Power and Anarchy
By Gahzskul
[Author's Note] You'll have to excuse any errors on continuity between the prologue and the following chapters, as it's been several years between he prologue and this
point. Thanks. Thanks for the reviews, btw. To respond to one, I know none of the Asha'men know balefire, but hey, where's the fun in writing if you can't break some
rules! Thanks bud! One more thing- This chapter's kind short. Sorry, next one will be longer.
Chapter Four – Walk, Don't Run
Farran al'Terr could not help but grin. Land lay just on the horizon. He could have danced. His war was near.
In all his days soldiering, Farran had only ever been in two battles he'd lost, and that was back before he had any sort of command. Since then he'd been victorious. And he could only implore the light to keep it that way. Either way, the landings would start in a day or two. The fleet moved slowly due to it's size. They'd been months at sea, but now they were here. And there was their lands. And their impending victory. And the glory to be won for his country.
al'Terr was a Kanadrian, and had the personal blessing of King Cremon, the Lord of the Soul Stone, the Sitter of the Throne of the Dead, The keeper of the Crown of Bone, may the light hold him from the shadow for eternity. He had the King's blessing, and this gave him confidence. He did not fancy himself a patriot, but he was. He fought for his king, and for his country, and for his men. If those were threatened, he fought harder. And he won.
Another thought came to Farran. The Seanchan were out on that land somewhere. There was even talk in Kanadria of the Daughter of the Nine Moons having come with what they called 'The Return', along with many of the Seanchan's 'High Blood'. Farran grinned again, and turned to his Captains, still grinning. "The land's in sight, and we should be landing in a day or two. Get the men ready. Have the whetstones put to use. A fresh edge on every blade. A shining helm and breastplate on every man. I want to put fear in them before our swords!" The last words were shouted to that the men on the ship past the Captains would hear him. They cheered, sensing their Commander's confidence. Yes thought Farran, Tomorrow will be a good day.
Fortunes favoured Farran al'Terr through the night and into the following day, with the winds blowing in his favour, they made shore by noon, and had their army on dry land, ready to march by nightfall. Camp was set up just a mile inland, with fires lit and men laughing or dancing and singing. Scouts were sent out into the night to seek out any small villages nearby. Farran's command tent was set up. His Captains sat around a table with him, discussing what they might encounter, and how they should deal with the Seanchan. The overall feeling was very optimistic. The Kanadrians had fought the Seanchan many times, and only lost a small number of those engagements. The fact that the Seanchan leashed their channelers, whereas the Kanadrians had an entire regiment of women who channelled freely, might have helped. The Ares Milon Regiment was a very strong and well-known regiment across the Aryth Ocean, though here it's name had yet to be made. It would be though. About three thousand women who could channel using their honed abilities as weapons on the field was a formidable and memorable thing. They made sure to leave survivors, to spread the tale.
Now the Commander of the Ares Milon, Lieutenant-Colonel Kri Alrith, sat across the table from Farran. She was a pretty woman, though she had the hard eyes of an experienced soldier, and was generally quiet. Though when she spoke, most listened. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Yes, definitely a pretty woman. Farran then turned his attention to the man who was speaking. Major Kneef of the Heavy Cavalry. "We should press at dawn tomorrow, and hammer our way inland..." "That won't due, Kneef!" countered Major Hernish, an Infantry commander, "our foot won't keep up with your horse, and even your horses still have sea-legs." "Hernish is right," said Farran. Kri some others nodded. "We'll stay here another day and plan. Our scouts will make maps of the surrounding areas, and then when we're ready, we'll push inland, or to the nearest city. No point in killing man and horse trying to rush to the battlefield when you can make the others do the walking." This brought laughter and another round of ale for the score of commanders in the large extended tent.
By Gahzskul
[Author's Note] You'll have to excuse any errors on continuity between the prologue and the following chapters, as it's been several years between he prologue and this
point. Thanks. Thanks for the reviews, btw. To respond to one, I know none of the Asha'men know balefire, but hey, where's the fun in writing if you can't break some
rules! Thanks bud! One more thing- This chapter's kind short. Sorry, next one will be longer.
Chapter Four – Walk, Don't Run
Farran al'Terr could not help but grin. Land lay just on the horizon. He could have danced. His war was near.
In all his days soldiering, Farran had only ever been in two battles he'd lost, and that was back before he had any sort of command. Since then he'd been victorious. And he could only implore the light to keep it that way. Either way, the landings would start in a day or two. The fleet moved slowly due to it's size. They'd been months at sea, but now they were here. And there was their lands. And their impending victory. And the glory to be won for his country.
al'Terr was a Kanadrian, and had the personal blessing of King Cremon, the Lord of the Soul Stone, the Sitter of the Throne of the Dead, The keeper of the Crown of Bone, may the light hold him from the shadow for eternity. He had the King's blessing, and this gave him confidence. He did not fancy himself a patriot, but he was. He fought for his king, and for his country, and for his men. If those were threatened, he fought harder. And he won.
Another thought came to Farran. The Seanchan were out on that land somewhere. There was even talk in Kanadria of the Daughter of the Nine Moons having come with what they called 'The Return', along with many of the Seanchan's 'High Blood'. Farran grinned again, and turned to his Captains, still grinning. "The land's in sight, and we should be landing in a day or two. Get the men ready. Have the whetstones put to use. A fresh edge on every blade. A shining helm and breastplate on every man. I want to put fear in them before our swords!" The last words were shouted to that the men on the ship past the Captains would hear him. They cheered, sensing their Commander's confidence. Yes thought Farran, Tomorrow will be a good day.
Fortunes favoured Farran al'Terr through the night and into the following day, with the winds blowing in his favour, they made shore by noon, and had their army on dry land, ready to march by nightfall. Camp was set up just a mile inland, with fires lit and men laughing or dancing and singing. Scouts were sent out into the night to seek out any small villages nearby. Farran's command tent was set up. His Captains sat around a table with him, discussing what they might encounter, and how they should deal with the Seanchan. The overall feeling was very optimistic. The Kanadrians had fought the Seanchan many times, and only lost a small number of those engagements. The fact that the Seanchan leashed their channelers, whereas the Kanadrians had an entire regiment of women who channelled freely, might have helped. The Ares Milon Regiment was a very strong and well-known regiment across the Aryth Ocean, though here it's name had yet to be made. It would be though. About three thousand women who could channel using their honed abilities as weapons on the field was a formidable and memorable thing. They made sure to leave survivors, to spread the tale.
Now the Commander of the Ares Milon, Lieutenant-Colonel Kri Alrith, sat across the table from Farran. She was a pretty woman, though she had the hard eyes of an experienced soldier, and was generally quiet. Though when she spoke, most listened. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Yes, definitely a pretty woman. Farran then turned his attention to the man who was speaking. Major Kneef of the Heavy Cavalry. "We should press at dawn tomorrow, and hammer our way inland..." "That won't due, Kneef!" countered Major Hernish, an Infantry commander, "our foot won't keep up with your horse, and even your horses still have sea-legs." "Hernish is right," said Farran. Kri some others nodded. "We'll stay here another day and plan. Our scouts will make maps of the surrounding areas, and then when we're ready, we'll push inland, or to the nearest city. No point in killing man and horse trying to rush to the battlefield when you can make the others do the walking." This brought laughter and another round of ale for the score of commanders in the large extended tent.