“Nonsense,” objected Asger.
Roper let that comment receive the silence it deserved for a moment. “You always interested me as a choice for Lieutenant of the Guard, Asger,” he said at last. “I have never seen it first-hand, but have been informed several times that you do not really have the martial capability to be a guardsman, let alone Lieutenant of the Guard. Nor is your leadership held in high regard.” Asger’s face was flooding with colour but he dared not respond. Pryce, sitting next to him, had shifted on his log so that he was directly facing the isolated lieutenant. Roper continued, slowly and deliberately enraging Asger. “There are even those who doubt you belong in Ramnea’s Own Legion, though I cannot believe every story of cowardice that comes to my ears. Despite all this, your rise to prominence has been nothing short of meteoric since your childhood friend Uvoren came to captain the Guard.” The assessment, coming from the mouth of one so young and directed at a man as proud as Asger, could blister. Several of the legates were biting back smiles as they listened. Asger, so transparent in his motives, was not popular. “And I think, with all of this taken into account, you have spoken insolently once too often. You are relieved of the lieutenancy. Gray will take over your duties from now on.”
“Finished, Roper?” spluttered Asger, purple with rage.
“Why, yes,” said Roper, “I believe you are.” Pryce and Tekoa snorted with laughter and several of the legates applauded gleefully. Asger stood, filled with boiling energy, glanced down at Pryce who was still staring at him steadily, and stormed from the circle.
“As I said,” Roper continued, “we will diminish the Sutherners before fighting them.”
“How?” Skallagrim spoke again.
“An attack,” said Roper. “But one aimed at their supplies, rather than their warriors. We launch a diversionary raid, and when they swarm to rebuff us, our cavalry rip the baggage train apart.”
“You are fighting a huge army, lord,” said Skallagrim. “If the diversionary force is caught, it will not be in a location of our choosing. We would be surrounded and totally destroyed.”
“That is why they must not be caught. But nor shall it be. There is no way this bloated force can move through our country as fast as we can.”
There was a sceptical silence.
“I think it a rather obvious deception,” said another legate. His name was Sturla Karson and he led Ramnea’s Own Legion. “And one with an extremely high chance of disaster. Our force is already drastically outnumbered. To split it in half seems to be inviting disaster.” There was a murmur of agreement.
Roper inclined his head in the legate’s direction. “It is a valid objection, Legate. But consider the Suthern mindset. They have been raised at their mother’s knee on stories of our barbarous and brutal race. They have seen our lands: mountainous, untamed and, to their eyes, ghastly. To them, we are vast unholy warriors with impenetrable armour concealed beneath our skin and terrible weapons of destruction. They are here because they have been whipped into a fervour of terror and righteousness; but with such savagery, comes recklessness. Their psyche will be their own undoing. When they see our soldiers, they will not think as hard as they usually do about why we are there. They will not approach the battle as calmly and rationally as they are able. To overcome their own fear, they will respond with utmost force to any attack of ours.
“Yes, they have won an early battle. I tell you now, they are not thinking how easy this invasion will be and how overrated our warriors were all along. A single encounter is not enough to overcome a lifetime’s education. They still fear us. They will still rush to the attack like a dog whose puppies are under threat. They will be thinking about us, and not their baggage train.”
The warriors around the fire still looked sceptical, but Roper knew he was right.
“I understand these people,” he said again. “And the worst that can happen is they do not take our bait, we outstrip them on the retreat, and we can try again. But that won’t happen. Is not a surprise attack at dawn a powerful weapon in its own right? Why, when panicking that your sentries have been overwhelmed, would you do anything other than respond directly to the threat at hand?”
The silence was broken by Gray. “It is a strong plan,” he declared generously. Tekoa grunted his agreement through gritted teeth. There was a pregnant silence. Roper could tell someone was about to try and quash the idea.
Then, much to Roper’s surprise, Pryce spoke. “I back my lord,” he said firmly. That swung it for him. Nobody would argue against the triumvirate of Pryce, Gray and Tekoa.
“So what do you command, lord?” asked a hesitant Skallagrim. Roper told them. And the next day, they marched north.
7Out of the Mist
Bellamus struggled to rouse himself in the mornings. He liked to play a game with his manservants, challenging them to conclusively wake him by any means besides a pail of water. One, by the name of Rowan, had proved particularly adept at this game and surprised Bellamus that morning by introducing a pony from the baggage train into the sleeping chamber of his tent and sprinkling oats on his master’s chest. Bellamus had awoken from one of the startling dreams that haunted his sleep in the north, to find the beast gently sucking on his woollen blankets.
“It’s always a surprise with you, Rowan,” Bellamus said sternly to the straight-faced manservant on his way out of the tent. “I preferred the bacon method; you have permission to repeat it.” The last time Rowan had woken him had been by luring him from his chamber with a plate of smoked bacon.
Bellamus ducked through the canvas flap and out into
