Chapter 6
"And this report is an accurate account of what happened?"
"Yes Sir, I believe so."
"I have read it of course but I would prefer to hear it from you directly, if you please Von Kleist."
The formal tone made Stefan wince internally, but he took care to keep his face neutral and his posture rigidly at attention. Taking a deep breath he replied,
"We got fortunate with the mercenary survivor, Sir. The village he crawled into had no healer to speak of, but they tended to the man as best they could. One of the villagers took note of the man's fevered ramblings and was able to give us a good account of what he spoke of, before he died of his wounds. From his description I had a strong suspicion that the attackers were Beastmen although I couldn't be absolutely certain. Using the reports of the missing travellers and caravans gave us a rough idea of the area of forest in which the beasts were hiding. After that I let a few of the men loose in the local taverns to tell anyone who would listen that soon a caravan would be marching through a certain part of the woods and that the soldiers with it would be there to guard something important. After that I just had to hope that the bait would lure them into attacking."
"I see." The captain's tone gave no hint of approval. "And the Minotaur?"
"Some of the missing traders had travelled with good sized escorts, Sir, and yet none returned until that mercenary. I couldn't know for sure, but my best guess was that the beasts had something more than the average Ungors."
"And hence the ruse with the modified…war wagons."
"Yes Sir."
The entire time Stefan had been delivering his report his gaze had been firmly fixed on a point on the wall a foot above the Captain's head, now however the sound of a low chuckle made him glance down to see the Captain grinning at him from behind his desk.
"You may stand at ease Stefan. Tell me were you aware that other patrols had been sent out to deal with this threat? Not a single one had made any progress until you. Officers far more senior shown up by a newly minted, wet behind the ears cadet."
"I'm sorry Sir it was never my intention…"
"I'm not chastising you Stefan, in fact, quite the opposite! I chose you because you showed me something different that day on the battlefield. You have excelled in your training since and now you return with a resounding victory in your first field command. I see great potential in you young Stefan and the Empire is in desperate need of capable men. Just remember that not every mission will end so well."
"I'll remember that Sir,"
"See that you do. Now go, sample some of Altdorf's many…delights. You have earned the rest but report back here day after tomorrow. Our enemies wait for no man, and I'll have a new assignment for you then. Dismissed."
…
Striding through the corridors of the regimental barracks, passing by the lecture halls and training yards Stefan could not help but reflect on how much his life had changed in the last year. With the orcs defeated four days of solid marching had seen the regiment return to Altdorf bloodied but victorious. Stefan and Kurt had barely been back in their barracks a day when a Corporal appeared with orders to report to the Captain's office. Once there they had been stunned with the news that Kurt was to be promoted to Sergeant effective immediately and was straight away assigned to training and recruiting a new regiment currently being assembled. As for Stefan he was to be promoted to cadet and sent to officer training to gain the necessary skills to take up a commission in the State army.
The following months had been a blur for Stefan. Mornings had been taken up with endless physical drills, cadets were put through gruelling exercises designed to strengthen their bodies for the trials of combat ahead. Stefan wasn't fully aware of it but gone now was the callow boy who couldn't fill out his armour and in his place was a young man toned fit by the rigours of repetitious training. The afternoons had consisted of weapons practice. For months a host of different instructors had taught them the use of every weapon available to the Empire of man. An officer was expected to have a working knowledge of all the empire's armoury and while Stefan was never a champion in the competitions between his peers, he was quite capable of holding his own when it came to swordsmanship and black powder weaponry. In particular, the handguns and artillery pieces of the engineers fascinated him, and he took every opportunity he was given to learn and practice his marksmanship.
It wasn't all training of the body, however. Many evenings were taken up learning the more 'cerebral' arts of war as the Captain called it. Classes on military history, lessons on tactics and strategy, information on the various elector states and their military forces all were considered necessary knowledge. Many of his peers simply paid lip service to this aspect of their training but Stefan found that he had a knack for it. Ideas of strategy seemed to come naturally to him and many times he found himself deep in discussion with a tutor about how an ancient battle may have gone differently if a certain tactic had been employed or avoided. From time-to-time Stefan would be summoned to the Captain's office and on these occasions, Stefan would learn of the multitude of enemies that the Empire faced. In the Captain's own words there were things that Stefan wasn't allowed to know but he did what he could to educate him on the broader points about many of the races that the Empire, and he personally, had fought over the years.
With so much to learn free time was not a luxury Stefan had enjoyed as the year passed by. One morning however instead of mustering in the drill yard he was summoned to the Captain for what Stefan had assumed was to be another lesson. Instead, he had been given command of his own troop and orders to investigate rumours of disappearing merchants in the Reikwald forest.
"I think you'll find your new first Sergeant to your liking", the Captain had said with a wry grin as he waved Stefan out the door.
The memory of finding Kurt standing at attention at the head of his new troop brought a smile to Stefan's face and he decided that he would take the Captain up on his advice. The only trouble was he had absolutely no idea how to go about it. The sheer absurdity of the thought flummoxed Stefan for a moment before he came up with an idea. Stopping by his billet to change his tunic Stefan next headed to the barracks gatehouse. A few minutes later he emerged leaving behind two very bemused sentries and strode off into the night.
Stefan felt the noise and the energy of the city rise the further he got from the barracks. He didn't have to travel far. Soldiers were good for business and many people made their livelihoods within sight of the barracks walls. As he walked Stefan passed drapers, blacksmiths and apothecaries to name but a few along with all the obligatory eating houses and taverns. In fact, it was one of the latter in particular he now sought out. Using the directions, the sentries had given him, and stopping once or twice to ask passers-by, Stefan found himself leaving the busier streets behind and heading deeper into the warren of back alleys and dimly lit streets that lay behind the main thoroughfares. As the streets grew darker and less travelled so too did Stefan's sense of foreboding. While he had grown up in Altdorf life in the orphanage had left little time for idle exploration and in many ways, Stefan knew as little about many of the city's districts as the most far-flung traveller did. Reaching down Stefan made sure his dagger was within easy reach and loose in it's sheath. Young he may be but he was no fool, if someone wished to chance taking his coin he would not be caught unawares. Pressing on it wasn't long before Stefan spied his destination. Up ahead warm light spilled out onto the road from a building set on the corner of the next junction. A sign hung lopsidedly above a door, one of it's having chains weathered away. Tilting his head Stefan read the name, "The Last Stand". Nodding to himself that he had come to the right place he reached for the door handle taking care not to pass beneath the precariously hanging sign. A rush of hot stale air greeted him as he pulled open the door and stepped inside. The tavern was busy, the tang of sweat mixed with the smell of wood smoke combined to make the air heavy and close. A roaring fire occupied one wall and a long bar faced the door from the back of the room. Very few of the patrons paid any attention to the newcomer stepping through the door so Stefan paused as he sought of those he had come to find. Spying them sat at a round table close to the bar he pushed through the crowd and made his way towards them. As he neared the table the man sitting with his back to him was animatedly telling a story making great use of his hands to demonstrate what he was describing. The men around him were clearly enjoying the tale, one of the men snorting froth from his drink as the storyteller cried out in merriment. Stefan watched as the man wiped the froth from his beard before looking up and spotting Stefan moving towards them. Stefan saw the look on the man's face change from humour to dismay before he rapidly assumed a neutral expression. Rising quickly to his feet the man saluted and stood to attention.
"Sir!"
Alerted now the others all quickly stood and saluted. Appalled Stefan suddenly felt he had made a terrible error of judgement. On impulse he had sought out the sergeants of his troop, asking the gate sentries where the men normally drank when off duty. Stefan had thought nothing of the action simply thinking that soldiers were soldiers and a drink was a drink but now seeing the discomfort of the men standing at attention and saluting he realised that perhaps there were some lines that could not be crossed. Already people around them were turning to stare and Stefan felt his neck begin to flush as he desperately tried to think of an excuse to extricate himself from the situation. He was saved from the embarrassment by the groups storyteller who was the last to rise to his feet turning now to face Stefan. Seeing his predicament his face broke into a wide grin and he spoke loud enough for all the others to hear.
"Now now lads no need for all that formality. Mr. Stefan here don't usually stand on ceremony. If I was a gambling man, which ye all know I am, I'd say the Captain has turned our young officer here loose for the night and like us all he has come searching for a drink to toast his success. Would I have the right of it Sir?"
Finding his voice Stefan replied,
"Indeed, First Sergeant."
"Excellent Sir! I see however you are alone, could I tempt you to join our company for the next round?"
Trying hard not to show his relief Stefan waved his hand indicating the men should be at ease. After an awkward pause the men relaxed and retook their seats with Kurt pulling up an extra chair for Stefan.
"A most gracious invitation men which I humbly accept. And it would be only fitting that I offer my thanks by buying the next round!"
Stefan's announcement drew a cheer from the assembled Sergeants as he caught the attention of a passing serving woman. The drinks ordered Kurt banged the table with a hand,
"Now where was I? Ah yes...now the beast was this big you see…" Kurt continued holding his hands wide apart.
As his friend drew the group back into his story Stefan passed out the drinks, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. Waiting for a moment he caught his friend's eye giving a barely perceptible nod of thanks. A slight widening of his grin was the only indication his friend gave as he carried on with his tall tale.
"It would seem that not all battles are fought with weapons" he mused to himself.
Shaking off his introspection he leaned forward, taking a long swig of his drink and before long he found himself laughing along with the rest.
