A cloud of dust rose over the camp, hardened crem pulverized by falling picks and kicked up by a thousand shuffling feet. A stiff breeze blew it into town opposite the direction of a storm. Windspren played in the eddying flow of air around Kaladin's legs as he marched toward camp.
"It's not a problem that we're leaving; it's just—" Rtama shouted, struggling to keep up with Kaladin's longer stride. "It's just not what we talked about."
"Plans change. Your mistress and the war council made their decision." The strategy they had devised depended upon the control of information. Enemy spies lurked about camp and in town. Rtama had already declared herself to be one of them. Though she seemed loyal enough, she didn't need to know the whole truth just now. "One battle lost. Don't worry about it."
"Less than two hours ago, the Highprince and—pht-pht." She spit out some sand which had blown into her mouth. "I thought we had come to an agreement."
"Are you surprised that a great lighteyes would break his word?" Kaladin chuckled. "You'd know better than me, but I assumed they all did that."
The source of the clouds of dust appeared ahead—pits and trenches cut straight into the earth. The sounds of picks and hammers echoed across the plain. Men slick with sweat hauled cremstone blocks onto sleds. Others dragged the sleds towards a growing pile in the distance. Restees and Melys had set the darkeyes to building stormbreaks, massive structures sturdy enough to shield men from the brunt of the storm. Open to the sky, they were hardly better than sleeping in a hole cut in the ground, except you wouldn't drown.
Kaladin would not miss this part of being a soldier. Cutting, dragging, and piling up stone just for the privilege of soaking to the bone all night. Much as he hated to admit it, the daily drudgery of soldiering nearly broke him when he first enlisted. Other boys in Hearthstone grew up with the daily routine of farmwork, preparing them for a life of intense labor. As a surgeon's apprentice, Kaladin had been pampered by comparison. He had to work twice as hard as anyone else just to build up his strength and endurance. He wondered how he would have ever caught up if he were exempted from hard labor like the lighteyed soldiers.
Darkeyed men looked up from their labors and stared enviously as the shardblade cut effortlessly into the earth that their picks only chipped at. Kaladin felt their eyes but pressed forward towards his own squad's tent. While all the others in this section of camp were empty and in various states of disassembly, Kaladin's squad stood idly around, some on guard, but most talking animatedly.
Toorim noticed him first and rushed over. "Sir!" he shouted, "Is it true what those lighteyes have been saying? You're forming your own Honor Guard?"
It seemed Yeshal spread that rumor as he had promised. "Yes, I've been promoted to Battalionlord, and I have free pick of any soldier in camp."
The squad crowded around Kaladin and Rtama, bombarding him with a thousand questions, only one of which really mattered. "What are we going to do now?" asked Acis breathlessly.
"After tomorrow night's storm, we're leaving camp with everything we need for a long journey. We'll be many weeks on the road." The men fell quiet, thinking of what that could mean. "I need your help in organizing the battalion by that time."
"Us?" wondered Coreb. "Sir, you're the one that's gonna be lighteyes. I—I'm just a—"
"You're a Squadleader now. Navar too. And I want you to pick four Sergeants each." Kaladin didn't have time to baby his men today; the next two days were a critical period. "Tonight I need you all to go out recruiting. Eighty reliable spearmen, men you trust. Or at least men you don't distrust. And not all from our battalion." Coreb nodded. Navar glanced at Rtama, then away. He didn't trust ardents, Kaladin remembered with a frown. "This is Brightness Rtama of the Devotary of Sincerity. She is the scribe Sadeas has given me to assist in running the battalion and maintaining the Shardplate."
"Where is the plate?" she interjected. "I should begin repairing it immediately." She stood as tall as she could in this circle of men. Rtama put on the airs of a lighteyed lady, filled her voice with all the authority due to an ardent, but the look on her face betrayed nerves. Luckily for her, the men were too busy sharing glances with each other to notice.
"The plate can wait," Kaladin said. "What we need now is to secure supplies and get organized. Navar, Coreb, pick your sergeants and divide the rest of the men between you. Stay alert until I return." Both men saluted, and the squad turned back to the tent. Kaladin marched on with Rtama following at a trot.
"Eighty men?" she wondered aloud. "Plus your twenty, and only two squadleaders..."
"In my battalion, squads are fifty men, sub-squads are ten. Companies are two hundred and fifty, and platoons..." Kaladin trailed off. "Platoons don't exist."
"What? So for every two hundred and fifty soldiers there is only one officer in command?!" She sounded scandalized.
"One lighteyed officer," Kaladin said flatly. "Squadleaders will serve in the place of captainlords in darkeyed units. My men don't need a lighteyes to hold their hand on the battlefield." And Kaladin couldn't think of any lighteyes he'd entrust with the command. Yeshal obeyed him well enough, but how would he treat darkeyes beneath him?
Rtama remained silent for a long time before speaking again. "I didn't expect you to be so prejudiced, now that you're one of us."
"Prejudiced," Kaladin scoffed. "Common sense. Some lighteyes in this army has already tried to poison me today, and he won't be the last. Every lighteyes I invite into my battalion is another potential assassin or spy."
"Are darkeyes incapable of deceit now?"
"They just don't get as much practice."
Kaladin found Yeshal conferring with a group of lighteyed men outside the warcenter. He dismissed them as Kaladin approached and offered a shallow bow. "I'm glad to see you in one piece," he said, half joking. "I've never been able to stand up to Restees before, let alone Melys. Did everything go as you intended?"
"More or less," Kaladin murmured, keeping an eye out for eavesdroppers. "How many men do you have under your command now?"
"Twenty-one, including the walking wounded. Why?"
"I want you to fill out your platoon. Young men of the eighth dahn that you trust. If you need more lieutenants, promote from within." Many lighteyed officers were accompanied by their wives or daughters, but Kaladin wanted as few spanreads in his battalion as possible. "By the way, you're a Companylord now. It's up to you to choose your replacement."
His face stuck halfway between joy and bewilderment. "Yes, sir," he stuttered out eventually. "It's an honor, sir."
"Be honored later; we have too much to do right now," Kaladin said. "There was an attempt on my life at the council—poison, but it missed—who among the lighteyed officers would you suspect of this?"
Yeshal's bewilderment only grew worse. "Anyone close to you, I guess. One who might lay claim to the shards in the confusion."
"Why not just knife me in the back and be done with it?"
"That would invite an inquiry for murder," Rtama interjected, annoyed. "Lighteyes can't just go around blatantly killing each other."
"Poison followed by theft isn't blatant?"
Yeshal shrugged. "It's more common than you'd think. If you died naturally without an heir or were incapacitated while bonding the blade, anyone would be entitled to seize your shards. Even if it was later determined to be a poisoning, unless the guilt was proven beyond all doubt, the new owner of the blade and plate would probably not be punished. Of course, the only possible punishment for a shardbearer is death."
That gave Kaladin pause. "Is that really true?" he asked, looking between Rtama and Yeshal. They exchanged a bemused expression and nodded.
"You can't exactly imprison a shardbearer," Yeshal explained. "I suppose a Highprince could revoke a Shardbearer's property, but that would just alienate him. Unlike most lighteyes, a Shardbearer carries nine-tenths of his wealth on his back—or wherever shardblades go when they're dismissed. They can swear themselves to a new Highprince whenever they want and suffer little actual loss of station or income. Therefore, the only way to realistically punish them for a crime is to kill them outright."
So that's how it was. Kaladin finally understood how the battalionlords must see him. Basically immune from the justice system, he could cause all kinds of havoc for the army. Maybe he should.
"Change of plans, Yeshal," Kaladin said. "I want you and your men to spread the word: Any man who wants to join my honor guard should assemble here at nightfall, darkeyed or light, officer or enlisted. I won't promise them a position or rank, but no one will be considered unless they present themselves."
Yeshal nodded in the affirmative. Kaladin dismissed him and took off again at a brisk walk, Rtama trailing behind. "Another change of plans?" she huffed.
"Expect many more."
"And where are we going now?"
"We're going to rob the army."
The supply depot lay near the warcenter among the circled wagon trains. Four wagons pushed up against one another formed the paymaster's office, one of which was reinforced with a soulcast steel cage. Kaladin ducked into the office with his blade held delicately before him. Though he intended to pilfer the place, he didn't want to slice through a doorway or floorboard without cause. In spite of his careful manner, a clerk at the front desk squeaked like a kicked axehound as he entered. It seemed she had been doodling on a spare bit of paper when he had walked in.
"B-Brightlord Stormblessed! W-What are you—I mean—what is it I can do for you?"
"I had hoped you could help me with some math I can't quite figure," Kaladin said, carefully laying the shardblade flat across his shoulder. "For a battalion of four hundred darkeyed soldiers and one hundred lighteyed soldiers, including officers, how much are they paid each month?"
The frazzled clerk began calculating the figures as Kaladin pushed past her. Rtama followed after him wearing an unpleasant expression. The door to the fortified wagon seemed to have originally been constructed out of ordinary lumber, but a soulcaster had transformed about half the planks into steel.
"Is this where gems for soulcasters are kept?" Kaladin asked, gesturing to the barred and reinforced door.
"Yes," Rtama replied, "but they are rationed out; you need to officially requisition them."
"This thing seems pretty official to me," Kaladin said with a look back at the shardblade.
Rtama seemed to force her voice to be calm, but a bubbling pool of angerspren at her feet betrayed her true emotions.
"You possess an ancient and holy artifact of incalculable value. An artifact that makes you dangerous and important." She waved her soulcaster in his face. "So do I. That doesn't give either of us permission to act like one of the ten fools. It costs you nothing to do this properly."
Kaladin could never keep the ten fools straight in his head, but he was pretty sure none of them ever robbed an army's payroll at shard-point.
"It would cost me time and patience, which I don't have to spare," he said with a hard look. Rtama met his eyes, undaunted. Kaladin was about to continue when he noticed the clerk waiting, the spare piece of paper clutched in her hands.
"Brightlord, I have the number," she said meekly.
Kaladin nodded. "Go ahead."
"The base rate of pay for four hundred darkeyed spearmen with a mark of veterancy amounts to two hundred and fifty clearmarks a month each, one hundred thousand clearmarks total, plus an extra fifty clearmarks per month for sergeants, one hundred for squad leaders."
"The base rate of pay for one hundred lighteyed soldiers is ten thousand skychips a month total, plus an emerald broam for each Lieutenant, two for each Captainlord, four for each Companylord, and... sixteen emerald broams for yourself. The total to be paid out is one hundred and four thousand clearmarks, ten thousand skychips, and sixty emerald broams." She finished cheerily, clearly proud of her quick sums.
Kaladin's head swirled with spheres. "Why are lighteyes paid with different gems?" he wondered aloud, before the obvious answer occurred to him. Two skychips a day wasn't really that much money, only twice the value of a darkeye's five clearmarks a day, but the higher denomination made it feel more significant. And officers would, of course, demand to be paid in emerald broams, the highest denomination of spheres. "Forget it. How much do you have on hand right now?"
"Oh plenty, Brightlord," the clerk said with a laugh, "thousands of broams. You and your men will be paid on time; no need to worry."
"No, I mean how much can you part with right this instant? I'm taking a contingent of soldiers to the Shattered Plains on the Highprince's wishes and need at least a month's wages for the trip."
"This instant?" the clerk repeated. She looked between Kaladin and Rtama, suddenly nervous.
"Yes. And I need to replace the gems in the shardplate I won. Two are shattered, and I'll need some more in case others do as well. They are all smokestones if that matters." Rtama huffed loudly. "Oh, and throw in some gems for the Brightlady's soulcaster too. What are those, amethysts?"
The clerk looked embarrassed. "Well, you see, I can only make disbursements when the paymaster receives an official..." She trailed off as Kaladin rested the shardblade against the hinges of the wagon door.
"Requisition form?" Kaladin finished for her. "We could wait for Brightness Rtama to fill one out, run it over the unconscious General Seti, miraculously revive him, and get his approval, but I don't think this door will survive that long. So why don't you start counting out spheres, and we can pretend that all of that is already happening and we're just getting a head start."
The clerk froze for three solid seconds before she grabbed her keys out from under her desk and rushed to the door. Kaladin made way for her with a friendly wave, and Rtama stepped aside as well. As the scribe unlocked the door, a wash of stormlight spilled out, more than Kaladin had seen in his entire life.
He remembered the pile of spheres his men had poured out into the shardplate the previous night, the bowl of spheres his father had hoarded for his education, and the robbers at the door banished by the light. For an instant, Kaladin felt a pang of shame at what he was doing. Only a few minutes ago he had realized the normal rules didn't apply to him, and in that instant he had decided to abuse his status.
Then, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he felt a burning anger rise within him. The bubbling pool under Rtama's feet migrated over to Kaladin, basking in his heat. Inside the fortified wagon were shelves, crates, and jars filled with countless glowing spheres and massive gems unlike any Kaladin had ever seen. This obscene display dwarfed the little hoard his father and Roshone had feuded over all those years. Kaladin's father had risked his life, put his family through damnation, and lost both of his sons for one ten-thousandth of this wealth, and yet it just sat there, fodder for a meaningless war. A war Kaladin had agreed to keep fighting.
The clerk opened a chest and began plucking out emerald broams five at a time and depositing them in a thick leather pouch. It swelled quickly, and soon she set it aside and began filling another. Each, she said, would have one hundred emerald broams, and he would need to visit the money changer if he wanted clearmarks or skychips. Every month, lesser denominations had to be ordered from a mint in Mourn's Vault by the wagonload to pay all the soldiers in the army.
Kaladin counted in his head: he made thirty-five clearmarks a week as a squadleader. If he had saved ten a week every week for the next twenty years, for the length of an entire career in the army, he would have enough savings to fill up one bag. What would he have done with it? Idle and angry fantasies played out in his head as the clerk counted out the spheres.
"What could you possibly be mad about?" Rtama wondered aloud, staring at the spren around his ankles. "You are getting exactly what you want."
Kaladin had no real answer for her. Of course, an army paid out thousands of broams each month; it had thousands of men in it. He wasn't angry that the army cost this much, but that there was a man with this much to spend. Highprince Sadeas did not need to own the Michim Flats. The land probably wasn't worth the spheres he had already spent trying to acquire it. But he spent them anyway.
"Why did you tell the Captainlord about what happened, but not your men?"
Kaladin looked at Rtama, uncertain what she meant for a moment, but then realized—the poison."I... I didn't want to worry them. They have a job to do. If something did happen... well, it'd be safer if they weren't too close. They might do something stupid trying to protect me."
"They're that loyal, huh?" Rtama asked, a shaved eyebrow raised.
"Yes, they are." Kaladin had no doubt that every man in that squad would die to protect the others, including himself. "I can't say the same for every darkeyed soldier, but my men are different. In battle, we don't fight for honor, glory, or personal gain. We fight for the man beside us. That is how I trained them."
Rtama still wore a dubious expression. "Loyalty is a matter of circumstances," she said dismissively. "In battle a man may either hold firm or break and run. That's a choice between two types of danger. But what if it were a choice between danger and reward? Your men may have faced death in battle, but have they ever been forced to turn down a bribe? You don't actually know what their loyalty is worth yet."
That... was true. Kaladin winced at Rtama's logic, but he couldn't deny it. He had built his squad around mutual protection on the battlefield, where they all shared the same danger. The threat plaguing him now was not the same; allying with Kaladin put them in danger, and betraying him could earn them a new life. That same dilemma would apply to everyone close to him.
The clerk piled up eight pouches into an unused strongbox, then counted out some more spheres into an ordinary cloth pouch and handed it directly to Kaladin. As she turned to collect the larger gems, Kaladin opened up the cloth pouch and counted. Thirty emerald broams, more money than he had ever held at once, glowed bright as Nomon in the bottom of the pouch. Something about them made Kaladin sad.
.
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The afternoon sun baked what was left of the camp as they passed the warcenter. Almost all of the tents had been taken down, and all darkeyed soldiers were busy cutting, carrying, or laying stone on the plain. The lighteyed soldiers still wandering about, some still celebrating the victory the previous day, others quietly gossiping. Kaladin didn't need to overhear them to know what they were gossiping about.
Under one arm, Kaladin carried the strongbox, and over his shoulder he carried the shardblade. His shardblade, he reminded himself. Kaladin had trouble reconciling who he was now with who he had been the previous morning. He had been a spearman, hadn't he? He was meant to carry a spear, but that wasn't an option anymore. Lighteyes didn't use spears, shardbearers least of all. He didn't know if his eyes had turned yet; he was too afraid to ask.
"How long do I have to carry this thing around before it... y'know." Kaladin didn't know much about Shardblades, but he knew it took ten heartbeats to summon them, which meant they had to... dis-summon somehow?
"It takes five days to bond a blade," Rtama said. "Then you will be able to dismiss it at will."
"How does that work?"
Rtama glanced over at him. She had been quiet since they left the paymaster's office. He wouldn't blame her for still being angry, but the spren had seemingly abandoned them both.
"I... don't know how it works really. Shardblades are not very well understood. They are ancient fabrials unlike anything we have today. The bond has many effects; apparently you're supposed to be able to hear your heart beating."
Kaladin could feel the bond in the back of his head like an itch on the inside of his skull but couldn't hear anything. "I need training," he said under his breath.
Rtama glanced over again. "I think the best you can do is practice. There are only a handful of men who've been trained with plate and blade, and almost all of them are on the Shattered Plains."
"How long will it take to fix the plate?"
"A few hours with the Almighty's aid. And yours, you'll need to sit for the regrowing process."
"Sit?" Kaladin said.
"If you want the plate to match your height and build, you'll need to put on the chestplate and other parts. The missing sections will regrow to fit your dimensions. By the way, what color do you want it to be?"
"Color?" The armor was gold, same as the shardblade. Kaladin figured they were a... matching set? "I didn't know they could change color."
"They don't change," Rtama laughed. "You paint them! With your house colors, which I suppose you have to decide on at some point."
The amount that Kaladin didn't know was astounding, but he couldn't afford to be embarrassed. No question he asked would be stupid if it saved him in the future. "Is there a bond with the plate like the blade?"
"No, well... The plate does mold to the body, even when it's not been regrown."
"That's incredible," Kaladin said. "Can the blade change shape?"
"A little, I think. I know there's something they put on it to make it dull for sparring."
"What?!" Kaladin couldn't believe it. He'd been cutting holes in the floor everywhere he walked for nothing. Even now, holding the blade in his shoulder, he was afraid of slipping and accidentally cutting his head off. "Do you have one? How are they made? Why don't they make shields out of it?"
"No." Rtama recoiled from his sudden interest. "I don't know how to make one. And I don't think that's how they work."
"Damnation, that's inconvenient."
Rtama chuckled at that, shaking her head. "Brightlord, you are somehow both more clever and more foolish than I suspected when we first met."
"Why? Because I ask questions?"
"Perhaps." Rtama said under her breath. Kaladin waited for her, but she didn't elaborate. She just walked in the same practiced, elegant gait as ever, not even looking towards him.
"You are more principled than I first suspected," Kaladin said, putting an impertinent bite into his voice.
"Oh? In what way?"
"When I met you yesterday, the first thing you did was almost incite a duel between Gylan and myself. Then you looted the Veden's corpse and returned here to do the same to the Highmarshal. But today you took offense at my accelerated requisitioning techniques."
"I also took offense at your plans for the battalion. What does that tell you?"
"That you respect the letter of the law but will push the boundaries to do your job. You should understand that I am similar, only I don't really know the letter of the law. It was never taught to me. So I just do what I think is right and deal with the consequences later. When I was a squadleader, my superior's battle plan was only a suggestion. If I thought an attack was necessary, I made it, if I thought it was suicidal, I didn't. I was the worst kind of subordinate an officer could ask for, and I was the best. That is how I won my shards. You should tell Highprince Sadeas that. It will make our relationship run more smoothly in the long run."
"No," Rtama said after a lengthy silence. "I won't report that to the Highprince. Autobiographical information like that is rarely reliable. I only report what I see with my own eyes. All I saw today was a man cut through five feet of red tape with a six-foot sword."
Fair enough, Kaladin thought. In this new position, he would have to prove himself all over again.
Back at the tent, Kaladin's squad seemed to be in high spirits. Several crates had been stacked nearby, apparently containing rations. The men were eating lavis bread smeared with some kind of jelly and talking with some others as well. Kavel was there, looming over the rest, and so was Sergeant Haber, his blade dead arm now in a sling.
"Stormblessed!" Kavel said, running up to greet him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning to... uh—" He looked back at the squad, almost embarrassed. "I meant to accompany you, but you had already left."
"I don't think a bodyguard is quite necessary," Kaladin said, continuing towards the rest of his squad, "but I do need squadleaders."
"That's why I brought Haber, sir," Kavel said, gesturing to the crippled sergeant. Kaladin tried to look the older man in the eye, but he had a far-off expression. He winced as Kavel clapped him on the back. "Haber is a legend among Amaram's Guard, and he knows you, knows what you can do."
'What I can do?' Kaladin thought. He wondered whether Kavel was referring to his fight with the Shardbearer or his rescuing of the army afterwards. He owed both victories to the men around him. Haber, Kavel, and dozens of others had shown incredible bravery and skill in those fights. If Kaladin was being honest, any of them had as good a claim on the shards as he did.
"I told the man I wouldn't be much use to you, sir, but... if you have a place for my men..." Haber trailed off, his eyes downcast.
"Tell me, Sergeant, how long have you been in the army?" Kaladin asked.
"Nineteen years, sir, and I've not regretted it once. But I'm no use now. The men are trained up good, though, sir, brave and strong. They'll serve you well."
Nineteen storming years, Kaladin thought. The man had been at war as long as Kaladin had been alive. "Can I ask you a sensitive question, Haber?" Kaladin said, conscious of the older man's recently frayed psyche. "Why are you a Sergeant and not a Squadleader?"
Haber barked a laugh, then winced, his cracked ribs punishing him. "I earned my knots the same as you," he said after catching his breath. "Twelve years as a spearman in the light infantry. But after the Highmarshal received his posting, he put out the call for the best infantry, lighteyed or dark, for his Honorguard. Only problem was, no squadleaders in the rank structure. Cost of having a mixed unit. I took the hit to the rank for the sake of fighting with the best left in the Princedom. Most of my old squad got sent to the Shattered Plains, but I felt like my place was here. It's all over now, I suppose. I just wished I coulda made it an even twenty years."
The Sergeant got a far-off look in his eyes then, his weather-beaten face covered in creases and scars. The years had not been kind to this man, or rather the army hadn't been kind. Kaladin felt in that moment he was looking at a version of himself, the person he might have become in a decade or two, worn out, tired, and crippled, facing a grim and uncertain retirement from the only profession he'd ever really known.
"I need your help, Sergeant," Kaladin said. "Would you do one more year with me? As a Squadleader?"
"Storm off," Haber scoffed and looked away. You don't need a one-armed spearman. I didn't come here for your pity; I came to thank you..."
"Save it," Kaladin interrupted. "We wouldn't have defeated the shardbearer if you and your men hadn't joined. You paid the price, and I got the reward. I owe you more than my thanks, but this offer isn't part of that. I need a man who can lead a shield wall, who can keep the men in order when I'm not there. And I need people I can trust with my life, as many as I can get."
They shared an intense look for several seconds. Haber looked at his feet but nodded. Kaladin thought he might be crying and patted him on the shoulder. Then he looked towards the rest of the men assembled. "At dusk, I'll be making an announcement to the whole camp, so I want to let you know first. After tomorrow night's Highstorm, we are leaving the army on the Highprince's order. Me and five hundred men. It'll be a long journey, and at the end you won't find riches, just more danger. I won't hold it against any of you if you choose to go home, and I will buy out anyone's enlistment contract if they want to leave the army. But if you want to... follow me on this path, come forward now."
The whole squad looked on him reverently, listening to his words but hearing what they wanted to hear. When he finished, whispers of the Shattered Plain erupted. He wouldn't lie to his men, not directly, but he knew they would jump to this conclusion. It was the dream he had filled them all with for months, the reason he pushed them to be proactive in battle, hunting for glory on the off chance of being sent to a real war, where all Alethi stood as one against a common enemy. Kaladin wasn't sure he wanted that anymore.
To his disappointment, but not surprise, none of his men chose to leave the army. One by one they each approached him and gave their oath in their own way: Navar, seriously; Raksha, sarcastically; Acis with an enthusiasm reserved only for the young and ignorant. Toorim shook Kaladin's hand but looked past him.
Kaladin took out the half-filled bag of spheres the scribe had given him, and into each of his soldiers hands, he placed a full emerald broam. Rtama nodded her approval, but Kaladin felt unclean, as if he had polluted something pure with money. Something deep inside Kaladin told him that loyalty bought was worth less than loyalty given freely, but this was a precaution he had to take. None of his soldiers should ever feel pressured by poverty to compromise themselves.
Kavel approached last, grasping Kaladin's hand firmly and looking him eye to eye. The others knew Kaladin from before, Kaladin the spearman and Squadleader, but Kavel only knew Kaladin the Hero, Kaladin the Shardbearer. The intensity of his devotion made Kaladin nervous; it was like the bond of the blade, itching in the back of his head. This man's loyalty was like a weapon, sharp and dangerous, not to be wielded lightly.
With that finished, Kaladin dismissed his men, sending them out into the camp to start recruiting. He and Rtama entered the tent and began to repair the Shardplate.
..
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Author's Note
I want to say thank you to the reviewers for your kind words, I'm sorry for being slow in uploading, the holidays distracted me. I have never published any writing before, but I'm enjoying the process so far. Hope to have another chapter finished by the end of next week. My aim is to take the story all the way through the battle of Narak before the next stormlight book gets released. This first part of the story is really important to establish this AU version of Kaladin: who is he without the loss of his men, Amaram's betrayal, and months of slavery? who is he if his most remote childhood dream became a reality? I look forward to exploring this less traumatized, more bold version of the character, along with the original characters I've populated the army with. I'd love to hear which of these are your favorite and what you think is going on with them.
I have done a lot of worldbuilding on Amaram's army, which I figured I might as well share:
Before the battle, the army was composed of about 6,000 men in 10 battalions of varying size. There were 4000 darkeyed soldiers and 2000 lighteyed soldiers. The army is divided in three sections lead by generals, the left wing, right wing, and reserves, each of which have two smaller Light Infantry Battalions, with lighteyed archers and darkeyed spearmen, and one larger Line Infantry Battalion, with lighteyed heavy infantry and darkeyed pikemen. The tenth battalion was Amaram's honor guard, which had two heavy infantry companies and two cavalry squadrons.
The way battles are described in Kaladin's flashbacks are incredibly chaotic and, from his perspective, make little sense, but I think I have rationalized a strategy that makes the chaos more understandable. The way it works in my version is that Amaram typically deploys the left and right apart from one another enticing the enemy to meet them. Skirmishing ensues, and then the main battlelines meet. The light infantry's job would be to flank around and harass the enemy while the pikes clash in a more stationary struggle. As the battle ensues, Amaram would commit his reserve battalions one at a time to reinforce the lines, and when he sees an opening he would rush in with his honor guard. Considering most soldiers on either side of the battle are conscripts, concentrating your veterans into a single unit maximizes their impact on the battlefield.
After the battle, there were about ~1000 dead, ~1000 badly wounded, ~1000 lightly wounded, and 3000 in good condition on Amaram's side. The reserves took the worst casualties, and their soldiers are mostly being shifted into the other two wings. As for Hallaw's forces, they came to the battle with only 5000 men, but suffered about the same number of casualties, however many of their wounded ended up being captured. Their army composition involves about 1000 cavalry, which they prefer as they can skirmish and harass better than light infantry while also being more effective in a charge. These cavalry also escaped mostly unscathed.
As for the sphere calculation, I made my best guess on how normal soldiers would get paid, depending on rank and status. Basically the base rate of pay for a darkeyes is 20 clearmarks a week. Once you've seen battle you get a mark of veterancy, which boosts it up to 25 clearmarks a week. Sergeants get another 5 mark raise, and Squadleaders get 5 more than a sergeant. Being in an elite unit might also earn you a bonus. This seems fair, however lighteyed soldiers by default get paid double a darkeyes wage, meaning the lowest ranked archer was better paid than any spearman. Nominally their positions are more "skilled" but really it's just a class distinction. Additionally, they get paid in sky chips instead of clearmarks. Each lighteyed officer's rank bonus is double that of the previous rank because each comes with a change in Dahn, one Emerald Broam for 7th dahn, two for 6th, four for 5th, eight for 4th (and eight more emerald broams for Kal because ha is a Shardbearer, who is expected to hire a whole crew to maintain his plate at some point).
The assumed rank structure of Kaladins Battalion is that he will have three companies, one for lighteyes with about ~100 men in it and two for darkeyes with about ~200 men. Each company would have two platoons, each with about five squads. The average darkeyed squad has 20 men, including the squadleader and two sergeants, while lighteyed squads typically have ~10 men including the lieutenant. Additionally each officer has a lieutenant as his personal aide (though there is no precedent for this in the books, I just think it makes sense).
In total there should be one battalionlord, three companylords, six captains, twenty lieutenants, twenty squadleaders, and forty sergeants total
Kaladin's actual plan is to have only two companylords, two captainlords, fifteen lieutenants, eight squadleaders, and thirty two sergeants, so he's going to save a lot on officers salaries, which is how he is able to bribe his men with a full broam apiece.