Kunzite rode his horse into the small clearing. Within seconds, men emerged from the tree line where they had made camp. Smoke from their fire rose over the tree tops. The smell of cooking meat wafted out around them.
He dismounted from his horse, the four men on horseback behind him remaining in place. "I'm looking for a man named Jonas," he called out to the group of men. To their credit, no one gave away who Kunzite was looking for.
The general's uniform that he wore made clear why he was there, so it was no surprise when no one came forward. He had been tasked with reassembling the army that had fractured with the transition of power. Roughly 30,000 of the near 100,000 men enlisted had deserted.
In all fairness, many had started their desertion before the king had died. He could not admit to anyone what this real number was though. So instead he rounded down…by about 20,000.
"It might seem to everyone here," he continued, "that this is a needle in a haystack search, but I promise you, I know that one of you is Jonas." When still no one spoke, he took another step forward and continued. "I'll keep this brief. I am looking for the enlisted men who deserted. I am offering amnesty to all enlisted men. If you were one of those drafted, you have the option of returning to service or to be released."
"There is no one here by that name," a man called out.
Kunzite smiled. He had found over the past month that asking the leader to step forth first often yielded poor results. Asking for the weakest of the group always brought the strongest man to the front. "What is your name, friend?"
"Thomas."
"I presume you are Thomas Alderns, Jonas's regiment leader. Your name is on my list as well."
"You're mistaken on all counts, general."
Kunzite held his arms out, gesturing to the men before him. "Let me simplify this further. I have a list of 1,000 men who have abandoned their post." That seemed a better number for this group. "I have been tasked with finding every man. You will either return to your post and serve, or I will return with your body for your family to identify. Every name will be accounted for. We will not have roving bands of mercenaries to compete with. What will it be?"
The man Thomas marched up to Kunzite, pressing his finger into the taller man's chest. Kunzite stood there and let him. Weak leaders often felt that they had to flex their muscles to get their point across. "You will not show up here and threaten these good men with an imaginary list all because you do not have enough men to support your prince."
"He is our prince."
"Maybe we have had enough of a monarchy telling us what to do."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Thomas," Kunzite said quietly. He scanned the crowd of men, noticing that none had yet moved. When Thomas turned his eyes away, Kunzite kicked his feet out from under him, placing his boot squarely over the man's throat. When Thomas put his hands up in surrender, Kunzite turned his eyes back towards the other men.
One of the men in the crowd stepped forward and withdrew his sword. The blond soldier mounted behind Kunzite drew his bow and shot an arrow at the feet of that man. "Now please, gentlemen," Kunzite continued, "let's start over. We can discuss who everyone else here is next. First though, which one of you is Jonas?"