been seen and dwarfs were only fairytales to entertain children. So among men the Fortress was unconquerable. Sorcerors and Empires had fallen trying to capture it and it was considered one of the great cities of the age. This is where the Imperial Army trained it's recruits.

Nat and Dyl were immediately formed into companies with the other recruits. Each company had 100 men and was commanded by a sergeant. A tough beefy sergeant, named Bullion, marched up to our group. He was rather short barely above five feet but his arms were corded with muscle and his hands were big and calloused. Soon Nat learned to recognize the signs of men used to handling their weapons. The sergeant smiled toothily, well it would have been toothily had he many teeth left, and practically croaked, "Hey laddies! Les git ya some weapons! I'll teach ya ta 'andle a swoyd, speaya, an' a bow like men." From that point on Nat woke to a horn before dawn and was prepared for the day and inspection by dawn. They marched and the sergeant drilled them till they dropped each day. They shot at targets until they could not summon the strength to draw the bow string back. They practiced sword forms until they could not keep their sword upright. They learned to use a spear and quarter staff until they could not stand. Then they crawled into bed each night exhausted and eager to rest. Each day it was the same. Each day they got stronger and stronger until the drills no longer exhausted them, merely wearied them. After nearly three months they were starting to markedly improve. Soon they were promoted from recruits to soldiers. Soon they would be sent off to war.